20th Century Fashion in Star Trek

Hello friends! Wow, that’s some cute Star Trek cosplay you’re rocking today. What do you mean, it’s just your regular clothing? Sometimes it’s hard to separate fashion from fiction, as I discovered when I researched futuristic costume design for a talk at Nine Worlds in 2016. I’m there this weekend, giving a different talk (Dressing for Dystopia: what should you wear for the end of the world?) but I thought I’d share this (slightly edited and updated) section of my previous talk, as 50 years of Star Trek costume design has provided an interesting parallel to the way that 20th Century fashion has evolved. 

(text now copiously interspersed with my specially made and closet cosplays of Star Trek costumes!)

The original costume designer for Star Trek was William Theiss, and he was really the pioneer of the outrageous intergalactic outfit. Star Trek’s costumes have been derided and parodied over the years, but the costumes from the Original Series tell a really interesting story about fashion in the swinging sixties, and optimism in a decade of global upheaval and change. Star Trek is justifiably hailed as revolutionary: during the Cold War, Communist witch hunts and Segregation, the cast comprised people from different races and backgrounds, working together in harmony.

Thiess’s costumes tie in with the way Star Trek happily presented a radical idea as established and normal in the future world. Mary Quant and Pierre Cardin both claim the invention of the mini skirt in the late 50s, but even by the mid 60s, Uhura’s uniform mini-dress wasn’t just cool but could also still have been considered shocking in more conservative circles of society. Mini skirts were described as “frankly audacious, and worn only by the audacious”. In Star Trek’s utopian future, Uhura wears her uniform without attracting sexist comments from her co-workers, which is sadly still a ground breaking notion in some workplaces.  

Mini skirts are now so ubiquitous they have lost their shock value, and have become a sort of visual shorthand for a woman who is more invested in her looks than her brains. This is quite obvious in some modern rom-coms: Bridget Jones is objectified and patronised by her creepy boss when she turns up to work in a short skirt, and Elle Woods in Legally Blonde has to fight to have her intellect recognised because none of her colleagues can see past her feminine clothes. I’m glad Michael Kaplan, who designed the most recent Star Trek films, fought against these lazy stereotypes and kept Zoe Saldana’s Uhura in a mini dress for some scenes, but also gave her some more practical outfits, because sadly mini dresses aren’t ideal for everything. 

Back in the sixties, fashion became a major factor in breaking down visual class barriers: the same outfits worn by trendsetters like Jean Shrimpton and the Beatles could be worn by both young aristocrats and shop workers. Similarly the Star Trek costumes are more easily identified by the colour of the sweaters, which signify department, than the braid on the cuffs, which signifies rank. The quality of the costumes from the original series became something of a joke (most famously, the velour for the sweaters was chosen because it looked good under lights but it kept shrinking), but funnily enough that ties in with aspects of 60s clothing. Mary Quant tried making a ‘Wet Look’ PVC line, and the first garments were a disaster as no one had worked out the right machining techniques. Although Mary Quant had an official diffusion line at JC Penney, the 60s also saw the birth of what we now know as ‘fast fashion’. The explosion in the teenage market and the simplicity of the garments meant that plenty of high-fashion garments were copied very quickly for the high street from inferior fabrics or with inferior production methods. 

Theiss’s costume designs for the aliens on the planets visited by the Enterprise are a kaleidoscope of styles from many different time periods and from all over the world, often involving surprising fabric choices. This description could also apply to Vogue magazine in the 60s; Brian Duffy’s photo story entitled “six characters in search of 66” consists of the following characters: The Lady of Shalott, Sally Bowles, Ton up or Rocker girl, Russian Heroine, East gone West and Space Girl. 

(As a side-note, I could write another essay about cultural appropriation in Sci-Fi costumes and fashion design, but unfortunately there isn’t the space to do it here. In case you’re wondering what I mean by cultural appropriation, have a read of this blog post  by Laila Woozeer, who explains it very clearly). 

