Truman Capote Had His Swans—Now Christopher John Rogers Has His Squirrels
As the designer prepares for his much-anticipated runway show at New York Fashion Week, we tap into the vibrant cult following that fuels his rainbow-colored world.
They’re hard to miss in their Crayola-colored ballgowns, gold lamé barn jackets, and neon suits printed in candy stripes.
“They” are the “squirrels” of Christopher John Rogers, the Brooklyn-based designer whose high-spirited clothes you’ll recognize on Gigi Hadid and Zendaya and from the 2024 J.Crew collaboration that inspires grown adults to dress up in sequins and satin. According to friends of the brand, Christopher has bestowed the term of endearment to all fans of his work.
The squirrel club is not exclusive. You can have a stacked collection of CJR or own just one standalone piece to gain admission. The one other requirement is an appreciation for the exuberant world Rogers is building. Just as Truman Capote’s Swans fed the writer’s creativity, the designer sees his squirrels as muses—living, breathing manifestations of the CJR girl. He keeps a digital archive of his “Squirrels” on Instagram, dating back to his brand’s burgeoning days in 2019—around the time when Michelle Obama commissioned a sparkly cyan suit from Rogers and helped catapult him from a name to know in the New York scene to one of the most coveted craftsmen in the industry.
Rogers (left) with two colorfully-clad squirrels.
Why the word ‘squirrels’? No one knows—even Rogers’s furry friends don’t know their etymology. “It’s always on Chris’s lips, and I’ve actually never asked him why ‘squirrels,’ but it just made sense, so we all just went with it,” Pam Nasr, a film director and close friend of Rogers, says over the phone. “It’s kooky, bright, positive. Even the way it sounds—the squirrels is coincidentally a close sub-in to the girls.” And for Drag Race fans, the term calls on the same wink-wink, nudge-nudge familiarity of RuPaul’s "squirrel friends."
Plus, as culture has shown, a community works most effectively when it has a name to organize under; Beyoncé has her Beyhive, Nicki Minaj has her Barbz, and Taylor Swift has her Swifties.
Keke Palmer in a crisp lime green suit made by Rogers.
CJR's squirrels are eager to gather as a group again for the showing of his Fall/Winter 2025 collection at New York Fashion Week—his return to NYFW after five years. Chloe King, a fashion veteran and friend of the brand, sees the “squirrel-verse” as a sacred space. “In the studio and after parties alongside former [fashion school] classmates, colleagues, or show seatmates—we find common ground as fans and dreamers. His collaborators and friends are warm, curious, and authentic—a rare combination of qualities in the industry and a direct reflection of who Chris is,” she says.
For King, the squirrels harken back to a bygone era when guests didn’t show up to a runway show to see or be seen—all that mattered was the glamour. “I imagine legends like Diana Vreeland and Andre Leon Talley would have loved [a CJR show],” she says.
King at NYFW in a blood orange and lemon cyber-dotted ball skirt.
But beyond NYC’s fashion bubble, the human squirrels are everywhere their animal namesakes roam. They’re in London and Seoul—worn by A-listers like Dua Lipa and Rihanna, and walking on the Venice Film Festival red carpet. Gallerist Alexis Johnson married in the middle of the Mexican jungle in a phenomenal sunshine yellow CJR gown with six tiers of ruffles—a custom-made dress for Johnson after she saw Zendaya wearing a similar one in a Bulgari ad. “The dress was an incredibly special and important factor in the day's joy. It wasn’t overly demure; it was big and bold and had no hesitations,” she says over the phone. Later, Johnson changed into a fun floral mini from Rogers’s 2021 collab with Target for her second-look reception dress.
Glorious occasionwear put Rogers on fashion people’s radar, but his everyday wear has made him beloved by the masses. Vintage dealer and the senior social editor at Old Navy Blythe Marks owns 10 mainline CJR pieces and a selection of dresses from his now-iconic Target collaboration. “I wear both equally and get just as many compliments on a $50 poplin dress I bought at Target as I do a $500 knit dress I scored on Net-a-Porter,” she says.
Johnson on her wedding day in her spectacular custom CJR gown.
Skiwear designer and loyal squirrel Abigail Tananbaum wears CJR close to daily. She commissioned a look from Rogers for her rehearsal dinner in 2017—the two had a spontaneous meet-cute on a Manhattan block back when Rogers was still cutting his teeth at Diane Von Furstenberg—and has bought a piece from every collection since.
"Shopping [CJR] is such good cost per wear because it's not like you buy a piece and wear it once for an event—it's going to be your go-to for when you're brainless, don't know what to wear, and want to feel good," Tananbaum says. "There's just something straightforward about wearing his clothes. It's not, 'Oh no, can I pull off that neon jacket?' It's: 'Oh, yeah—I wore that neon jacket every day last spring."
The obvious benefit is that his expressive clothing is like a quick-hit sugar rush, counteracting the malaise and monotony of quiet luxury through color and shape. "Slipping into a CJR dress makes me feel the same way I do when I wear Dries Van Noten: artful, energized, and open to the possibilities around me, including interactions with total strangers," says Marks. "It's a kind of social fuel, rather than the shield that black clothing can sometimes be."
But, crucially, what’s so successful about Rogers is his commitment to craft. He won the prestigious CFDA Emerging Designer Award in 2019 and took home the American Womenswear Designer of the Year Award in 2021. The proof is in every piece of his clothing. A highlighter yellow suit is tailored to perfection, and a rainbow-striped sweater dress is meticulously designed to hit the sweet spot of the shin.
Jalil Johnson, author of the Substack newsletter, Consider Yourself Cultured, in a confectionary pink CJR look.
Journalist, podcaster, and longtime CJR muse Marjon Carlos met Rogers on the dancefloor of NYC’s late, great dim sum disco, China Chalet, in 2017—“I remember us dancing to Rihanna, and then it just took off from there." Carlos has had a front-row seat to watch the designer flourish. “[Rogers] is relentlessly committed to his vision and has not swayed or tried to be anyone but himself,” she says. His perspective is singular and attracts shoppers refreshed by the fact you can sense a heartbeat in his clothes.
As a result, Rogers has created a community where personal style isn’t something to sow discourse; it just comes naturally, like breathing in air and putting one foot in front of the other. So much so that a true squirrel doesn’t mind matching a fellow CJR fan. “You're most likely not going to be wearing the same CJR thing as someone else in the room, but if you are, it's not upsetting—it's a happy coincidence. “It's like, 'Oh, yeah, we both get it,’” says Tananbaum.
Tananbaum in her custom pink Christopher John Rogers creation at her rehearsal dinner.
Nasr recalls showing up to a CJR and Vogue event in 2023 wearing the same exact beige corset as a close friend. “We were just so happy about it,” the director says. “I distinctly remember that I was going to text her beforehand and ask what she was wearing. I'm so glad I didn't because we both showed up in the same corset but styled it in our own separate ways. We were two peas in a CJR pod.”
And that’s the real magic of Christopher John Rogers: even when two style squirrels grab the same acorn, each one makes it uniquely their own.
