“Everybody hates a tourist,” sang Jarvis Cocker in Pulp’s Common People. “Especially one who thinks it’s all such a laugh.” Our disdain for tourists is one of the world’s great connectors; we tend to have a low tolerance for them and we certainly don’t want to be identified as such.
The fact that we are all tourists when we travel is beside the point. The stereotype goes that tourists are incongruous, and get in the way. They are noisy, badly behaved and rarely bother to learn even the rudimentary words of the local language. They are also terribly dressed. We all know the tourist uniform – garish shirts (possibly Hawaiian) oversized cargo shorts worn with sporty sandals and socks. There’s probably a backpack involved. The majority of these items are fine in isolation. Walton Goggins made the Aloha shirt desirable once again in 2025 after his loyal commitment to the style in The White Lotus season three, and Tevas have singlehandedly recontextualised sport sandals and made them ‘fashion’.
With judicious styling, socks and sandals are absolutely acceptable in style circles (although it’s still something I struggle with, personally). Even cargo shorts have been given a luxury glow-up via Loewe and Celine. It’s the combination of these styles that has come to represent everything that’s wrong with tourism. What we find embarrassing or uncool about this look specifically is that it stands out. It’s disruptive almost, which is of course at least part of the root issue with tourism generally.
As a Londoner, what irks me about some tourists is that they slow me down and seem to exist in a world of their own, where the daily routines of others aren’t considered. They will stand blithely in the middle of the pavement or in the entrance of a tube station looking at Google Maps on their phones – without thinking that anyone might need to get to work or pick up their child from nursery. I don’t expect anyone new to the city to know that they should stand to the left on the tube escalator or that they will have to queue for at least 30 minutes if they want to try one of the capital’s buzziest bakeries; these quirks of a place can only be discovered with time. Just as if you were going to a friend’s house for dinner, you’d treat the hosts and their home with respect and consideration. You’d probably try not to trash their home or cause a scene, and would likely avoid wearing a swimsuit at the dinner table. It is no different when travelling, and the stereotypical wardrobe of a tourist has become a visual embodiment of all that we hate.
Our collective dislike of tourists goes back a very long way – specifically to 51 AD, when philosopher Seneca the Younger wrote about tourists escaping Rome for the beach: “Why must I look at drunks staggering along the shore or noisy boating parties […] Who wants to listen to the squabbles of nocturnal serenaders?” There has always been a clash between those who want to escape their ordinary lives for a few weeks in a faraway locale, and those going about their ordinary lives in that respective locale. Another early example of overtourism took place in 19th-century Brighton, then known as Brighthelmstone, after an influx of affluent holidaymakers felt that the fishing nets left on the beach by local, working fisherman were an inconvenience and insisted they be moved. Town commissioners ordered the fishermen to move their nets to a different area away from the tourists, which resulted in riots. Ultimately, the fishermen lost their case.
After World War II, Thomas Cook introduced the idea of the package holiday and – along with the rise of holiday leave for the middle-classes – the massification of tourism arrived. Since then, our desire to see the world has created thorny issues. On one hand, it has created jobs and boosted local economies, and on the other, it has hollowed out the destinations we love. Rental increases caused by Airbnb has meant that it’s becoming increasingly hard for locals to live in popular travel destinations. Barcelona, New York and Florence are among cities to have either banned short-term rentals entirely or implemented restrictions. Last year, authorities in the Croatian island of Hvar were forced to introduce fines on anyone wearing swimwear in the town, or who appeared shirtless outside of the beach. It’s sad that this collective telling-off was required in the first place. The British have a particularly uneasy relationship with tourism. With our responsibilities temporarily suspended and in a different setting, we drink too much, get sunburnt immediately and behave badly. We’re famous for it. Most of us want to assimilate on holiday – we want to blend into the background so we can experience it in the most authentic way we can, but unfortunately our reputation now precedes us.
Back to the clothes. Dressing like a tourist is deeply uncool because it demands attention. Wearing an outfit that has no correlation to the destination we’ve chosen means we’ve rejected that culture, and there’s an arrogance in that. We’ve made it all about us, and the point of travel is to experience and appreciate that respective place. That’s not to say that we must only wear muted colours and insipid clothes on holiday; blending in looks different depending on where you’re travelling to. India calls for a bright colour palette, as does a trip to Jamaica. Paris requires neutrals and classics, and in Marrakech, you’ll need loose, floor-sweeping styles. If you don’t want your clothes to give you away, then learn something about the way the locals live. When you break it down to brass tacks, the way we dress is reflective of our culture, and immersing yourself in a new culture is one of the most gratifying things we can all do. It might even make you a better dresser.
Ella Alexander is Citizen Femme’s fashion features editor. She started her career at the Evening Standard, and has since held senior editorial roles at Vogue, The Independent and Harper’s Bazaar, where she remains a contributing editor. She also writes for The Telegraph, Sunday Times Style, Service95 and CNN. She is an author, having co-written Dame Zandra Rhodes’ memoir, Iconic: My Life In Fashion In 50 Objects, published by Transworld in July 2024. Her favourite travel destination is Catania, Sicily’s second city.
Lead image: Wiggy Kit
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