Inclusivity or Exclusivity? The Consequences of Labelling Fashion as ‘Queer’

Inclusivity or Exclusivity? The Consequences of Labelling Fashion as ‘Queer’

They say don’t judge a book by its cover, but that is precisely what is beginning to happen within the fashion world. On average, one person in the UK will spend £1093 on clothes in one year, emphasising the significance of fashion. Over the years, ‘style’ has become not only a way to dress, but also a way to express identities and align ourselves with a particular group. Many major brands are expanding their range to become more inclusive, such as Zara with their women’s waistcoats and Goose and Gander as a mainstream gender-neutral brand. While it can be empowering to have a trope of identities presented in fashion, downfalls are beginning to emerge from this effort, which may reinforce stereotypes in the media and wider society.

We have come a long way since the 1950s when the stereotypically encouraged way a woman could dress was to wear pencil skirts and tight sweaters. The fashion industry and people’s views regarding women and how they can dress have progressed. We now don’t only have a ‘one size fits all’ approach, but a long list of identities of what it means to dress like a woman.

This achievement was made possible by collaborating with a diverse group of influencers, showcasing a variety of fashion styles on the red carpet, and, perhaps most importantly, by the rise of new companies that cater to specific identities. Famous fashion brands have also expanded their range by promoting different styles. Having waistcoats and dresses under the women’s label on their website, at first sight, shows that any of these clothes can match a woman’s identity.

Despite attempts at inclusivity, misconceptions about gender and clothing persist in the fashion industry due to traditional and patriarchal gender roles. For example, a recent article published by Vice had its headline ‘How to dress to show that you’re queer (without just slapping on a rainbow)’. The article provides dressing instructions, including wearing jorts, dad shirts, and a loud-patterned suit. Having this as a step-to-guide to be identified as queer is concerning. While it may be an attempt to promote visibility, it simultaneously promotes stereotypes. The notion that lesbians should dress in a masculine manner reinforces gender stereotypes regarding sexuality and relationships. While it may promote same-sex relationships, it still relies on traditional relationship roles where one partner dresses in a masculine fashion and the other in a feminine fashion. It also suggests that within a same-sex relationship, there should be someone ‘wearing the pants’, someone who is more masculine than the other.

On the other hand, many celebrities are adopting the pantsuit style and showcasing it on the red carpet. For instance, openly straight actress Daisy Edgar Jones looked stunning in her fitted, flattering pantsuit attending a London Premiere. It’s wonderful to see a woman in a high-profile environment acknowledging this trend. Thanks to its growing popularity this look is now considered fashionable and up-todate, meaning people can now wear stereotypically ‘lesbian’ clothing without fear of criticism or reaction. Many will concur that having it publicly acknowledged in the fashion industry is consoling.

Whilst some have found it comforting that their ‘queer’ style has been acknowledged through celebrities and the press, it has arguably also had its downfalls. As previously mentioned, labelling this style as ‘queer’ can transcend from something celebratory to stereotyping. This creates societal expectations for queer individuals to conform to a specific look in order to fit in with their desired group. This suggests that a femme woman may feel compelled to change her own style into a more overtly ‘queer’ style to have her sexuality acknowledged. This shows that whilst fashion brands are celebrating queerness, they are unconsciously marginalising them into a subcategory instructing them to dress a particular way. Having queer fashion identified as something different from typical masculine and feminine styles is limiting as it compromises the authenticity of personal expression. It contradicts the message of fashion becoming a form of self-expression and is instead a form of group identity.

So what happens to those who do not want to dress in an overtly stereotypical style? Not following the ‘queer dress code’ could lead to them feeling excluded from their own community by not looking ‘gay’ enough. On the other hand, if they don’t conform to the traditional patriarchal dress code, they may feel rejected by their community for not being ‘straight’ enough. Having these instructions on how to be part of a “community”, such as implemented by Vice, leads to many feeling like they do not belong anywhere.

Due to certain pieces of clothing having ‘invisible’ labels on them, non-queer people may feel hesitant to buy a garment due to not wanting to appropriate the queer community. Therefore, while it limits LGBTQ (LGBTIQA+) individuals, it also can restrict heterosexual people, perpetuating the myth that they must continue to dress in traditionally feminine ways, such as wearing tight clothing and the colour pink, or in traditionally masculine ways, such as suits, polo shirts, and so on, to avoid being accused of mislabelling themselves or misleading others.

Overall, fashion in queer culture has become a multifaceted tool for expressing identity. Clothing should continue to accentuate a person’s confidence and convey their personal style. As fashion develops, we must ensure that fashion becomes a way for everyone in their chosen community to feel empowered to express their own unique identities authentically.

By Kate Hayhurst