Sapphic Style Is Going Mainstream

Getty Images, Perri Tomkiewicz

Lesbians, we are a simple people. Our fashion reflects our need for efficiency and comfort. Sweater vests, Dr. Martens, leather trench coats—these are simply tools for warmth and endurance. They’ve also become mainstream cool. Lately, it seems like the general public has caught on: Fashion should both look extremely sick and also feel good and powerful. Outfits that were once the domain of queer women have been popularized on red carpets and in street fashion. Seeing a straight-identifying woman wearing overalls, Tevas, and a bandana is somewhat disorienting, sure. But as a millennial who came of age in a deeply homophobic culture, seeing lesbian fashion mainstreamed feels validating, like we were right this whole time.

Look around and you’ll see an oversaturation of denim, loafers, leather blazers (and pants and vests), and JNCO jeans. Any given straight woman named Sarah feels the freedom to dress like Trinity from The Matrix now, an outfit once reserved for intense queer women. High fashion, too, has undergone a sapphic makeover over the past few years, partially thanks to a boost in queer visibility; Kristen Stewart’s Spencer press tour, clad with tweed jackets, wide-leg pants, and two-piece skirt suits, was basically an organized gay recruitment effort. Other celebrities have adapted, too: In November, Dakota Johnson wore an oversized suede jacket and baggy jeans, an outfit that felt crafted in a test tube by a lesbian scientist from the ’70s. Zendaya and Cate Blanchett have all but ensured that women’s suits are the hottest option for formalwear. The possibilities feel endless: What’s next, Halle Berry carrying a sword as an accessory? Linda Cardellini wearing a hooded cloak? (Manifesting this.)

Stephane Cardinale – Corbis

All this mainstream lesbian clothing has inspired me. I recently wore a suit to a wedding for the first time, and it was magical. Since coming out in 2015, I’ve struggled with overcoming my own internalized homophobia, but I’ve finally experienced enough growth to feel that wearing a suit in such a distinctly heteronormative space was elating rather than scary. I felt thrilled to appear more visibly queer than ever before, to turn a fear of standing out into a proud declaration of such.

I’ve finally experienced enough growth to feel that wearing a suit in such a distinctly heteronormative space was elating rather than scary.

While I feel joyful that lesbian fashion is so beloved today, part of me also feels resentful. Androgynous looks that lesbians were once shamed for, that were once visual identifiers among our own community, are now Urban Outfitters staples. Why should Sarah be celebrated for dressing like Trinity, whereas simply declaring that I liked Dr. Martens in high school drew comments from peers like, “Okay, dike!”

Still, feeling not just accepted but celebrated on a massive scale feels validating and empowering. For me, wearing a formal suit for the first time felt like I was embracing my truest self, one I’ve always been so afraid to fully step into. Not to be so “Dakota Johnson wore a suede jacket and baggy jeans, so I wore a suede jacket and baggy jeans,” but, yeah, I identify with that simp from Mean Girls. Seeing lesbian fashion elevated has emboldened me—whether out of pure joy or pure spite—to become the most lesbian lesbian who has ever lesbianed.

Getty/ Edward Berthelot

We can and we should free ourselves from clothing that makes us feel anything other than our purest selves.

There’s also a safety in knowing I won’t be called a dike for wearing something I’ve always wanted to wear but was rightfully fearful to do so. Unfortunately, queer people often have to learn to love ourselves after enduring a lifetime of messaging that tells us not to. So, ultimately, yeah, it feels good to be widely accepted, finally, after decades of feeling the opposite. It also feels comfortable.

My gender presentation has morphed over the years, as has my relationship to clothes. It brings me great joy to see women across the board choosing comfort and efficiency over dictatorial, gendered sartorial traditions. We can and we should free ourselves from clothing that makes us feel anything other than our purest selves.

My question is, Where do we go from here? If we’ve all—queer women, Urban Outfitters, Sarah—collectively agreed that wearing Crocs is simply the best choice for our aching feet, how far can queer women push this? I’ve realized how influential my community is, and now I’m ready to radicalize the gen pop. So I’m speaking this into existence: This summer, the hottest trend is wearing a baggy black T-shirt in the pool and Croakies (in case your sunglasses fall off). And this fall, the accessory you can’t leave the house without is a very small pocket wallet on a chain with just three sleeves for your license, credit card, and insurance card. If you need more room, just carry a toolbox!

Jill Gutowitz is the author of Girls Can Kiss Now, out now through Atria Books.

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Sapphic Style Is Going Mainstream
Source: Filipino Journal Articles