The glamour of cutting edge fashion didn’t always transfer seamlessly into sci fi costumes though - Reuben Torres’ collection for Harrods, designed for an age of “speed, fashion and leisure” was probably an inspiration for the costumes for Star Trek the Motion Picture, but the costumes weren’t well received and have been widely ridiculed. Possibly because the form-fitting beige jumpsuits made passing actors look like they were naked, and partly because people felt nostalgic for the colourful sweaters. 

The sort of fabrics that were fashionable at the time a show was being made often have a big effect on costume design, even if the show is set in the future: the synthetic fabrics that were often by-products of industrial experimentation during the Space Race in the 60s were the obvious choice for costumes for Star Trek. In a decade where future innovation drove design, traditional fabrics looked old-fashioned and drab. 

Theiss seemed to enjoy taking the popular fashions of the mid 60s to their extremes. Mary Quant wanted “relaxed clothes, suited to the actions of normal life”, and Pierre Cardin was designing for “the modern international man who travels and wants functional, lightweight and elegant clothes.”

Theiss saw that “Clothes since the mid century have become less and less bulky, less cumbersome, less protective- both physically and morally- and are headed faster and faster, apparently, for complete nudity.” We may not have reached this point in our everyday clothes, but looking at the trend for heavily embellished but completely sheer barely-there red carpet gowns, he may have had a point. 

Pierre Cardin’s “cosmos” collection from 1967, inspired by the first space walks (and possibly also by Star Trek?) promoted what was then known as ‘unisex’ fashion: a body fitting sweater, under a tunic or pinafore dress, with dark tights or straight cut trousers. These could be worn in different combinations regardless of gender. This style of clothing definitely had an influence on the costumes for Star Trek the Next Generation, again designed by William Thiess for the first series.

His uniform design consisted of a jumpsuit or tunic, with both intended to be gender neutral. The tunic was worn fairly frequently by Deanna Troi, by Captain Picard and Commander Riker as dress uniform with trousers underneath, and by extras of any gender with bare legs and boots. This was a bold design decision at the time, but Theiss’s reasoning for his design was sound. He said “Having the actors and actresses both in skirts was to diffuse any sexist accusations that might have been associated with the old show”.  Being the person responsible for the “Theiss titillation theory”: that the appeal of a costume was directly proportional to the possibility that it might fall off at any time, he was obviously aware of the casual sexism inherent in some of the more objectifying outfits. Reading interviews with him, though, I think he also just enjoyed the challenge of trying to sneak outrageous outfits past the censors, and letting his imagination run riot. Asked to describe his aesthetic in an interview, he said: “currently I really dig floor-length chiffon ponchos, tight knickers, crotch-high boots, pant legs that become bra straps and strong diagonals across the body.”

The pop culture perception of a 1980s workplace was one of power suits, big shoulder pads and corporate greed, so it’s really interesting that Star Trek TNG, which is essentially set in a workplace, albeit one that’s in space, rejected this imagery and drew more from another trend, the popularity of clothing associated with recreational sports and fitness being worn as fashion. Deanna Troi’s costumes were more reminiscent of a dance teacher or aerobics instructor than the traditional portrayal of a ‘counsellor’ on screen. Big hair and glitter abound in any non-uniform outfits, making scenes in Ten Forward, the ship’s bar, an interesting visual mix of 80s leisure wear and cutting edge club style. 

And of course, there is the glamorous and ostentatious Lwaxana Troi, Deanna’s mother, who shows up occasionally and steals the show with her outrageous outfits. I loved the costume design for her so much I wrote about it here. 

Later Star Trek series Deep Space Nine, Voyager and Enterprise gave their crews practical-looking jumpsuits and boiler suits, moving away from kitch costumes to outfits that would suit the more minimalist sensibilities of the 90s. There are still some examples of garish casual wear (I feel pretty sure that Jake Sisko’s sweaters are a tribute to the fad for shell suits, which alarmingly seem to be making a comeback), and the show also went into more detail about where their uniforms and off-duty clothes came from. The ships replicators, mostly seen producing “Earl Grey. Hot” for Picard also make and recycle the crew’s uniforms, and, presumably, the outfits for their off-duty shenanigans on the Holodeck. 

