Are Butt Cheeks the New Cleavage Reveal?

Fashion has a funny way of circling back on itself, except it never really comes back the same. It returns louder, lower, sharper. In 2025, the conversation was clear: breasts were back. The red carpets said so. Vogue said so. Structured corsets, lifted silhouettes, intentional heaving everywhere. It felt almost nostalgic, like fashion reclaiming an old symbol and polishing it for a new audience.

But then something shifted. Quietly at first. Then very deliberately.

As we move into 2026, the spotlight is drifting south. Not subtly. Not shyly. The body part once considered accidental exposure is now becoming intentional design. The crack is no longer a wardrobe malfunction; it’s the point.

The idea isn’t new. It’s just been waiting for the right moment to feel unapologetic again.

When Alexander McQueen introduced the bumster in his spring 1995 collection, it wasn’t about sex appeal in the conventional sense. It was provocation, a challenge to the polite boundaries of how bodies were allowed to exist in public. The bumster didn’t flatter everyone. That was the point.

Fast-forward to spring 2026, and the bumster isn’t back as rebellion; it’s back as confidence. In Seán McGirr’s McQueen collection, the exposure felt styled, deliberate, and almost sculptural. Alex Consani’s runway look made the message obvious: the backside can be framed, lifted, and emphasised the same way cleavage has been for decades. The visual language was familiar. The placement was not.

And once fashion reintroduces an idea on the runway, culture rarely takes long to run with it.

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Red carpets have constantly been testing grounds. If something survives there, it’s usually safe for broader consumption.

At the 2024 Met Gala, Kendall Jenner wore an archival Givenchy by McQueen that barely whispered its intention. A low-slung mesh panel across the hips. Just enough. A suggestion rather than a statement. It didn’t scream for attention, which somehow made it more noticeable.

By 2025, suggestion had turned into confidence.

At the Vanity Fair Oscars party, Zoë Kravitz stepped out in a Saint Laurent dress with a sheer, rhinestone-studded back panel. The reveal wasn’t playful. It wasn’t ironic. It was clean, calm, and owned. No apology in sight.

Then came the full throwback energy. At the GQ Man of the Year Awards, Hailey Bieber leaned into a noughties-coded whale tail moment, emerging from a sheer beaded dress. A reference that could’ve felt dated somehow landed as intentional. Not costume. Not parody. Just… fashion remembering something it once tried to forget.

Cleavage has always been about presentation, lift, separation, and framing. The butt-cheek reveal operates on a different emotional frequency. It’s less about enhancement and more about exposure. You can’t fake it as easily. You can’t hide behind structure.

There’s vulnerability in it. And control.

It also mirrors how fashion conversations are changing. Bodies are no longer being styled solely to attract the gaze; they’re being styled to assert ownership. Showing skin isn’t about shock anymore; it’s about authorship. Who decides what’s appropriate? Who decides what’s elegant? Who decides what’s “too much”?

The crack disrupts those questions in a way that cleavage no longer does. We’ve seen breasts. We’ve normalised them. The backside still makes people uncomfortable. Which is exactly why designers are interested.

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It’s not about everyone suddenly walking around half-undressed. Fashion rarely works that literally. It’s about what designers choose to emphasise, and what culture slowly learns to accept as normal.

Low-rise silhouettes are back. Sheer fabrics are everywhere. Archival references are being pulled without irony. All the ingredients are present. The difference now is intention. This isn’t accidental exposure. It’s designed. Styled. Owned.

So yes, 2026 may very well be the year where butt cheeks occupy the cultural space cleavage once dominated. Not as novelty. Not as shock. But as another way, the body tells its story.

And like every shift before it, we’ll pretend to be surprised. Then we’ll adjust. Then it’ll feel inevitable.

Fashion doesn’t just change what we wear. It changes what we’re comfortable seeing and being seen as. The rise of the butt-cheek reveal isn’t about scandal or provocation for its own sake. It’s about power, placement, and who controls the narrative of exposure.

Cleavage had its reign. The crack is knocking.

Whether we’re ready or not.