Luxury Has No Business At The Brownlow Medals

Every September, the Brownlow Medal rolls out the red carpet for a night billed as Australia’s answer to the Oscars. AFL players comb their mullets and swap their guernseys for tuxedos (and in the case of Bailey Smith, don a pair of questionable sunnies), inviting their good-looking spouses to what many consider to be the biggest night of they year.

The Brownlow, of course, will never be the pinnacle of global fashion. It is not the Oscars. It is not the ESPYs. And frankly, luxury has no business being there.

It’s not like in America, where its athletes live in a culture built for spectacle. The NBA, NFL and, of course, Hollywood all thrive on showmanship; their image is as much a part of the product as the sport itself.

A rookie can step onto the ESPYs carpet wearing Rolex or Cartier and look perfectly at home because they have been trained for this moment since college. Their trajectory in the sporting world is defined by the player’s brand off the court as much as their careers on it.

Australian Rules football, by contrast, grew out of suburban paddocks. It’s a culture that’s been shaped by pie stands and beer-soaked terraces at the MCG. The athletes are not bred as celebrities. They are bred as footballers.

So, when a lot of these guys step onto the Brownlow carpet, it is often the first time they have worn a tuxedo. And it shows. Oversized lapels. Too-shiny shoes. Borrowed Rolexes. Suits that look closer to Year 12 formals than genuine fashion statements.

Now this isn’t to say it’s a failure on the part of the players, it’s simply the nature of the event. For me, it should still be unapologetically Australian. A celebration of the sport and the culture that surrounds it, not a global luxury showcase.

The AFL has an audience most labels would kill for. It’s mainstream, loyal and willing to follow what their heroes wear. This is one of the few events that captures the attention of a national audience, dominating headlines more than any NRL event could.

There’s an opportunity for the league and its players to support Australian designers and makers, walking the carpet in tailoring from Arthur Galan, Calibre and P. Johnson.

Partners could wear gowns from Dion Lee or Toni Maticevski. RM Williams boots could replace generic patent shoes. Local jewellers and watchmakers could stand beside the big internationals for once. Instead the event continues to chase the gloss of overseas glamour.

The organisers can continue pretending the Brownlow belongs in the same category as the Oscars, or it can use the platform to strengthen Australian fashion, its brands and designs.

Of course, part of the reason why these brands are popping up is due to Australian’s continued love affair with the glitz and glam that surrounds sport. Look at the resurgence of Australian Grand Prix attendance figures, and the litany of events that follow, and tell me I’m wrong.

But alongside the pageantry and fanfare of Australian sport, the Brownlow can send the message that it supports the industry’s that continue to support them. Giving that stage to local designers would carry more weight than placing a borrowed Rolex on a footballer’s wrist. Support Australian craft. Celebrate Australian culture. And leave the Hollywood glamour to those who live it.