By Evie Magazine | Created at 2026-06-08 21:01:06 | Updated at 2026-06-09 10:55:06
1 day ago
In June, Vogue magazine published a glossy feature on Owen Peters, a 19-year-old communications student from Shakopoe, Minnesota who dresses in a blend of preppy and glamorous styles inspired by everyone from Jackie O to fraternity brothers. The article, written by Biz Sherbert and photographed by Ashley Markle, was part of Vogue's American Style initiative and positioned Peters as an emerging voice in fashion. It chronicled his journey from a kid who wore graphic tees to someone who thrifts vintage pieces and wears oversized basketball shorts as skirts. The piece was earnest, intimate, and thoroughly documented his creative process.
Within hours of publication, social media users began asking a simple question: why is Vogue writing about someone with roughly 500 Instagram followers as if he were a notable figure in fashion? More specifically, users questioned whether a magazine once synonymous with aspirational glamour had lost its way entirely.
"Isn't Vogue supposed to be the highest peaks of glamour and fame, the pinnacle of fashion?" wrote @lizukuchuii on Instagram. "This is a regular photoshoot of a regular content creator?"
Another commenter, @braecarnes, struck a more sympathetic tone while still puzzled. "Love him he seems amazing. But genuine question—he doesn't seem to have any accolades or even a following really. How did he make it into Vogue? People work their entire lives in fashion and never make it into Vogue."
The skepticism only intensified from there. On X, @raqisright posted that "relatability was the worst thing that ever happened to Vogue. The point of a high fashion magazine is to be aspirational, not realistic. It's supposed to be a magazine filled with the most beautiful people you've ever seen." Another user, @gnarshread, was more blunt: "Vogue is supposed to be the height of fashion. Not some school kid."
Who Is Owen Peters?
Owen Peters grew up in suburban Minnesota and had a pretty standard coming-of-age experience. He was into anime and musical theater as a kid, wore graphic tees, eventually got self-conscious about standing out, and found solace in fashion during the pandemic when everyone was on Zoom. He discovered TikTok and alt fashion aesthetics, developed his own style over time, and is now a college student majoring in communications who works at a movie theater and thrifts most of his clothes.
According to the article, his current look draws from an eclectic mix of influences. On the day Vogue visited, he wore oversized basketball shorts with diamond earrings and a Polo shirt paired with a rhinestone necklace. His hair was cherry cola red, inspired by Addison Rae. He's had styling disagreements with his university's student-run fashion magazine. He has a shopping anxiety that he manages by thrifting. He considers his friends a style-conscious crew united by self-expression.
What made the backlash resonate beyond just one article was what it represented about Vogue's shift in positioning. For decades, Vogue positioned itself as a magazine about access to unattainable glamour. You didn't read it to see people like yourself; you read it to see people you wanted to be, wearing things you'd never afford, photographed in ways that made ordinary life seem impossible and distant.
However, the feature was part of Biz Sherbert's "American Style x Vogue" series, which aims to showcase emerging fashion voices and everyday style from across the country. It's a beautiful concept, but the backlash appears to have erupted because the photography itself doesn't meet Vogue's traditional editorial standards. The images, shot by Ashley Markle, have been described as "iPhone snapshots" rather than the meticulously lit, high-gloss photography Vogue readers have come to expect. The criticism wasn't really about Owen Peters himself, who, by all accounts, seems like a thoughtful, creative young man, but about the execution of the imagery.
