The Fabric of Feminism
There is a photo of me as child, and needless to say my mother clearly hadn’t picked my outfit that day. Head to toe sparkles; stripy pink and purple tights; a tutu that’s circumference was three times the size of even my abnormally large head. From this eccentric ensemble and through to my overflowing closet over fifteen years later, fashion has always been a quintessential part of growing up and coming into my own. But I’m not a wannabe-fairy anymore (well, sometimes I still I am). I am a grown woman. And as is well documented, there are a few things that make being a woman a bit difficult. Particularly the staggering acceptance of rape culture and continued over-sexualisation and mistreatment of women (particularly in the media). But nevertheless, we are not downtrodden and I am, like so many, still inspired. For decades women have been strapping on their boots, high heels, or even thongs, and fighting back.
But what is rape culture? Well, on a basic level it’s the societal acceptance of sexual objectification of women. But what does fashion have to do with this? Recently I was put in a position that, for the first time, forced me to understand what rape culture means for women like me. What strikes me is how much my ‘fashion’ is apparently a part of the problem. The idea that what I wear could somehow have a part to play in the way I’m treated disgusts me. I’m far from that superficial, and underneath the proactive, feminine and what some might argue as ‘inappropriate’ clothes I wear, is a human being. Now, I’m not blaming anyone for unknowingly putting the onus for these problems onto me — most are doing so out of concern for women’s safety — but after experiencing all this, I decided that if for now I am going to be defined by certain people by what I wear, then fuck it: I am going to take back my sense of fashion and make it my own.
Let me take you back to the late 1800s — the suffragettes are kicking ass, and women are starting to do a little better. Coming up to the turn of the century, the status quo is under threat due to new progressive politics, the introduction of divorce laws and the wave of the ‘New Woman’. Now enter the ‘Gibson Girls’. This image of women was initially created by illustrator Charles Dana Gibson, and to say the least, they were badass. They poked at men with pins, toyed with them under microscopes, and lorded over infatuated suitors, all the while boasting huge and glamourous hair, gigantic pompadours and chignons, crisp shirtwaists and impeccably corseted hips. Truth be told, this image quite clearly still presented an issue: that a woman had to be beautiful (and by beautiful, I mean meeting remarkably unrealistic expectations i.e. the 18-inch waist) in order to be powerful. Though in the end, the ‘Gibson Girls’ were one of the first representations of women with power, and people paid attention.
Then there were the pantaloons. Amelia Bloomer was the editor of the first feminist magazine, The Lily, and she is heralded as the first woman to ‘wear the pants’. She caused a riot of hysteria and panic over the instability of gender norms, and bloomers soon became a symbol for women’s rights.
Now on to the 1960s, and women are still using fashion as a sneaky, or blatantly apparent, form of rebellion against societal expectations. Mini-skirt mania is in full swing and the sight of women’s bare legs is throwing society into a frenzy. The invention of the mini-skirt rises alongside birth control prescriptions, an increase in divorce, and the Cosmopolitan new ‘single girl’ attitude. So conclusively, the mini-skirt came to represent a reclaiming of women’s sexuality. Deirdre Clemente is a historian of 20th-century American culture focusing on fashion and clothing, and she teaches something very important: ‘Clothes are not reactive, but proactive.’ Meaning that trends happen, and change follows.
I’ve always been a consumer of, or rather participant in, fashion, but I’m far from an expert. And so I wanted to see what students currently learning the trade were being taught. Claudia Sforzati and Caity Eve are two young designers who embody the definition of powerful women. Both are in their second year of study at The Whitehouse Institute of Design, Australia, and they are already kicking ass for women in fashion, and women in general. I wanted to talk to these women because I think it is designers like them who are at the forefront of making fashion feminist.
Both of them were quick to pronounce themselves as feminists, and I knew I’d struck gold. What was most fascinating about these women was the conviction and confidence with which they spoke about being young women and designers. I could hear in their passionate voices the same stubborn determination that I hear in myself. And I can’t help but think, women are fucking fierce. They speak with expert knowledge on the things the love, and it’s hard not to be in awe. ‘Personally I believe the greatest impact of myself being feminist on my designs would be that I see no limits.’ Without intending to I think Sforzati expertly sums up the condition that is being a feminist. It isn’t about greedy, man-hating, social-climbing, back-stabbing bitches. But rather, it means no limits for any one person, it means equality for all in spite of any gender labels. ‘It’s freeing to create anything to go onto the human body, and not being manipulated by who should be wearing it.’
They both acknowledge we have a long way to go before we see a world in which we are all equal and respected. Eve confesses that for her it’s not about the plight of women or crusading: ‘Where do I want the [feminist] fight to go? I want there to be no fight.’ It’s a beautiful sentiment, one I think anyone can relate to. The way Eve chooses to look at feminism and fashion is inspiring. I ask them both to consider why they do what they do. After all, so many of the issues facing women — like over-sexualisation and objectification — are so deeply ingrained into the fashion industry and it’s more than just empowering to hear Eve speak to how this sometimes flawed industry is really on our side.
‘There are those that are actively trying to keep women in tidy little boxes and those that break the boxes deliberately.’
Change must start somewhere and for us participating in this world of fashion and design it has already started. For Sforzati and Eve, the fashion they create is all about communicating how and what they feel, and by throwing their heart and passion into their work they rally against the constraints placed upon them. ‘Fashion for me is where I feel most intensely at peace — yet worried and nervous at the same time.’ Sforzati explains, ‘one of the biggest joys and what pushes and drives me is when a person wearing my work feels a particular emotion, intensely.’ And unsurprisingly, Eve agrees, ‘I never really thought feminism was something I knowingly injected into my work, but it is. Intrinsically it’s forced to. Because anything I feel intense about I pursue.’ After hearing from these two wonderful artists, I urge you to keep your eye out, and you will surely see tough, talented and intelligent women stepping out every day with their feminist fight worn on their sleeves.
It seems fashion has always been a secret weapon of sorts for feminist pioneers. Pioneers of any crusade really, but what makes fashion so effective in making a statement? I think it’s because it’s the silent statement. Like the unapologetic way Calvin Klein way back in the 90s stormed his runway with gender fluid models and designers. And similarly, the much more blantant expression coming out of Dior’s more recent campaign behind women. Creative director Grazia Chiuri — also the first female to hold the helm of the multi-million dollar label — boasted simple, but impeccable, plain white t-shirts labelled with pro-feminist rhetoric. Sitting here writing this, I hear myself repeating those lines to recall later.
‘We should all be feminists.’
‘Nevertheless she persisted.’
‘The future is female.’
‘Why are there no great female artists?’
I’d like to live long enough to see fashion as a weapon become accessible to all minorities. Seeing people own who they are and reflecting that expression in the image they present to the world is my idea of peaceful and accepting world — or at least it would be getting close.