Michael Kaplan’s designs for the Star Trek film reboots have updated the original costumes using high-tech looking microfibres, and he has deliberately designed contemporary fashion for the civilian populations of different worlds, rather than riffing on historical clothing. For the new TV series, Discovery, costume designer Gersha Phillips also updated the uniforms with sleek gender-neutral designs, and added in a nod to the popularity of slogan tees (or included a clever bit of in-show advertising for tie-in merchandise): the crew’s workout gear consists of black leggings and a t-shirt with the ship’s name abbreviated to “DISCO”.

Back in the present, it seems like the world of couture can’t make up its mind whether to take the future seriously, or just get involved in some Star Trek TOS cosplay. The theme for the 2016 Met Ball was “Manus X Machina: Fashion in an age of Technology”. The exhibition itself looked at the way the industry is combining traditional techniques with modern technology, but the red carpet featured more sci fi anachronism than innovative couture. Suzy Menkes, writing for Vogue, remarked that “the contrast between the graceful, almost sculptural exhibits and the celebrity vision of what ‘futurism’ means in clothing was dramatic, predictable, and sometimes ridiculous.”

Meanwhile, the sci fi costumes of imagined futures past are affecting our wardrobes in more subtle ways. Although traditional workplaces still enforce dress codes, relaxed working environments have given rise to a self-imposed dress code, one which involves comfortable, easy-to-wear clothing that people can wear for everything, to compensate for their lack of work/life balance. Popularly known as “athleisure”, the look is usually characterised by black stretch yoga pants and a statement sweatshirt. That sounds a lot like a Star Trek uniform to me!

I’m always up for chatting more about costumes or fashion history, and if you’re interested in needing out about Star Trek costumes or 60s fashion, here are some of the books I read to prepare for the talk:

Star Trek Costumes: five decades of fashion from the final frontier
Paula M Block and Terry J Erdmann

Fear and Fashion in the Cold War
Jane Pavitt

Swinging Sixties
Edited by Christopher Breward, David Gilbert and Jenny Lister

Nylon: the manmade fashion revolution
Susannah Handley

Cosplay meets conscious consumerism

May The Fourth Be With You!

I’ve mentioned in a previous post how I enjoy combining my love of ethical fashion and sci-fi and fantasy by looking out for innovative new products that will (hopefully) save us from living in a dystopian hellscape. I also love the ways that the creators of imaginary worlds can critique our own by entertaining rather than lecturing us, and I’ve learned more about myself from fictional characters than I ever would have learned from a self-help book! 

Since today’s date has become synonymous with bad Star Wars puns, I thought I’d commemorate the occasion by putting together a “closet cosplay” (dressing up using clothes I already own) of one of my favourite lesser-known Star Wars characters, showing off one of my favourite sustainable fashion purchases, and musing about how movies can translate their aesthetic and message into merchandising. 

Although the Star Wars movies are a cultural phenomenon in their own right, they are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to stories of a galaxy far, far away. While no one could ever replace Princess Leia (or Carrie Fisher) in my affections, I’ve developed a fondness for Hera Syndulla, who appears in the tie-in novel A New Dawn, set a couple of years before Rogue One and A New Hope. It’s a really fun story about middle-management shenanigans, how (and how not) to be a good activist, and how corporate greed devastates the environment. Oh, and there’s a reluctant Jedi and an exploding moon, if that’s more your sort of thing. Hera is a capable woman who lives by her principles, but gets people to join her cause through kindness rather than anger. That’s definitely something I aspire to! 

