Sometimes we listen to music when we get dressed; but what if we got dressed like the music we listen to? .

Songwriters are notorious fashion obsessives. Legend has it that King Henry VIII composed the traditional folk song “Greensleeves” after seeing the royal courtier and 16th-century style icon Sir William Carey wearing a spiffy slashed doublet over an emerald-green undershirt. More recently, in 1956, Mr Elvis Presley was so concerned that someone might step on his blue suede shoes that he recorded a hit single about it. Only a few years after that, Mr Johnny Cash pinned his colours – or lack thereof – to the mast with his political anthem-slash-style manifesto, “Man in Black”.

Now, while not everything we’ve just told you is strictly true, the fact remains that music and fashion have long shared a deep bond, each providing the other with a reliable source of inspiration. Here, we take a look back at a few times that songwriters went all “Vogue” on us – and muse on the clothes that inspired them.

Name-dropping used to be so… mainstream. Remember when it was all Cristal this and Gucci bandanna that? Fast-forward to 2015, and it’s not uncommon to hear rappers dropping verses that sound as if they’re reeling off the catwalk schedule for Tokyo Fashion Week. You can thank A$AP Rocky, and his break-out hit “Peso”, for that. The Harlem rapper might have name-checked more designer names in total on “Fashion Killa” – 27, to be exact – but it was with this line that he first showed his eye for style. Sneakers from both designers featured in the music video, naturally.

The strange thing about Biggie’s music is how steeped in nostalgia it was, even from day one. Lyrics starting “Way back…” or “Remember back in the day…” didn’t sound like the thoughts of a man who never made it past 24. But then, this was the 1990s rap scene: he may well have considered that a ripe old age. You don’t call your debut album Ready To Die for nothing. Here’s a typically wistful line from the big man’s first single, “Juicy”, in which he throws it back to the old school, when he used to eat sardines for dinner. Best worn with a down vest, baggy jeans and Timberlands.

In this feel-good pop hit, Mr Leonard Cohen uses the titular raincoat as a metaphor for a man’s life falling apart. Or something like that, anyway. It’s unlikely that even Mr Cohen knew exactly what he was trying to say; in a 1993 interview with Details magazine he admitted that he “never thought that the carpentry was finished” and that the song was too ambiguous. What can we say? The best songs often are. Before the song’s mysterious addressee fell from grace, we like to think that his famous blue raincoat looked a little like this.

Here’s an old classic from everybody’s favourite Staten Island hip-hop collective. Raekwon’s opening verse in C.R.E.A.M. – that’s Cash Rules Everything Around Me, kids – was a highlight in an album full of highlights, and also happened to include one of the more esoteric name-drops in hip-hop history. ’Lo goose, if you haven’t guessed already, is street slang for a Polo Ralph Lauren goose-down vest. Which would never scan – far too many syllables. In the absence of authentic RL, we’re sure that he would have settled for Canada Goose. Or C-Goose.

This alt-rock quartet from East Kilbride were notorious for their riotous live performances, bad attitude and utterly obstructive interview technique (there’s a wonderful clip from 1986 of front man Mr Jim Reid winding up a Belgian TV presenter and Joy Division fanatic on YouTube: “Joy Division were particularly awful… I don’t even like us being mentioned in the same sentence as Joy Division”). Standard rock’n’roll behaviour, then. And they dressed the part: this lyric from “The Living End” alludes to their love of leather jackets and boots. Very authentic.

Let’s not get bogged down in meaning, as nobody really knows what Captain Beefheart, aka Mr Don Van Vliet, was on about at the best of times. Of all the adjectives to have been applied to his chaotic, caterwauling music over the years, “accessible” is not one of them. If we can assume anything from these lyrics, it’s that he saw a tweed coat, and he rather liked it. Surely, that’s something we can all get on board with?

Mr Kanye West could fill a list like this all on his own, such is his dedication to the craft: the crown prince of the designer name-check can barely go eight bars without mentioning his latest fashion obsession. What’s notable about this particular lyric, though, is just how obscure that Maison Margiela reference would have been at the time of this song’s release, in 2011. Along with A$AP Rocky, Mr West was responsible for sounding the death knell for bling. All of a sudden, it was less about how many diamonds you had in your grill and more about how many front-row seats you had at fashion week.

She’ll rightly be remembered for her remarkable voice, but it’s easy to forget that the late Ms Amy Winehouse was a talented songwriter, too. And while her musical style was shamelessly retro, borrowing wholesale from 1960s Motown, the stories she told – tales of heartbreak, addiction and depression, articulated in a streetwise 21st-century tongue – were entirely of their time. “You Know I’m No Good” was a case in point: musically, it could have been written half a century ago. But lyrics that mention chips ’n’ pitta, Stella Artois and skull T-shirts leave the listener in no doubt that this is Camden Town, circa 2007.

Country crooner and NASCAR enthusiast Mr Marty Robbins claimed to have penned this million-seller in 20 minutes – which sounds like a brag until you realise that most of the lyrics are actually in the title. It manages to be an incredibly evocative tune nonetheless: you can just picture yourself heading to the high school dance on a balmy evening in 1950s small-town America. The only thing that’s missing is one of those nice ruffled tuxedo shirts. Oh look at us, getting all misty-eyed.