Fashion, film and their enduring obsession with sport.

The loud and proud marketing tactics - and Chalamet’s bold demeanour – proved divisive almost immediately. However, these moves feel less jarring when they’re considered in the context of where cinema at large currently sits. It’s hard to get people to go see a movie at any point in the year, let alone over the festive period which is when Marty Supreme dropped (Christmas Day in the US, Boxing Day in the UK).

Unlike Chalamet’s previous releases, Marty Supreme is an indie film, directed by critical darling Josh Safdie and backed by arthouse production company A24. It doesn’t have the same hefty financial backing as the Dune franchise or last year’s Bob Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown. It was during this release that Chalamet first started honing his guerilla marketing tactics. Stunts included a headline-making turn hosting ESPN’s College Game Day and attending his own lookalike contest in an unassuming square in Manhattan. The effort paid off; A Complete Unknown was an undeniable critical and commercial success, grossing $140.5 million globally.

The old methods aren’t working anymore. What truly resonates with audiences is whatever cuts through the noise. Chalamet’s antics might have been brash, but they at least ensured that Marty was the name on everyone’s lips this winter. Marty Supreme is also a sports film. More specifically, a film about ping-pong. When the subject matter is light, it allows for more playful advertising techniques. Quinn Gawronski, Content Head at marketing platform Props, noted:

“Timmy has a quirky persona, and this campaign feels in line with his humour. Ping-pong isn’t the most serious topic, so that gives them more room to play. If it were a movie about World War II? Not so much.”

Where has this sense of “play” been most visually obvious? The fashion. Designed by Miyako Bellizzi, Marty Supreme’s costuming is a historically accurate feast for the eyes. Marty Supreme the character dresses for who he strives to become. When he’s not in his ping-pong uniform, his everyday looks lean on sharp tailoring offset with voluminous pleated trousers, pinstripes and knit sweater vests. In short, it’s mid-century menswear swagger.

Speaking of Becks. The Marty Supreme moment is not the first time that the worlds of film, fashion and sport have collided to create a cultural sensation that continues to reverberate years after the fact. Bend It Like Beckham was one such phenomenon. It arrived during something of a golden age in British culture. Pre-financial crash, when the collective mood skewed more optimistic – the film captured a specific moment in time. Ostensibly, the film is about football (the clue is in the name). But much like Marty Supreme would do years later, it understands sport as a collective experience, one that brings community together, with fashion acting as a visual shorthand for the culture surrounding it.

This moment also occurred at a time when the lines between luxury and streetwear began to blur, thanks in no small part to society’s worshipping of football, its players, and their partners. It was the era of the WAG, and their unashamedly opulent aesthetic set the tone. This was when the Burberry check was at its peak. It was a time when the pattern served to break down the distinctions between what different classes wore. The movement was short-lived, and Burberry soon after all but abandoned their beloved check for the guts of a decade for fear of it associating them with the wrong crowd. Classism or strategic marketing? That's for you to decide.

If the tennis court is the backdrop, fashion provides the context. Costumes were designed by Jonathan Anderson of Loewe (and more recently Dior), a friend and collaborator of Guadagnino. Drawing from the banality of workout clothes and the everyday ensembles of the ultra-wealthy, the film engages two of the most enduring trends of recent memory: normcore and quiet luxury. The visual signifier that unites the two? An unassuming printed T-shirt.

Both Zendaya and O’Connor wear it at pivotal moments in the film. It’s a cotton T-shirt emblazoned with the line “I Told Ya,” a riff on a tee famously worn by John F. Kennedy Jr. in the ‘90s. Anderson explains the inspiration: