Lou Stoppard
There is little joy of sex in fashion right now. In fact, the industry seems almost scared of it. This season has been marked by trends that suggest restraint; of the 90 looks on show at Gucci, more than 50 featured headwraps, hats or headscarves, some fashioned like a nun’s headdress, others tied under the chin.
The Calvin Klein woman was ready for the apocalypse in knitted balaclavas and high-vis jackets. Prada also went for the dystopian sci-fi mood, showing nylon padded coats and neon workwear. Apart from a few raunchy outliers, such as Saint Laurent, Isabel Marant and Christopher Kane, things were rather reserved. Even Givenchy’s collection, which creative director Clare Waight Keller intended to be “seedy”, was free from overt sauce — the gowns, with their high necks and ankle-skimming lengths, were elegantly seductive rather than overtly provocative.
You can understand why designers, editors and photographers are being cautious. How does an industry that is all about making people look appealing respond to an environment in which women are increasingly speaking out against being objectified or sexualised?
One of the many buzzwords now heard around the subject of sexy clothing is “empowerment”. It’s become a keyword for designers and magazine editors, rephrasing the desire for alluring clothes to make a supposed feminist statement. Michael Halpern, a new designer who trades in sultry sequinned frocks, is very careful about using the word “sexy” to describe his style.
“It’s not that I don’t think women can look sexy in the clothing, but I don’t sit here pondering how to make sexy clothing,” he says. “I try to make clothing so that when someone puts it on, they feel powerful, which is very different.”
That said, he is nervous about the notion that anything revealing is inappropriate. “I think women’s fashion should be sex-positive. I think post #MeToo it can go in both directions; I choose to react with a celebration of powerful women.”
Christopher Kane isn’t inhibited at all by the current climate. His AW18 show was pointedly titled “More Joy” and featured original illustrations from the 1972 handbook The Joy of Sex, alongside fluffy boudoir marabous and zippered “bondage” dresses.
“I get timings wrong,” laughs Kane. “But there’s always a focus on sexual relations and human behaviour in my collections. I’ve done botanical [sex] before, using the tulip diagrams that were used to represent sex education at school. I’ve done a Cynthia Payne collection,” he says, referring to the British brothel owner. “This season was about how amazing love and sex is.”
His attitude flies in the face of more common responses, which have been to back away from provocative looks. Kane questions if this is progress: “I overheard editors saying they were killing certain shoots [because they were too provocative]. But I think that’s going back 100 years.” He understands that women have been objectified for too long, but doesn’t think we should censor everything racy. “No one should be taken advantage of, but sex is not a bad thing, either. Abuse is a bad thing. I want my shows to be about empowerment, and choice, and the freedom to have that choice. Women can be empowered wearing a short skirt or wearing a pair of trousers.”
Post #MeToo, clothes have become more politicised — just look at the red carpet awards-season blackout. When Jennifer Lawrence wore a plunging Versace dress for a freezing-cold photocall in February, social media commenters responded with criticism. Why was she so naked when her male co-stars were so covered up? The attention elicited a curt response from Lawrence. “This is sexist, this is ridiculous, this is not feminism,” she wrote on Facebook. “You think I’m going to cover that gorgeous dress up with a coat and a scarf? . . . I would have stood in the snow for that dress because I love fashion and that was my choice.”
Even the fashion magazines, which once would have run pictures of Lawrence alongside boisterous, suggestive captions, have become leery of insinuation. In February, the men’s monthly GQ magazine (for which I write a style column) launched a series of pieces dedicated to #MeToo.
“We timed it to coincide with Valentine’s Day,” says editor Dylan Jones. “We have commissioned more than a dozen extra long-form features on the topic and they’ll be running in the magazine and online in the coming months.”
Magazines have also reconsidered the kind of photography they are commissioning. “You’re always trying to reflect and anticipate the public mood,” Jones continues. “We started moving away from sexually charged shoots nearly a decade ago. It’s tricky, because you’re always trying to make people look their best, and often you’re complicit in the amplification of sexual attraction, but if you analyse the magazine — and I include the website and all our social feeds in that — we are probably more well versed in the amplification of men’s sexual appeal rather than women’s.”
It is an anxious moment in magazine offices. Last week, System, a twice-yearly glossy for fashion insiders, wrote to more than 50 young female fashion workers, from writers and photographers to stylists and models, asking them how fashion’s relationship with sex can move forward.
“Over the past few months, much has been circulating in the media . . . regarding sexual harassment allegations, the treatment of models and the questionable road towards making a fashion image. In light of this, we have been asking ourselves an uneasy, uncertain yet important question: what is the future for sexualised imagery and/or nudity in the world of fashion?” it asked. The responses will be published in a text-only feature.
Women’s magazines are also having to re-examine the way they depict women. In recent years, Love magazine, edited by the stylist Katie Grand, has built a vast global audience around its annual Advent Calendar, an online gallery of erotic videos starring models in various states of undress. Last Christmas, the calendar was rebranded with a new slogan of “strength” and the videos focused on models engaged in sporty endeavours — Taylor Hill was shown performing gymnastics in nude lace lingerie; Bella Hadid beat up a tyre while clad in a red bra and stockings from Agent Provocateur; a nearly-nude Emily Ratajkowski writhed around in spaghetti. “Stay strong,” the models would repeat at the end of each clip.
Cynics would suggest little had changed but the tagline. It seems doubtful a men’s title would have been able to produce something similar without an outcry. But when asked about the future of the project, Grand was shooting a campaign and unable to comment.
Penny Martin edits The Gentlewoman, a twice-yearly magazine that has sought to differentiate itself from the pool of fashion publishing through considered journalism and a more refined design. “When we launched in 2010, ‘sexy’ was a banned word in the commissioning process — there was so much of that on the newsstands, and our agenda was to provide an alternative,” she says. “So making the magazine has been an ongoing process of restoring some dignity to portraiture without jettisoning the warmth, fun and even sensuality that makes people want to read about smart, intelligent women. It’s a tricky balance and not simply a case of putting a woman behind the camera or in the styling room, though of course a balanced team helps.”
Fashion necessarily reflects society, and society is changing. But so is the freedom to express and provoke. “Context has a lot to do with the successful portraiture of both men and women,” says Jones of GQ. “Although I think we need to be careful how we respond to the way the pendulum is swinging. After all, one of the prerequisites of clothing is usually its ability to make whosoever is wearing it look more attractive.”
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