Le Corbusier, 'Quatre femmes autour d'une table'. Image courtesy @butchcamp [Instagram]
When Harry Styles appeared in Vogue’s December issue, he made history as the first solo man to grace the cover and in the process launched a thousand think pieces all thanks to a Gucci ballgown. Already known for his gender-fluid style, typified by an affinity for skirts, dresses and fetching blouses, the cover’s release suggested that genderless fashion had reached a new level of acceptance within the industry.
At first glance, this seems to ring true. Certainly, more and more young men have been following Styles’ lead at a grassroots level. The ascension of “Femboy” subculture serves as concrete evidence of this — young men dressing in androgynous skirts and dresses are blowing up on TikTok to the tune of over 650 million views. This kind of fluidity in fashion feels like a sure sign of progress after centuries of rigidly gendered fashion conventions, but what does it tell us when an individual like Styles becomes the poster boy for the gender-neutral fashion movement?
Image courtesy @voguemagazine [Instagram]
In plain terms, when genderless style becomes synonymous with a white, cis, privileged man it’s not necessarily the seismic shift we should be looking for. Particularly when the likes of Lil Uzi Vert and Young Thug had brought dresses and crop tops into the “menswear” arena several years prior. Moreover, the predominantly Gen Z demographic heeding Styles’ lead aren’t the first to have questioned gender norms — the queer community has a historically-binding track record of expressing more expansive approaches to gender, notably risking imprisonment to do so.
Sadly, to this day, members of the queer community remain overlooked and uncredited when mainstream discourse celebrates fluidity in fashion: particularly butch women and non-binary people. A more visible target for homophobia than their femme lesbian counterparts, they’re still denigrated by the fashion industry at large and receive next to zero representation in mainstream media. This filters into their style options, with most retailers treating them as something of an afterthought. Struggling to find mainstream styles many butch people are forced into making their own clothes or shopping secondhand.
Photo: Garfield Larmond. Image Courtesy Atlantic Records.
It just feels as if [wider society] thinks our masculinity is defined by men, so there’s no need to have a true representation of us
This is the case for Allison, a butch woman who admits that; “I’ve recently been designing my own pieces due to the lack of options of sizing and designs.” For her, the exclusion of butch women from fashion is the tipping point of a wider cultural erasure. “A truer, rawer, more realistic representation of masculine-presenting women is needed. It’s disheartening [to think of] how omitted our stories are”, she notes. “It just feels as if [wider society] thinks our masculinity is defined by men, so there’s no need to have a true representation of us”.
Her comments are echoed by Laura* (name has been changed) a masculine-presenting lesbian who relates some of her difficulties shopping in high street retailers as a gender-non-conforming person. “I tend to shop in the men’s section, it’s kind of easy to find things that fit for tops most of the time but difficult for bottoms because of [differing sizes of] waist and bum”. These logistical issues also don’t take into account the emotional stress and potential intimidation that can result from shopping in conventionally gendered stores as a queer person. As she concludes, if stores or fashion collections were to integrate fashion lines specifically for butch people; “it’d be much easier to shop and I’d feel more comfortable”.
[Left] Queen Latifah and Monie Love. [Centre] Kitty Tsui. [Right] Latrice Royale. Images courtesy @butchcamp [Instagram]
I feel like [efforts to integrate butch people] are a little disingenuous and are only being done because people are actively calling for better representation for various aspects of the queer community.
Even when gender-neutral fashion does make an effort to integrate butch people, it doesn’t necessarily do a good job according to fellow butch person Peri. “I think the media and fashion industry are certainly trying for some form of representation, but what they’re achieving is a much softer, more palatable version of ‘butch’”.
When the gesture to finally cater to overlooked groups comes from a place of shame or obligation, it isn’t always fit for purpose. “I feel like [efforts to integrate butch people] are a little disingenuous and are only being done because people are actively calling for better representation for various aspects of the queer community”, Peri adds. “By toning down the message, I think a lot of people still end up feeling excluded”.
This lacklustre engagement with butch people and a lack of diversity within this will prevent the gender-neutral fashion from reaching its true potential in the future— as Allison points out; “[fashion] makes space continually for white women and white androgynous women” while overlooking Black, Indigenous and POC people. Yet, when it comes to butch women and non-binary people, a lack of attention from mainstream fashion has tangible consequences in the present. As Peri poignantly puts it: “I haven’t been able to explore my butch style as much as I would like at this stage and that purely comes down to lack of options”.