As a costume nerd, I’m always interested in a designer's background and where they get their ideas, so I was intrigued (but not surprised) to learn that John Mollo, the original costume designer, had a background as a military uniform historian. While his designs for the trio of heroes featured neutral styles with no specific ties to time or place, the uniforms worn by many of the Imperial officers on the Death Star resemble uniform worn by the axis powers during World War Two. Since Hera is working against the empire but isn’t part of the military, I’ve reimagined her costume as a 1940s Land Girl/factory worker style (this definitely wasn’t just an excuse to wear this cute dungarees and blouse combo).

While the rest of the outfit is vintage, the shoes are one of my favourite and most versatile new-ish purchases, from Po-Zu shoes. The silver leather is actually Pinatex, a vegan leather substitute made from pineapple fibres. I’ve been so excited about this material ever since I first heard about it; it combines natural fibres with a high-tech, futuristic finish. Made into shoes with soles from ethically sourced rubber and a memory foam insole, they are some of the comfiest I’ve ever owned, not to mention the most eye-catching! 

I really love the Star Wars by Po-Zu collaboration and want to see more like this: well-designed tie-in merchandise that is functional and versatile, rather than just a novelty item that is quickly going to be discarded. Big movie franchises have a captive audience for branded clothing; clothing that will put a smile on our faces because we are reminded of our favourite stories, and help us to make connections with other fans.

It would be great if we could add to the feel-good factor by knowing that our geeky garments are made ethically and sustainably; independent t-shirt printers Teemill work with Rapanui, whose t-shirts are made from organic cotton in a wind-powered factory; it would be incredible if this could happen on a wider scale. The stories we love are often about someone trying to make the world a better place, standing up against cruelty and greed, and working to improve the lives of people they might never meet because it’s the right thing to do. The fashion industry isn’t just the chain stores on the high street, it’s everywhere we buy our clothes, and there’s room for improvement everywhere. You might not be able to fight aliens single-handed, but you can always ask “who made my clothes?”

This summer's must-have accessory? Kindness.

The last twelve months have been pretty grim if, like me, you're emotionally invested in creating a fairer, more equal society. In 2016 the EU referendum was fought on a platform of fear and lies, and left an angry, confused and divided nation in its wake. The hate stirred up by the tabloid press and fuelled by professional contrarians has resulted in violence and murder, so when another general election was called I felt like I needed to do something, anything, to counter the hysterical and vitriolic coverage of the election campaign in the press. I 'cosplayed' the election again, sharing my outfit posts (complete with calm and rational political commentary!) with friends on social media in an attempt to give people some more positive, cheerful content to enjoy. 

Unsurprisingly, my posts didn't go far beyond my circle of friends and mutual followers (pleas for considered and thoughtful action just don't have the click-bait appeal of hate-speech) and seeing the horrifying abuse that other people who have encouraged a kind and hopeful approach to politics have received, I'm kind of glad they didn't. But they did make me feel better, as they forced me to focus on the positive rather than the negative, so I wanted to take this feeling forward into how I engage with media content in the long term, rather than just in regard to election coverage.

As well as trying to encourage fear and distrust of one another, we're also encouraged to feel bad about ourselves, and publicly shame or ridicule anyone who isn't following an archaic, classist, discriminatory and seemingly endless list of 'rules' designed to police our appearance. I'd love to live in a world where I could breezily tweet "just wear what you want!" as temperatures soar and we peer into our wardrobes trying to figure out if we have anything, anything at all, that is 'suitable' for whatever we might need to do in weather we're just not used to. But we don't live in this kind of utopian future (yet!) and I'd be doing a disservice to a lot of people if I pretended that we are all subject to equal levels of judgement and condemnation. By moaning about my personal pet peeve (the ongoing policing of the upper arms of all women over 30), I'm belittling the constant public scrutiny other people face over every aspect of their appearance; it's false equivalency. "Wear what you want" doesn't require a daily act of courage from me, a rejection of years of social conditioning, the strength to face media-sanctioned cruelty from strangers. So I'm not going to demand bravery from activists who have been doing it for years, or from people whose bodies and clothing choices are none of my business, but I am going to demand an act of kindness from everyone else. 

