Oh, we are so back. The third season of HBO’s Euphoria, the no-holds-barred (now not so) teen drama, has finally returned, a long five fictional years since the curtains closed on the second one. We last saw the cohort of high schoolers reeling in existential crises after the breakdown of Lexi’s (Maude Apatow) ill-fated, too-close-to-home play. It has no doubt taken this long for the cast and crew to catch their breath, recover and pull themselves together. Well, maybe.

We rejoin Rue – the show’s lead character and narrator, played by Zendaya – still in flight-risk mode. She’s an outlaw in Chihuahua, Mexico, on the run from federal agents for smuggling drugs across the US-Mexico border. Which tracks. Ali (Colman Domingo), her long-suffering sponsor, later poses the question: “You wanna undo all the evil you’ve done? Start by changing yourself.” And your clothes?

In the first episode, Rue is sober by a thread and still in her Chucks. She’s also in a colourful patchwork shacket layered over a camp-collar shirt, with an army green duffle bag, desperately trying to get her borrowed car – and life – out of a ditch.

Her wardrobe shows little development since her opioid-induced high-school days. “Like many addicts, Rue is stagnant and stunted, so her style hasn’t changed that much,” says the costume designer Natasha Newman-Thomas. That said, viewers might notice the addition of a five-finger-discounted suit jacket, a bit of camo and a handful of Hawaiian shirts.

A quick recap, since it’s been a minute. Set in the imaginary small town of East Highland, California, Euphoria explores a convoluted world of dysfunctional relationships, addiction and mental illness, gender and sexual identities and deep-rooted family trauma.

Seasons one and two were drenched in neon-tinged nostalgia, which seeped into the wardrobing. Rue sported a rotation of tomboy-ish tie-dyed graphic tees, her deceased father’s burgundy hoodie, jorts and high-top Converse sneakers. The resident drug dealer Fezco (the late Angus Cloud) wore 1990s Coogi sweaters and streetwear staples. Nate (Jacob Elordi) was seen in a classic bomber jacket, grey sweats and football jerseys. The same pieces on repeat, reflecting an inability to break free of cyclical bad habits. Half a decade later, have the kids moved on or moved up in the world? Only time and their clothing choices will tell.

For Euphoria’s (speculative) final act, its creator Sam Levinson is on a quest to take us on a journey into a neo-wild west. He’s mined the visuals of classic John Wayne epics (eagle-eyed viewers will remember the mural of him outside The Hideaway roadhouse) and Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns. He’s also changed the aspect ratio to feel richer and more cinematic, billing this the “God and Country” season.

“There was something about that old-school-Hollywood style that we felt could inform this season’s core themes of dreams, success and survival,” Levinson has said. “I also wanted our visuals to make the viewer feel like anything was possible and to make use of California’s diverse and iconic landscapes.”

A plethora of highly charged American tropes, iconography and symbolism is pertinent here: a flag of stars and stripes draped around a red-lipsticked, “Orange County” blonde Cassie (Sydney Sweeney). A decadent, pink-rose-lined wedding ceremony. Golf carts whizzing around an LA film set. Endless desert plains, police car chases and Greyhound bus routes. Foreboding rattlesnakes. Rainy nights spent at greasy diners. There’s even the introduction of a Hollywood exec, played by none other than Sharon Stone.

All of which rubs up against pastoral homesteads and many overt nods to finding faith, the Bible, answering to God. The inextricable tension between good and evil. This is Americana-maxxing at its peak.

The folks on the hunt for Rue are bigger, badder and better dressed than ever before. Forget tatted-up Mouse in his murdered-out black fits and sociopathic Laurie in her dowdy Walmart mom-core. A host of new villains enter the fray, led by kingpin Alamo (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje), the pinstripe-suited, cowboy-hat-wearing, scorpion-tip-booted gunslinger and owner of The Silver Slipper strip club, with more than a nod to Hugh Hefner’s loungewear. “That’s the beauty of this country that we call America,” he chuckles menacingly. “Anyone can reinvent themselves.”

Also of note is the stoic Bishop (Darrell Britt-Gibson), one of Alamo’s henchmen, who is seen in stylish striped shirts, braces, a trench coat and a bolo tie, buttoned up and ready to do business.

For the rest of the cast, there’s a sense of maturity in their wardrobes now. Nate is seen on a building site in relaxed workwear: plaid button-downs, straight-leg jeans and box-fresh white tanks. Only, check the tag – it’s all Bottega Veneta (perhaps a nod to Elordi’s real-life role as brand ambassador). The McLaren Artura he steps out of projects wealth, too.

Elsewhere, Jules (Hunter Schafer) has shed her signature Sailor Moon garb in favour of inky hued, dom-femme glamour, courtesy of Balenciaga and Kiko Kostadinov. Maddy (Alexa Demie) looks every bit the scheming Scorsese leading lady in furs, sheer silk shirts and oversized sunglasses. And Cassie doubles down on her pretty in pastel-pink, Stepford Wife-meets-pin-up appeal.

Will the kids ever be alright? Who knows. But a few things are certain: they are all grown up and making even more questionable decisions in their attempts to achieve the American Dream. The show continues to tap into our deepest fears, darkest fantasies and most desperate urges. Let’s dress this up like it is: an all-American story.