The Style of Sound: The Revival of Twee
With twee’s recent resurgence online, it’s time to look past the ballet flats and Peter Pan collars to appreciate this aesthetic’s original fashion inspirations and roots in rebellion.
From the stage to the runway, The Style of Sound is a series that explores the intricate relationships forged between your favorite artists and their iconic fashion statements.
Written by Julianna Riccioli
Photo courtesy of Richard Bellia
Twee is an aesthetic known for its sweet sincerity and idealistic intimacy. In its resurgence, it’s primarily regarded as a fashion movement filled with colorful tights, cardigans, and oversized collars. However, twee’s conception in the late 1970s reflected a culture marked by optimistic music and staunch opposition to early Thatcherism and commercialism. While modern twee unabashedly embraces its feminine and nostalgic roots, the origins of this aesthetic remain an undeniably feminist and anti-corporation response to mainstream society.
The twee movement has been loved and loathed since its origination in the UK. The term “twee” itself is a pejorative for the genre, one created by disgruntled music journalists who saw this indie subgenre as overly emotional and childish. At the time, many artists despised the name that shackled their genre. In a 2002 interview with Pennyblackmusic, the bassist of Talulah Gosh, one of the genre's pioneering bands, Rob Pursey, referred to the term “twee” as “sad,” admitting, “I hate that word … [it] is the pathetic, wilful feminization of men and women into children.” Over time, many artists within the movement have reclaimed its title but even so, the term originating from a childish mispronunciation of the word “sweet” highlights the infantilization of these musical artists by critics.
Musically, twee consists of catchy, emotionally earnest lyrics about love, everyday life, and friendship, accompanied by jangly guitars, boy-girl harmonies, and cheery drumming. Above all else, however, twee leaned into a DIY sound under independent record labels — such as the now defunct Bristol-based Sarah Records — that contrasted with the mainstream music scene of heavy instrumentation and polished recordings. In an interview with Clash in 2022, Amelia Fletcher, the leading member of two iconic twee groups in the height of its 20th-century popularity, Talulah Gosh and Heavenly, stated that she and her band “loved the ‘DIY’ sound because it felt egalitarian and accessible — like music that anyone could make.” One of the leading charms of this indie subgenre is its intentionally unrefined sound.
The fashion aesthetic followed a similar philosophy of simplicity. Fletcher stated that as artists, they were “skint, and so drawn to cheap sources of clothing, scouring charity shops and kids clothes departments for [their] style.” Twee artists dressed in clothing from thrift stores and usually resorted to a more youthful style. The clothing choices — anoraks, stripy t-shirts, and pinafore dresses — were “not designed to be childish,” Fletcher stated These style decisions diverted the mainstream expectation of musicians, particularly women, because “the music scene expected its bands — and especially any girls in them — to be sexy, angry or at least cool.” Reflecting the authenticity of their DIY sound, twee artists dressed in everyday wear that emphasized their youth instead of aging them up.
Photo courtesy of Colin Bell
Twee not only began as an aesthetic rebellion of the music scene but also as a societal protest in the UK’s increasingly tense political landscape. Margaret Thatcher became prime minister in 1978, and as she developed conservative social and economic policies, twee developed alongside the evolving punk movement in response to growing political unrest. Twee emerged from similar counterculture roots as punk but protested in a jarringly different fashion. Where punk embraced aggression and intensity, with an emphasis on dark clothing and heavy jewelry, twee focused more on softer introspection, and simplistic fashion with bright colors, hence the minor rivalry between the sensitive indie pop fans and the fearless punks.
That's not to say twee music never crossed over into punk and riot grrrl territory. Even as Fletcher and the rest of Talulah Gosh launched Heavenly in the ‘90s, because they wanted to be less “punk rock and more about just making nice songs,” as she told Pennyblackmusic, Heavenly’s Atta Girl EP is a brutal condemnation to victim blaming and sexual assault, edging into the same social commentaries as punk. Other twee bands released albums and songs that centered around political and social issues as well, like the Orchids’ anti-poll tax track “Defy the Law,” and Blueboy’s “Clearer,” which was written in response to the passing of the oppressive, homophobic Clause 28 law. Even as punk screamed and twee crooned, both agreed that music can’t be completely apolitical.
Yet, even as more bands developed in this subgenre and twee maintained its cult followers, Sarah Records closed after its 100th release in 1995. The original wave of twee musicians retreated or reformed as indie pop grew and became the opposite of its full-length name, independent pop — mainstream.
At the same time, while the peak of twee may have been in the ’90s, new bands like Belle and Sebastian and Camera Obscura emerged within the genre. Belle and Sebastian, in particular, gained success as their music found a home on the soundtracks of “Juno” and “(500) Days of Summer” in the 2000s. Zooey Deschanel, the leading actor in “(500) Days of Summer” and the TV show “New Girl” became an unofficial twee icon because of her quirky and cheery sensibilities that evoke the same energy as the original twee movement. The Zooey-era of twee was outfitted in new styles, as well: ‘50s-inspired dresses, Mary Jane flats, patterned skirts, and thick, black eyeglasses reminisced on the original youthfulness of twee from the ‘80s, but with new dramatics. These fashion choices highlighted the playfulness of twee, with the contemporary influences of the then-rising hipster culture of the 2010s. Similarly, the pastel-hued films of Wes Anderson epitomized the whimsy that twee encapsulated in its heyday. Characters in Anderson’s films, like “Moonrise Kingdom,” wear berets, bright colors, and oversized triangle collars that solidify them within the aesthetic, as do currently running shows, like Netflix’s “Emily in Paris,” in which the titular character wears bold patterns, colored tights, and the same joie de vivre that twee envelops.
Photo courtesy of “Emily in Paris” on Netflix
This revival of twee features the same DIY style of the music, through contemporary artists like Alvvyas, Belle and Sebastian, Frankie Cosmos, and Zooey Deschanel’s own band, She & Him. Cute, simplistic tracks fill modern twee playlists. Featuring similarly upbeat instrumentation and cheery, romance-based lyrics, the current wave of twee upholds the genre but updates it with increased production levels that somewhat rival its original, stripped-down radicalism. Where the movement once prided itself on its independent production and diversion from the mainstream, the twee revival bases itself in the commercialization of ever-changing trends as it resurges online.
Even as twee music continues to charm, it faces similar problems of a lack of diversity and body positivity within the movement. In a Vice interview with Mina Le, a fashion influencer, she said “The ‘problematic’ aspects of twee are really just problems of the fashion industry as a whole, in that it prioritizes the skinny, white figure.” The original twee movement, though supportive of LGBTQ+ rights, feminism, and social justice, faced a severe problem of inclusivity that mirrored much of the indie-pop genre. At the same time, however, as the modern music and fashion industry becomes more inclusive, so does twee. As Le stated, “We’re definitely moving towards more body positivity as a culture … I imagine this go-around will have people of all races, genders, and sizes embracing the aesthetic.”
Hopefully, in this revival, the fashion and the music can embrace the original twee movement of rebellion, while incorporating new styles and inclusivity into the movement. Like Fletcher stated in her interview with Clash, “If a new generation grows to love these old bands as much as I do, that would be great. But it would be even better if they drew inspiration from the original ethos of ‘twee,’ which was about so much more than simply finding the perfect plaid skirt.”