There’s a particular kind of photo that floods your feed around mid-July. A girl, sun-kissed and lithe, standing barefoot on the teak deck of a boat somewhere off the coast of St. Tropez. She’s wearing a pastel Pucci or a zigzag Missoni, holding a white Hermès Kelly like it’s a baguette, and captioning it with a single sparkle emoji. She looks gorgeous. Of course she does. But she looks exactly like everyone else.

This is St. Tropez Syndrome. A style affliction where everyone has money, everyone has taste, and no one has any original ideas.

What used to feel like aspirational voyeurism now feels like a very chic group project. You can predict the entire outfit formula before the slide loads: a gauzy patterned mini, slicked-back bun, gold hoops, Oran sandals, and either a vintage Cartier watch or something that whispers “quiet luxury” louder than it should. Throw in an oversized pair of Celine sunglasses and a strategically arranged plate of peaches, and you’ve got the summer aesthetic down to a science.

But when did dressing well become so predictable?

St. Tropez, once the playground of Bardot-era undone glamour, has become more of a seasonal runway for the same five outfits recycled on different yachts. The individuality is gone. Everything feels optimized for Instagram, filtered through a moodboard that was already overdone in 2022. It’s less la dolce vita, more “what’s still in stock at Matches?”

It’s not that any of the pieces themselves are wrong; a white Kelly is forever, and no one’s questioning Hermès. But the styling, the sameness, the sense that everyone is dressing for the same imagined audience… that’s where it loses its magic. Luxury isn’t about fitting in. It’s about the offbeat choices, the things that don’t make sense until you wear them.

There’s nothing wrong with loving a uniform, but the current Euro summer aesthetic feels less like a point of view and more like a dress code. And when the goal is to look expensive, not interesting, we lose what makes fashion fun: the friction, the personality, the unexpected.

So if you’re heading to St. Tropez, by all means, pack the Missoni. But maybe mix it with something that doesn’t match. Throw in a sandal that isn’t Oran. Wear the bag no one recognizes. Be the one they screenshot — not the one they scroll past.

Here's how I would do St. Tropez instead:

• A silk scarf (bonus points if it's vintage), perfect for around your bag or in your hair while you are driving with the top down.

• Keep the Birkin vibe, just ditch Hermes and go à la Jane with it, and use a wicker basket bag.

• Chunky gold earrings from a flea market in Nice, and a single spritz of Eau d’Italie (but if you are in a tight bind, you can start your trip with these).

• A navy men’s button-down worn open over a swimsuit at Club 55, paired with tortoiseshell glasses and undone hair.

• Vintage silk dresses