Half-way in the season, Euphoria has finally shown us who these people became. Not just what happened to them, but how they carry it in the way they dress, what they’re reaching for, and what they can’t let go of. Five years is enough time to reinvent yourself. Whether any of them actually did is another question.

New costume designer Natasha Newman-Thomas came in with one clear philosophy: dress the adult, not the character type. The result is a wardrobe that functions less like costume and more like a character witness. So let’s talk about what the clothes are actually saying.

Maddy

Maddy knew who she was from a very early age. A vintage baddie with a bit of capitalism on the side. She may not come from money and not make a lot at her fancy-looking PR job—but she knows what to wear and where to source it. Just look at her wardrobe, from her Balenciaga Rodeo work bag to her bespoke cutout wedding dress, and of course, what seems to be her signature accessory—her armour—the fur coat. She’ll wear it to the pool to meet an old frenemy, she’ll wear it to a mega influencer party accompanying the same frenemy, and she’ll hopefully wear it while following a revenge plan with her. But we do know she doesn’t dress for the room, she dresses for herself and the room adjusts.

Which makes it interesting that the most put-together person in the room is also the one quietly directing someone else’s image from a basement apartment. It’s all about confidence, right? And of course, wearing the right archive pieces and knowing what heels to pair them with to make a modest salary look like generational wealth. And now she’s teaching Cassie how to do the same thing on camera. Because coaches don’t play—and this coach definitely has something else up her Ernest W. Baker brown faux fur coat sleeves.

Nate

Who else could show up to a small town courthouse with several stitches on his face, a re-attached toe, and a full Bottega Veneta fit? The only answer is Nate Jacobs. Five years later and the boy who terrorized East Highland has rebranded—and his wardrobe rebranded with him. Gone is whatever high school boys wear, replaced by an entire rotating Bottega wardrobe that men wear—at least this con-man does. The Matthieu Blazy Spring 2023 leather flannel—the one Kate Moss wore on the runway, the one that isn’t actually flannel at all but leather—the polo, the suede jacket, the denim jacket, the crossbody bag—a different piece every episode, same brand every time.

Which makes sense when you remember that Jacob Elordi is a confirmed Bottega ambassador in real life, meaning someone is definitely funding this wardrobe—and it’s not the character affording it. Good thing too, because Nate can barely pay his own debt—held up by a rare flower on a construction site, which, honestly, might just be karma. He called his toe a metaphor. We’re calling his entire wardrobe one.

Cassie

Cassie Howard went through more style changes than the 2020s—and just like the 2020s, none of them were really hers. Younger Cassie was the sweet girl next door who dressed like she’d never done anything wrong in her life, which, debatable. Then Nate happened, and so did the 4am shifts of steal-your-bestie’s-style-and-man. The complete and total identity dissolution in the name of getting a boy to look at her. We all thought it. Maddy said it first. She doesn’t have taste.

The thing about copying someone else’s style is that it only works if you actually know who you are underneath it. Cassie doesn’t and her wardrobe has been proving it for three seasons. Season 3 should’ve been her redemption arc, style-wise at least. She got the man, the Wiederhoeft wedding gown, the Cartier jewelry, the Jimmy Choo heels, the $50,000 flowers—the whole Pinterest board came to life. Well, almost. Now Maddy is literally building her image for her—coaching her “niche internet star” era look by look, outfit by outfit. Which means Cassie Howard has gone from copying Maddy’s style to having Maddy style her directly. Character development, or just cutting out the middleman?

Lexi

If Cassie is the sister who never knew who she was, Lexi is the one who always did—she just never needed anyone’s approval. While everyone around her was performing adulthood, Lexi quietly moved to Hollywood, got a job on an actual TV set, and kept dressing like herself. Which, for the record, you can’t find any of it online.

Vintage Nik Nik button downs, Zio Luigi geometric prints, plaid flare pants you couldn’t Google if you tried, Mondo Mondo earrings that look like someone’s cool aunt died and the family donated the boxes to the nearest Value Village. Nothing matching, everything working. The girl who spent her adolescence observing everyone else now knows exactly how to thrift. One Howard sister has taste. The other has Maddy.

Rue

Rue Bennett may be a snitch, she may switch teams a few times, but she will always be loyal to her Converse. Those shoes have been with her longer than most people in her life—through the running and hiding, the relapsing, the DEA interrogation, the chaotic wedding she showed up to in a Bouguessa blazer that cost more than anything she’s ever admitted to owning. The Converse were there. The Converse are always there.

Her wardrobe looks like chaos but it isn’t—a Saint Michael patchwork jacket that’s secretly a remake of Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing safari jacket, a Bode polo, vintage Stussy camo. Cult labels worn by someone who grabbed whatever survived the floor of wherever she’s been sleeping. The only thing missing this season is her dad’s maroon hoodie—the one she took from his bed after he died, the one she wore for two straight seasons like a second skin. It’s not there. Maybe she’s finally letting something go. Maybe that’s the most fashion-forward thing she’s done yet.

Jules

She used to look “all Sailor Moon.” Now she’s straight off the Balenciaga runway, arriving to a plastic surgeon’s penthouse in a bra bustier dress constructed entirely from layered bras stitched into a gown, carrying a bag shaped like a shoe. A shoe bag. If that doesn’t tell you everything about where Jules is at this season, nothing will.

Here’s the thing about Jules—when we met her, she dressed to validate her femininity for men, then spent season 2 deliberately undoing that. She was actively dressing away from the male gaze and it was the most interesting she’d ever looked. And now she’s back to square one. The vintage Thierry Mugler, the Balenciaga everything, the D’heygere cigarette canister earrings—it’s stunning. It’s just harder to tell whose eye she’s dressing for anymore. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it isn’t. Either way, the clothes have never been more expensive and Jules has never felt further from herself—which, for a character built entirely around figuring out who she is, says more than any outfit could.

Newman-Thomas came in to dress the adults. Some of them got the memo. Others are still figuring it out—one Bottega piece, one fur coat, one shoe bag at a time.

Euphoria airs Sundays at 9pm ET on HBO and streams on Max.

Feature Image photograph by Patrick Wymore/HBO.