Pete Davidson, now 24, was one of the youngest Saturday Night Live cast members of all time when he started in 2015. He’s also one of the most style-conscious. This week alone, Davidson wore an Alexander Wang T-shirt and those Balenciagas, the ones that look like socks, while at a birthday dinner with his new fiancé Ariana Grande. Later he went out wearing a face-concealing surgical mask. It’s best described as E.R. chic—less Clooney, more BAPE x Mount Sinai.

While he had always had sneakerhead tendencies before, this all seems like a tightening, a kind of three turns to the right on the streetwear lever. The explanation for it could be that thing you do in relationships where you mesh with your partner’s look. Like he had moved on from being a reflection of Cazzie David’s city-born loungewear to Grande’s miniature streetwear kitten. Who can say for sure!

But Davidson didn’t need the arrival of a pop star in his life to get his style noticed. Some corners of the men’s fashion Internet, the ones that track the new Yeezy release in the wild, took note of Davidson years ago. One of the first publications to profile him was Complex. The comic appears every so often on r/streetwear, where an orange Supreme hoodie worn on a “Weekend Update” segment inspired threads last August. In the last year, he’s worn $400 Acne sweatshirts and vintage Champion crewnecks on the show, and when he’s out from behind the Weekend Update desk (his niche on the show is playing oddball guest to Colin Jost and Michael Che’s straight men), audiences can catch his shoes: Nike Air Yeezy 2 Red October, Back to the Future Air Mags, and throwback G Unit sneakers from 2003 (all covered in a more recent Complex video). He wore a $1,350 Gucci sweater for a mere promo in February! He’s not retail illiterate.

In a March S.N.L. segment featuring Tan France from Queer Eye, Davidson described his style as “guido trash.” What France was trying to do was take his streetwear bent and get him smaller sizes and streamlined colors. He was trying to clean him up. He was trying to de-scum the scumbro. But he seemed to ignore that Davidson is closer than not to the epicenter of men’s fashion right now. Besides his hats, which can inch dangerously close to trucker, his style isn’t guido. It’s not even classic stand-up. No bedraggled flannel looks pulled together sloppily so as not to overshadow one’s act for Pete. It’s something else. It’s scumbro-lite.

What’s a scumbro? Let’s say it’s a catchall for the R.E.I.-clad trustafarian co-ed meets Supreme. It’s pizza for breakfast and caviar pizza for dinner. Scumbro is the version of streetwear that wears irony like it’s a dewy hint of highlighter on the cheekbone—like normcore did, but much less precious. The scumbro wears Patagonia and Crocs but also the latest Adidas limited drop. He probably played soccer in high school, but left the team sophomore year because he was “busy,” and by busy he means skating. He grew up in sneakerhead culture, dabbled in athleisure, and maybe his parents sent him on Outward Bound after they found out he was selling his Ritalin. There in the woods, he discovered fleece. He used to shave every week and a half, but “can sometimes get away with every two weeks.” It’s the skate bro and the Deadhead bro from 2008 hugging each other so hard they went poof and emerged as one man a decade later on Howard Street sucking down a C.B.D. latte next to Jonah Hill.