Black Rats & Broken Hearts: Why the Sass & Bide Reboot is Australia’s Ultimate Vibe Check
Myer has announced the temporary closure of sass & bide for a total 'reinvention'. As Gen Z scours Depop for the original 'Indie Sleaze' relics, the corporate giant is betting everything on a resurrection. Can you really manufacture cool twice?
⚡ The Essentials
- The News: Myer is closing all standalone sass & bide boutiques and concessions by Jan 31, 2026, for a major brand overhaul.
- The Context: The 'Indie Sleaze' trend (messy hair, smudged liner, metallic leggings) is booming globally, making vintage sass & bide highly coveted by Gen Z.
- The Stakes: This isn't just a relaunch; it's a test of whether a corporate owner can recapture the chaotic 'it-girl' magic of the original founders.
If you were anywhere near a dancefloor, a sticky carpet, or a Westfield in Australia between 2004 and 2009, you remember The Rats.
Technically, they were called the "Black Rats"—a pair of rouched, low-rise, shiny leggings that cost a fortune and did absolutely zero favours for your circulation. But wearing them wasn’t about comfort. It was a membership card. It said you knew about Portobello Market, you probably owned a frantic amount of chunky silver jewellery, and you definitely knew who Heidi Middleton and Sarah-Jane Clarke were.
Fast forward to 2026, and the headline feels like a eulogy: sass & bide is closing its doors.
But hold your tears (and your eyeliner). Myer, the brand's owner since the founders departed a decade ago, insists this isn't a funeral—it’s a chrysalis phase. They are shuttering the physical stores to "reimagine" the label. Why? Because while the stores were struggling, the ghost of sass & bide has never been more alive.
The "Indie Sleaze" Prophecy
Fashion has a strict 20-year rule, and right on cue, the messy, hedonistic aesthetic of the mid-2000s is back. The TikTok generation calls it "Indie Sleaze". We just called it Saturday night.
While Myer’s sales floor struggled to shift new collections that often felt like watered-down imitations of the glory days, the original pieces have been trading like gold bullion on Depop and Vestiaire Collective. Gen Z doesn't want the polished corporate version; they want the grit. They want the embellished singlets and the fiercely low-cut denim that defined an era of Australian cool.
"The brand didn't die because people stopped caring. It ‘died’ because the cool kids moved to the vintage rack."
This "closure" is actually a desperate, brilliant attempt to catch up with the culture. Myer has realized that you can't sell 2026 sass & bide to a customer who idolizes 2006 sass & bide without hitting the reset button.
Can You Buy "Cool" Back?
Here is the million-dollar question (or rather, the $42 million question, if we look at the original acquisition price): Can a department store reverse-engineer a vibe?
The magic of the original duo was their authentic connection to the chaos. They were the girls in the photos. When they left in 2014, the soul of the brand packed its bags too. The challenge for the "new" sass & bide isn't design—there are plenty of talented designers—it's credibility.
To work, this reboot needs to be less "Boardroom Strategy" and more "Backstage Pass". It needs to stop apologizing for its excess and lean into the metallic, clashing, rock-star energy that made it famous. If the relaunch gives us beige knits and sensible workwear, it’s game over.
👀 Whatever happened to Heidi and Sarah-Jane?
The Verdict
The shuttering of sass & bide is the most "sass & bide" thing the brand has done in years. It’s dramatic. It’s risky. It’s a little bit chaotic.
We are watching a corporate giant attempt to perform a necromancy spell on a cultural icon. Will it rise as a zombie wearing a polyester blazer, or will it return as the phoenix of Australian fashion? We’ll find out later this year. Until then, keep your Black Rats safe—they’re vintage now.
