Mini skirts, Ralph Lauren V-Necks, Juicy Couture sweatpants; a noughties renaissance is upon us, and Emerald Fennell is more than a little bit responsible.

Clothing is an essential plot device in her dark comedy, Saltburn. Oliver Quick, arriving for fresher’s week in his lounge suit and Brasenose tie, does not belong—and everyone can tell. In the film, it becomes apparent that the less you dress up, the posher you are. Oliver’s obsession, the landed gentry heartthrob Felix Catton, is too cool to care. Even his designer clothing has a worn-in, distinctly Y2K feeling.

Speaking to Vogue, Fennell discussed her choice to move Saltburn closer to the present day, beginning in Autumn 2006 rather than the 1990s: “The reason that I chose that time period is that it’s not back in fashion yet but it’s not so old that it’s vintage,” Fennell says. “But it doesn’t look good anymore.” Or does it?

“It becomes apparent that the less you dress up, the posher you are”

Though many of Saltburn’s memorable scenes focus on dress codes—“We dress for dinner here,” says Felix as he welcomes Oliver to his family home—it is off-duty noughties fashion that perseveres. Walk along King’s Parade and see festival wristbands collide with slouchy leather bags, lacy throw-overs and exposed bra straps.

Oliver Quick, for one, struggles to conform. Though Oliver catches on to the unspoken rules of fashion, with Elspeth Catton remarking upon how much he looks “like a man”, Canale continues to give Oliver’s clothing a starchy newness. Oliver remains perennially uncomfortable in his clothes, and his station.

“Canale continues to give Oliver’s clothing a starchy newness and he remains perennially uncomfortable in his clothes and his station”

In an interview with GQ, Saltburn’s costume designer Sophie Canale discussed the unorthodox route she took to set the film in the recent past: “Facebook was a huge resource for me to be able to absorb this world,” says Canale. “And so many people were using Facebook at that time in a really unfiltered way. It was such a new thing to be sharing this with new friends and old friends and it was the start of everyone putting everything out there.” Some of the results are cringe-inducing, but always authentic: as Oliver peers through a window at the crowd of first years on the lawn, hair dye is plentiful and the colour clashes are stark.

At first, Canale had difficulty finding these pieces. She turned to friend’s wardrobes—as I did, when recreating these looks—and went “rummaging through people’s cupboards to find the clunky shoe boot, the little shrug, the thin scarf that needed to be wound multiple times around the neck and over 38 necklaces.”

Canale resorted to second-hand shopping on eBay and Depop to find the period pieces she needed. As Annabelle chats to Felix, books in hand, she wears an off-the-shoulder top from Topshop, in reference to Kate Moss’s collection with the brand from the same period.

Canale looked at editorials from the time, and took inspiration from the boho-chic styles of Sienna Miller and Chelsy Davy. Canale also sourced photo albums from friends who had been to Oxford and Cambridge during the 2000s, and noted the proliferation of spotty dress patterns and leopard print. She put bits of their wardrobe into Venetia’s. It was the era of crochet knit, sunglasses that were either extra large or extra small, statement necklaces and long, dangly earrings.

Just how far will the noughties revival go? Will we witness the return of Livestrong bracelets, extra-long tangled necklaces, sequin camisoles, “carpe diem” tattoos, dodgy fake tan, eyebrow piercings, skirts the size of belts and brightly coloured hairpieces?

Whether or not noughties fashion retains its popularity, there is one thing for certain—money can’t buy you Saltburn style.