I copied the top 5 fashion trends of rich moms — here’s what happened

I didn’t set out to study rich moms.

It started with a scroll. You know the kind—the kind that starts with “just checking Instagram” and ends 45 minutes later in a rabbit hole of neutral palettes, crisp collars, and oversized sunglasses.

But it wasn’t just the clothes. It was the energy. The quiet power of a woman sipping iced matcha in a linen set that probably costs more than my monthly grocery bill. The calm. The confidence. The I'm-booked-for-a-pilates-class-but-I-could-still-run-this-company vibe.

So I decided to experiment.

I picked five fashion trends I saw repeatedly on the rich-mom aesthetic crowd and wore them consistently for a month. Not to mimic someone else's life, but to observe how it made me feel—and how the world responded.

Here’s what I discovered.

1. Oversized everything changed how I moved

I’ll admit, I wasn’t sold at first.

Throwing on an oversized button-down with loose trousers felt like I was playing dress-up in someone else’s laundry. But a strange thing happened when I stopped reaching for tight jeans and fitted blouses: I moved slower.

Not sluggish-slow. More intentional.

I found myself walking with my shoulders back and my arms relaxed instead of clenched to my sides. I wasn’t fidgeting or pulling at seams. I was comfortable, yes—but it was more than that. The volume of the clothes gave me presence. And presence, I’ve realized, is a kind of quiet power.

2. Subtle makeup made my confidence louder

I used to treat makeup like armor. Foundation, contour, liner, lipstick—the whole production.

But rich-mom fashion doesn’t scream. It whispers. The makeup follows suit. A little concealer, brushed-up brows, and tinted balm. That’s it.

At first, I kept checking mirrors, thinking I looked “unfinished.” But by week two, something flipped. I stopped checking. I stopped caring. I even started appreciating the little imperfections—freckles, faint lines, the way my eyes crinkle when I smile.

As noted by the American Confidence Institute, “Confidence is the best outfit. Feeling comfortable in your own skin at any age makes you appear more attractive”.

Turns out, the less I covered up, the more I showed up.

3. Matching sets gave me mental clarity

I used to think matching sets were for toddlers or tech CEOs. But these women? They make a cream knit co-ord look like a life philosophy.

I bought one—ribbed, beige, soft as clouds. Wearing it felt like wrapping myself in a yes-I-do-have-my-life-together blanket. I wasn’t staring at my closet wondering what top goes with what pants. The decision was made. I was dressed.

It sounds trivial, but removing that one small decision cleared up space in my brain for other things—like writing, planning meals, or finally booking that dentist appointment.

There’s something to be said for simplicity that feels luxurious. Maybe that’s why so many successful women lean into it. It’s not about showing off. It’s about showing up with less friction.

4. Elevated loungewear shifted how others treated me

Let’s be honest: expensive-looking comfortwear isn’t really about lounging. It’s about broadcasting a message—“I’m relaxed, but I have standards.”

When I swapped my worn leggings and college hoodie for soft cashmere joggers and a structured zip-up, I noticed something weird: people were...politer.

Baristas double-checked my order. Strangers held doors. At the farmers’ market, one vendor offered me a taste of her homemade almond butter “just because you look like you’d appreciate it.”

I’m not saying clothes should change how people treat you—but they do. It’s psychology. We’re visual creatures. We assign meaning—status, competence, worth—before we even realize we’re doing it.

Wearing loungewear that looked polished seemed to command more respect. Without me saying a word.

5. Sunglasses and a soft smile created a new resting face

Here’s the thing about rich moms—they don’t look busy.

Even when they’re pushing two strollers and balancing a green juice, there’s this unbothered expression. Call it grace. Call it Botox. Either way, I wanted it.

I started by wearing sunglasses more often, not just for sun but for privacy. It gave me a bit of distance from the world, which made it easier to stay composed.

I also started practicing what Dr. Ava Shamban refers to as a “pleasant resting face.” According to her, “Your facial expression habits become etched over time. Practicing a pleasant resting face and frequent smiles can literally make permanent smile lines instead of frown lines”.

At first, it felt unnatural. I’d catch myself in reflective windows and wonder why I looked like a salesperson waiting to pitch skincare. But over time, the slight upward curve in my mouth became second nature. I started smiling at strangers more—sometimes just with my eyes.

And they smiled back.

What surprised me most

I thought copying these fashion trends would make me feel like an imposter. That I'd be pretending to be someone I'm not.

But instead, I felt...composed.

Not just because I looked put together—but because I was treating myself like someone who deserved care, comfort, and a bit of luxury. The daily act of choosing clothes that made me feel good reminded me of something I’d forgotten during years of quick coffee, tight budgets, and crammed to-do lists.

Style isn’t just about appearance. It’s about self-respect in motion.

And rich moms? Many of them live by habits that reinforce that idea in more ways than one.

As Thomas C. Corley found, “76% of millionaires exercised at least 30 minutes a day, four days a week”. So it’s not surprising that the fashion tied to that lifestyle reflects discipline, ease, and a touch of indulgence.

Final reflections

Will I keep the looks? Some, yes. Others—like the $400 cardigan I almost bought but came to my senses in time—I’ll admire from afar.

What I’m keeping for sure is the mindset. The way I now get dressed for myself rather than just to blend in or “look acceptable.”

Because at the end of the day, what I really copied wasn’t just the fashion.

It was the habit of showing up for my own life like it matters.

And that, I’ll wear forever.