Why the f*ck are you wearing that beanie?
Queer Performativities and it’s influences on fashion.
I can’t open my tumblr without seeing a variety of posts about what can only be described as “queer” fashion. Especially during winter time. Coincidentally, winter-time is when apparently all queer folx are at their pinnacle of fashion taste. Which I myself can’t really argue with since 90% of my fashion taste is geared towards the winter. The more clothes I have to work with, the better, plus the cozier I feel. Trust me, nothing feels better than to be swimming in a sweater that goes down to your thighs. Or having what probably feels like the world’s warmest beanie covering your ears when your hair won’t because you have a short haircut.
But that isn’t always the case. Stereotypical queer fashion is just that, a stereotype. First, we’ll look at the typical definition of queer fashion. Eventually, I’ll give my own definition of what I think queer fashion should look like.
All across the internet and infiltrating wardrobes everywhere there are the same sort of clothing that’s dictated as “queer.” For example, flannels (guilty), beanies (guilty), doc martens (fucking expensive but also, guilty), and a plethora of other ~queer~ fashion. However, there’s multiple subgroups of “queer” fashion.
There’s the classic grunge lesbian look:
Also, as I was googling “grunge lesbian” I found out a few things; 1. I guess grunge queerness might actually be a southern California thing and 2. Queer women are grossly over-sexualized.
And then there’s the punk queer look:
Okay, I admit, I adore queer pastel anything, because it looks so soft and cozy but at the same time, it looks like you’re a bad-ass and no one should look at you wrong without the risk of getting your eyeballs gouged out. It’s a great look, but it also has a connotation of inherent queerness. That’s an issue I have with most of ~queer fashion~ because it implies that there is a particular look to be ~queer~ but in reality, literally anyone could be queer, but maybe they don’t really vibe with that style, which then leads to so many young queer people who don’t feel like they can fit into the queer community due only to the fact that they don’t “look” the part. If you don’t look like any of these stereotypes, people jump back in shock at you being queer because, “You look so normal.” (This is actually a line that’s been used on me.)
Although, as I’m typing this I’m sitting in a Barnes & Noble, wearing a flannel and a beanie so I feel like I’m a physical embodiment of irony in this situation. But I do at least acknowledge I’m a gross stereotype embodying and supporting a stereotype of what queer people are ‘supposed’ to look like. But I’m also cold and this flannel is comfy. This doesn’t take into consideration a holistic approach to what we decide to be “queer” fashion. We stereotype other and assume one’s sexuality based entirely on what they look like. Sure, we make fun of it frequently as queer folx, but that also doesn’t take into consideration those who can’t afford the specific ‘look”, those who are too big for that look, those who simply don’t like that particular look for their own fashion tastes. Thankfully, most of my clothes I’ve “borrowed” or have gotten dirt cheap for the most part because otherwise I’d have a completely different look.
Fashion, as whole is generally rooted in classism, sizeism, racism, and appropriation. So your romanticized queer grunge look is rooted in a movement that directed at skinny white people. Although, it does dictate a certain anti-classist sentiment. Grunge as a music genre originated from Seattle in the mid 80’s and the demographics for that music genre were not for rich folx. But as time as gone by, it has been adopted by middle-upper class in more modern times to look “cool.”
There’s so much connected from what we wear to our gender identity and sexual identity — as said by Judith Butler, “What can be meant by ‘identity,’ then, and what grounds the presumption that identities are self-identical, persisting through time as the same, unified and internally coherent? More importantly, how do these assumptions inform the discourses on ‘gender identity’? It would be wrong to think that the discussion of ‘identity’ ought to proceed prior to a discussion of gender identity for the simple reason that ‘persons’ only become intelligible through becoming gendered in conformity with recognizable standards of gender intelligibility.”
Basically, what she’s saying here is, how do we define someone’s identity based on how they look without relying on stereotypes of what we perceive as gender?
There’s so much that can be said beyond what I’ve touched on— and I can continue to go on about what queer performativities have in tandem with ‘non-queer’ fashion as well as it’s connections with gender performances and how it relates to the queer body. In this article I relied heavily on women fashion, as I feel like most of the discourse around queer women’s fashion doesn’t take these intersections into consideration and queer women deserve better. I’d like to inevitably write a critique on queer male fashion as well.
Queer fashion, as it should be, is a fashion that goes against the capitalistic, white supremacist, hetero, imperialist patriarchy (#CWHIP) notion of fashion. And if that means a girl wants to wear a flannel and a beanie and feel damn cute while doing so, then I’ll support the hell out of it.
