How Hip-Hop created Luxury Ath-Leisure in the 1980s.
Whilst binging Stranger Things 2&3 earlier this week, a sci-fi series set in the 1980s, the careful product advertising caught my eye. Nike Cortez, Adidas Gazelle and Vans Sk8-Hi make several close-up appearances, and by the time the third season had dropped in the Summer of 2019, Nike had already released the first of their three limited edition, Stranger Things’ themed collections, one of which encouraged customers to burn the textile upper of the trainers to reveal secretly embossed messages which alluded to the series. Extra but kind of cool.
The collection was full of varsity clothing — baseball caps, sweatpants, crewnecks. The show’s costume designer, Kimberley Adams stresses that middle America, where the show is set, was not as fashion forward as the cities on the West Coast or East Coast because the effects of the early 1980s’ recession were still in force. Despite this, it’s clear that the major city fashions were still able to infiltrate even the most suburban of areas — athletic clothing or ath-leisure as it’s called today, was dominating in a major way.
This was the age of the middle-class mother’s love affair with Jazzercise classes and home workout videos, and they were wearing the slouchy sweatshirts, spandex leggings and leg warmers on the school-runs. With the legitimisation of casualwear during the 70s though to the 1980s, trainers had bridged the gap between a sportswear item and a fashion item, and every major sports brand that sold shoes were rallying for the public’s attention.
Converse had signed its endorsement deal with Magic Johnson in 1979, and Nike’s Air Jordans (inspired and endorsed by Michael Jordan himself with an epic deal of $500,000 annually in 1984) had become highly coveted. Adidas had maintained its status and desirability through the decade, but it was Run D.M.C that really catapulted the iconic shell-toe to the forefront of the mainstream hip-hop scene. When an Adidas executive saw Run DMC perform at the Madison Square Garden and watched in awe as a stadium full of teenagers from all kinds of background lifted their Adidas trainers to the group’s song ‘My Adidas’, he knew that the group’s endorsement could do a lot for the brand. A deal was drafted in days and a new shell-toe was released to the public in 1986.
The tracksuits and trainers’ style that rap groups like Run DMC were rocking was an emulation of a style that Black and Latino teenagers from The Bronx had been wearing for years. The B boys and B girls (as they were called) were making and listening to Hip-Hop, engaging in dance battles and just like the jazzercise moms across the country, wanted to look the part at all times. The hi-top fade and jheri curls was also a major part of the look B-boy look.
With the rise and successes of black Hip-Hop artists and sportsmen came the desire to dress in a way that would display their new status, naturally. The clothes got baggier and brighter (Kente was major), the chains got heavier and thicker. But still, luxury houses that rappers would tout in their songs were simply not interested in dressing them or being associated with them at all for fear of damaging brand image. People instead turned to Fashion mogul Dapper Dan, who, still inspired by his trip to Africa in the early 70s, set up his made-to-order haberdashery and boutique in a quest to ‘blackinize’ luxury fashion. He was knocking up his knock offs, recreating high fashion looks but better, more personable but still experimental, and had a broad clientele of anyone who could afford him (his custom-made suits could cost upwards of $10,000). He was making bulletproof Kevlar jackets for kingpins and gangsters, Gucci bomber jackets for LL Cool J and mink coats with the Louis Vuitton logo emblazoned on its puffed sleeves for Olympic Athletes like Diane Dixon.
Ironically, Dapper Dan’s designs have been knocked off for years, despite being shut down in 1992 by the authorities. The most recent and most publicised knock off came in 2017, when Gucci’s Alessandro Michele sent a model down the brand’s resort show in a jacket that was almost identical to one made by Dan for Diane Dixon in 1989. Eager to quell the claims of cultural appropriation, Gucci collaborated with Dapper Dan to have him the face of the Cruise 2018 tailoring campaign, create a Harlem look-book, and help him set up a new Harlem atelier which would be supplied wholly by Gucci.
Today, as we see the resurgence of street style meeting high fashion, we should be reminded of the 1980s. I’m glad I skipped out on the greasy looking hair texturiser but wish I could have been there for Grace Jones’ power shoulders and first round of Kangol bucket hats.
What are your favourite 80s looks?
