Feature
01 Jun 2026
Our current discussions on the place of art and aesthetics in theology and Christian living tends to stop at art forms like music, poetry or even dance. But it is also worth reflecting on the intersections of faith and fashion, even if for many of us, our fashion sense stops at an oversized Uniqlo Airism T-shirt. While it may seem nonsensical to contrast fleeting fads and microtrends with the timeless solemnity of theology, since fashion is such a large part of a larger cultural phenomenon, clothing is far from a neutral concern. We must be careful not to think too much about or pay too little attention to how we dress.
Talking about fashion was nothing new for the church fathers, and the main question that they tried to address through their writings was whether it was a vice or a virtue of creativity to express oneself through dress. Clement of Alexandria (ca. 150-215) was critical of it, warning against obsessing over one’s appearance. He cited Matthew 6.25 (“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?) as his basis for calling fashion a vice, as it is associated with vanity, pride and immodesty, and also distracts from one’s charity and piety. Tertullian (ca. 160-225) went even further with his anti-adornment rhetoric, in treatises such as On the Apparel of Women I & II, because he understood fashion as taking additions from the “adversary artificer,” that is, the devil, and adding to or altering God’s already perfect work. Such embellishments, like the dyeing of sheep’s wool blue or purple, or extracting pearls and precious stones to be woven into their jewellery or dresses, corrupted nature, and sought to elevate their own status, at the risk of diminishing God’s glory. Moreover, these diversities in fineries and customs (like veiling) divide the church rather than unite it, by mimicking social stratifications. For Tertullian, uniformity was the way to Christian unity.
Later theologians took a more positive look at fashion. Augustine (354-430) understood that fashion communicated identity through the cultural meanings that are encoded in various dressing conventions, and thus, a plurality of styles should be normative for Christians. As explained by Robert Covolo, in Fashion Theology, fashion was a “tainted cultural contingency to be obsolete with the arrival of the City of God, […] both a sign and a potential distraction to greater, eternal goods.” Clothing was an inescapable reminder of the shameful nudity of our forebears, but there was room also to recognise it as a creative expression shaped by culture.
While Augustine might have seemed a little reluctant to embrace fashion, Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), understood that fashion was part of aesthetics, and therefore part of the pursuit of beauty. Beauty, marked by symmetry, harmony and order, should therefore make social harmony its aim, or perhaps the idea of what we owe to each other, all else being equal. Fashion, which marks a person’s identity, is established both by the Church, and also prevailing, broader social customs, and one should dress in a manner that takes into account the company that one is with. Aquinas even noted that there are “instances where cosmetics are actually commendable, such as their use for ‘some ugliness arising from disease or the like.’” (Covolo, Fashion Theology)
This is not to say that fashion is entirely subjective. He writes in Well-Tempered Passion: “Beauty goes with every virtue, nevertheless it excels with temperance.” Beauty in fashion is thus achieved by correcting or tempering the vice of ostentation with the virtue of humility; the vice of an excessive focus on pampering the body with the virtues of simplicity and contentment.
Lastly, writing in a time where Europe was discovering the luxury of expensive silks, velvets, and laces, John Calvin (1509-1564) wrote in Institutes of the Christian Religion, to be neither overly strict nor overly indulgent while enjoying the good things of this life, since all of these are gifts from God, and should be used “to that end to which the Author himself created and destined them for us.” Calvin does caution that social responsibility prescribes an avoidance of luxury and an embracing of simplicity, regardless of one’s station in life, because hoarding personal wealth hindered one’s ability to meet the needs of the poor, thus making one guilty of breaking the commandment to not murder. But, clothing, just like food, is not merely practical, but the abundance of choice adds joy to our mundane existence. God too, is also clothed in the lavishness and visual grandeur of creation, which Calvin calls “God’s theatre.” Such a paradigm shift encourages and invites us to participate in the divine drama of the abundant life that celebrates the awe-fulness of creation.
What does Jerusalem have to do with Paris, Milan, and New York?
As we reflect on the historical development of theological thought on fashion, what sort of conclusions can we draw for our present age? Firstly, fashion cannot be divorced from its social, political, historical, and cultural contexts. Camouflage print and combat boots as an endorsement of military might and patriotism, hairstyles as democracy, hemlines as stock market indicators, slogan tees as performative and selective activism; these things did not come out of a vacuum, but reflect society’s values and norms.
As Miranda Priestly, editor-in-chief of a fashion magazine, puts it in the 2006 film The Devil Wears Prada, we are mistaken if we think that fashion is something we choose by ourselves, and not as a consequence of the choices and selections by a diverse group of people. The colours, the fabrics, the silhouettes that we put on our back – every choice we make has been selected for us by other people, and we are in no way exempt from the fashion industry and the global chains of production and the countless hands that make it possible for us to enjoy such a wide array of clothing options. This should encourage us to be mindful of where, what, how, and how much we consume. We should resist the narrative that our fulfilment and worth is tied to our consumption. We must fight the temptation to choose our own convenience (clothing so cheap and fast that it is practically disposable) at the expense of others. Relative to our station in life, perfectly ethical consumption is not possible under capitalism, but try we must, to do all the good we can.
Secondly, fashion (and the larger discourse on aesthetics) can help us to follow the via pulchritudinis, or the way of beauty, which can bring us into conversation with and hopeful redemption of secularised and atheistic cultures and persons. Beauty can present transcendent truth without succumbing to ideology, and “dispose the heart and spirit to meet Christ, who is the Beauty of Holiness Incarnate, […] to see through perceptible beauty to eternal Beauty, and with fervour discover Holy God, the author of all beauty.” (The Via Pulchritudinis, Way of Beauty, Vatican) This does not mean that every expression of beauty is free from distortion and ambiguity, since sin has marred all things. The Church then, should perhaps play the role of saving and guarding beauty, and to mediate interpretations of art so that God is still glorified. Perhaps the church should be the first place where symbols of capitalism (a business suit and tie) are not placed next to icons that depict the liberating, life-giving God of justice.
Artistic beauty can do with image, colour, sound and form what Scripture does with words; that “in showing how beautiful God is, the artist shows how much God is for man, as his own good and the ultimate truth of his existence.” (The Via Pulchritudinis, Way of Beauty, Vatican) The intersection of fashion and theology goes far beyond the question of virtue or vice in adorning oneself. The pursuit of beauty in all areas of life presents opportunities for dialogue and evangelisation, and the Church should reclaim and embrace its role in supporting and forming artists so that the beauty of the holy mystery may be expressed in the fullness of its splendour.
Kjelti Koh is a second year Master of Theology (Church History) student with the Global Institute of Theology at Yonsei University (South Korea). She previously served as a ministry staff in Singapore for five years. Her key research area is church-state relations, with other interests in architecture and cults.