Reggaeton style isn’t just streetwear anymore
Once upon a time, reggaeton dressed exactly how it sounded: gritty, sweaty, straight from el callejon. Baggy jeans, gorra pa’tras (Spanish slang for “cap backwards”), Nike TNs, oversized camisetas with more attitude than tailoring. The early looks? Undeniably raw. And that was the point. But in 2025, the genre’s fashion is serving something else entirely—“mas fuego, menos formula,” or “more fire, less formula.”
It’s giving “Yo perreo sola…” but I do it in custom Mugler now.
From club to couture
Now, the artists are stepping onto the stage in mesh tops, pearls, archival Margiela, platform Crocs (yes, seriously), and gender-bending silhouettes. Still loud. Still caliente. But now, it is “couture con calle” (high fashion with street style)—reggaeton with a front-row seat at fashion week.
Today’s biggest reggaetoneros are not dressing for the club anymore—they are dressing for the cover story. The style is unpredictable, gender-fluid, and intentionally curated. The new look? It’s giving “unbothered but ready” energy—lo que sea—as long as it turns heads.
Bad Bunny practically ripped up the rulebook and ate it. From backless blazers to latex skirts and custom Loewe, he is not “pushing boundaries”. He is walking past them like they were never there. One day it is head-to-toe leather, the next it is pareos (a wraparound), pearls, and painted nails.
Then there is Young Miko, who dresses like she just raided a 2002 Hot Topic and made it cool again. Think micro-minis, stacked belts, shredded tees, latex, and her signature cherry-red hair, which is like an accessory of its own.
Feid is still in his palabras neón era—signature sunglasses, techwear vests, and cargos you could zip into a tent. But lately, he has been playing with monochrome tailoring and designer motocross gear.
And Rauw Alejandro? The original, cyber loverboy is into metallics, motocross jackets, body-hugging tops, and enough mesh to call it second skin.
What connects them is not a uniform. It is the intencion. Every look is a statement: “I am not just here to perform. I am here to be seen.”
Quevedo may have burst into the spotlight with “Quedate,” but his fashion game has quietly evolved alongside the hits. Off-duty, he leans into skatewear and baggy silhouettes—mixing Nike SBs, oversized varsity jackets, and chunky jewelry like a Spanish cousin to early Tyler, the Creator. But on stage, he is slowly bringing in designer touches. Acne Studios, Prada, and the occasional sleek Balenciaga moment.
Cruz Cafune, on the other hand, is the Islas Canarias cool in human form—a mix of earthy neutrals, sportswear staples, and clean tailoring that looks like Off-White and Ader Error had a laid-back baby. He is one of the few artists making Salomon trail sneakers look like fashion week footwear by balancing function with flex.
Rels B, the Balearic heartthrob, has always understood the assignment: relaxed luxury. He flips between vintage band tees and silk shirts like it is nothing, often layering Jacquemus, Amiri, or even Loewe pieces into what feels like romantic streetwear. His whole vibe is coastal Casanova meets softboy trap.
And then there is Karol G, who does not just get dressed—she declares war. Her recent Met Gala look in archival Jean Paul Gaultier was not a one-off. Whether it is Mugler on tour or Diesel denim reworked into stagewear, Karol is mixing bad bitch energy with pure high fashion drama. Pink hair? Sure. Giant puffer coats with crystal mesh dresses? También.
These artists are not just wearing brands—they are reshaping how those brands are perceived in global culture. Suddenly, it is normal to pair GCDS with Crocs. Or wear Diesel to a beach party. Or rock Balmain with boxers peeking out.
Reggaeton fashion is not about status anymore. It is about energy. Chaos. Confianza. So who said that reggaeton was just about beats and booty? In 2025, it is a visual genre too—louder, freer, and dressed to make you look twice.
