Tyla is quickly becoming a master of the visual callback. But don’t expect her to admit it.
During her much-hyped Coachella 2025 performance, the 23-year-old South African pop phenom stepped onto the stage in a green balconette bra from Dolce & Gabbana’s Spring 2001 collection, paired with denim cutoffs beaded and frayed to oblivion. The look was immediate déjà vu for anyone who remembers pop culture before TikTok ruled the zeitgeist. The outfit bore an undeniable resemblance to Britney Spears’ unforgettable ensemble from the 2001 MTV VMAs—where Spears danced alongside a live python in a green cutout bra and low-slung shorts that defined a generation.
To Tyla’s credit, she wore it well. But when fans pointed out the visual mirror to Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” moment, the singer fired back on X (formerly Twitter): “Love her but I just thought the outfit was fly…no inspo.”
That denial was a choice. And not necessarily the most convincing one.
Pop stars invoking their icons is nothing new—it’s practically part of the rite of passage. From Dua Lipa echoing Madonna to Olivia Rodrigo dressing like Courtney Love‘s Gen X rebel cousin, today’s performers thrive on nostalgia, even when they try to distance themselves from it. Tyla is no exception. Last year at the MTV EMAs, she wore a vintage tiger-print Cavalli dress—a piece identical in cut to the one Aaliyah wore to the 2000 VMAs. At this point, it’s becoming a pattern. And it’s a pattern worth leaning into, not denying.
There’s nothing wrong with paying homage. In fact, pop history thrives on evolution and reinvention. When Tyla wears the past, she doesn’t just replicate it—she updates it. Her Coachella performance was raw, captivating, and stamped with her own charisma. But denying the resemblance to Britney’s iconic moment cheapens the potential for a more compelling narrative: a young global pop star stepping into her era by borrowing the silhouettes of the women who walked before her.
The irony is, Tyla doesn’t need to borrow credibility. She’s already solidified her status as one of this year’s most exciting artists, with a sleek catalogue of alt-R&B hits and a stage presence that simmers with confidence. But moments like this—when she channels the drama and sex appeal of early 2000s pop—suggest she could be doing something even bigger: rewriting what it means to be a 21st-century performer raised on legends but not beholden to them.
Maybe her stylist saw the reference. Maybe Tyla truly didn’t. But when the look is that spot-on, denying the influence feels more disingenuous than rebellious. Intentional or not, her nods to pop royalty are working. Why run from the obvious when you could own it?
Pop doesn’t just recycle—it remixes. And Tyla’s remix, whether she admits it or not, is undeniably fierce.
