It all began with a recommended reading on photography. When I reached the essay on August Sander, I was somewhat intrigued by Berger’s reflections on the relationship between clothing and the body and the social class to which one belongs—specifically, in the early 20th century. In his reflection, Berger mentions how an individual’s clothing corresponds to their experience, social upbringing, and role.
Drawing on a couple of Sander’s photographs—“Village Band, 1913” and “Young Farmers, 1914”—he notes how the bodies do not correspond to the clothing; according to Berger, clothing confirms, enhances, and preserves physical identity in accordance with social class.
And although this has changed slightly in the 21st century, no one escapes the dress codes dictated by their context, social background, and role, as Berger notes. Clothing serves several functions; one of them is to preserve the last vestige of our individuality—to express our personality through how we dress—even though we cannot always be ourselves in every situation. We live in a society where appearances serve as an individual’s calling card. One wears a suit to a job interview or an important meeting, athletic wear to the gym, or jeans for a casual get-together with friends.
We dress according to the setting and context of our daily activities. Within these dress codes, we add touches of our personality to each outfit—whether through variations in color or style—but without breaking dress code rules or pushing them to the limit; in other words, we are ourselves within the limits of what is allowed.
Class relations and the context that affects our freedom to be ourselves, to express ourselves, or to dress as we choose vary from person to person. For someone living in poverty, choices are nonexistent; their priorities are dictated by their basic needs. As we climb Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, our range of choices—or degree of freedom—expands, and this is influenced by other factors; for example, a lawyer must wear a suit to the office, and as their social and economic status rises, they must wear a more expensive suit.
These unwritten protocols have their origins in the history of fashion. Beginning in the Middle Ages, the first distinctions in dress codes emerged, initially to differentiate between genders: dresses accentuated the female form—breasts, waist, and hips—while men’s clothing emphasized masculine attributes—the penis. Second, to distinguish social class—an aristocrat from a commoner—and later, as the bourgeoisie began to compete directly with the ruling class, the ruling class reaffirmed its identity. As we moved down the social ladder, princes and feudal lords sought to imitate kings, the bourgeoisie competed to appear noble, and the rest of the population had no real choice.
This is how fashion and stereotypes began: on the one hand, the economically powerful classes demonstrate their status and power through their clothing, renouncing the past in search of the new, and reaffirming models of thought, philosophy, and art that span from the Renaissance to the present day. However, the question remains: why do we dress the way we do? Today, the answer is more complex; our consumption is driven by a variety of factors. Haute couture and designer clothing no longer set the trends; in fact, their market is quite small, which only confirms the great inequality in which we live. Major brands like Chanel, among others, serve no more than 3,000 customers worldwide; interestingly, these brands sustain themselves through perfumes, fashion shows, and licensing deals.
Fast fashion, ready-to-wear, and prêt-à-porter (mass-produced designer clothing) are, in reality, our options, along with a couple of other trends like sportswear; and even though these trends may change names, the truth is that our range of choices is dictated by a massive advertising machine serving industrialized manufacturing and capitalism. Yet the desire to emulate or imitate has not changed today. Today’s designers must be attuned to the market, stay abreast of the entertainment world, and observe what people in certain sectors are wearing.
Levi Strauss created jeans as we know them today; his target market was California’s working class, and later they came to represent a movement and a way of thinking—rock music and counterculture—for a small group of rebellious young people. But the system assimilates everything and turns it into a stereotype to boost sales; now jeans represent the pinnacle of globalization. The cotton may come from the Middle East or Africa, the manufacturing from China, and the brand from England.
It seems we have an infinite number of possibilities for combining our clothing with what’s available on the market and all the trends that have shaped fashion up to the present day; yet we find ourselves confined by “what should be” or “how to dress” due to factors beyond our control. I don’t intend to start a revolution against dress codes and social protocols; I simply believe that reflecting on how you dress and why makes you a little freer. For this reason, I choose to dress symbolically—not to pretend or imitate—to moderate my clothing consumption, and to use clothes for their entire useful life rather than just to be fashionable.
Bibliography:
Fashion: The Complete History, Marnie Fogg
Understanding Photography, John Berger
The Empire of the Ephemeral, Gilles Lipovetsky
The Double Life of Jeans, Andrew Brooks