We've been brainwashed by countless "circle of shame" or "worst dressed" photos to have similarly uncharitable thoughts about the people around us; people who dare to defy clothing conventions; who dare to (in the words of pearl-clutching tabloids) 'flaunt their assets'. Maybe we need to unpack why we leap to conclusions about folk who just want to go about their day feeling fabulous about themselves. Are we jealous of their apparent fearlessness, angry that they've decided that the rules don't apply to them when we've been trying so hard to follow the rules so closely, and are still told that we're found wanting? Whenever we criticise someone else for being "overdressed" or "not making an effort", for revealing or concealing too much of themselves, we're not just policing their bodies but also our own. We're restricting everyone's freedom of self-expression, but most vital of all we're restricting everyone's ability to feel comfortable in their own skin and just move through the world without attracting unwanted commentary. 

The acts of kindness I want to see involve, at the most basic level, doing nothing. If you don't approve of someone's appearance - who cares? Keep it to yourself! There's a wealth of old adages that can apply to this situation, and with good reason; petty meanness has never been a good look on anyone. Compliment pals who are rocking great outfits instead.

Hopefully this will already be second nature to you, and you might feel emboldened to gently challenge body shaming if you hear it from friends or family, and ignore it when you see it presented as a click-bait headline. As Labour's general election campaign showed, it's possible to challenge the status quo in quite a radical way and win people over to your cause if you do it in a thoughtful and positive way. I was so glad to see that there isn't an infinite appetite for cruelty, spite and deliberate misinformation. People have shown that they can be nuanced in their thinking, and that they are open to a kinder, fairer way of being. But rather than expecting other people to create this world for us, we have to push back, even in the smallest ways, against the relentless negativity we have been subjected to for far too long. Being bitchy is so last season, this summer should be all about kindness, and the joy (or, quite honestly, just quiet relief), that can bring into all our lives.

"Dress for the job you want": how Cosplay can improve the way you view your wardrobe and your life!

One of the biggest issues when it comes to making the most of your wardrobe is wearing what is considered 'appropriate' for the occasion. This is a notion I have problems with, particularly as 'appropriate' seems to mean different things for different bodies, with some given the benefit of the doubt, while for others almost every possible outfit is liable to come in for criticism.  Having a strict workplace dress code can mean you have to buy clothes that aren't really to your taste, resulting in unwanted purchases languishing in your wardrobe, alongside the clothes you really want to wear but don't get the opportunity to. I'm lucky that my workplace has a relaxed attitude and no specific dress code rules; I've established a personal style that is both comfortable and presentable and, most importantly, is 'me'. 

So, what if you don't feel like you can be 'you' at work? I doubt you'd ever assume cosplay was the answer. But a couple of silly things I saw got me thinking, and perhaps it's not the daftest idea in the world after all. 

I first saw this cartoon by extra fabulous comics on Tumblr and loved everything about it; from the woman dressed identically to her (male) boss, to the fact that everyone else in the office seemed to be cosplaying. And of course, there's this someecards meme: "My Boss told me: Dress for the job you WANT, not the job you HAVE; now I'm in a disciplinary meeting in my Wonder Woman costume" so I'm clearly not the first person to entertain the idea of cosplaying at work. For those who haven't heard the term, 'cosplay' is a hobby that involves dressing up as your favourite tv, film or book characters (in made, found or bought costumes), and perhaps taking on a bit of that character's personality too. Some people spend a fortune making painstakingly accurate costumes, others simply re-purpose things from their wardrobes. 

For example, I love mid-20th century fashion, but I find some modern interpretations that focus purely on full-on pin-up glamour too much of A Look for work, so I've often based outfits around styles worn by Peggy Carter in Marvel's Agent Carter, or Peggy Olsen in Mad Men; both characters wear outfits featuring bold prints or colourblocking, which adds a modern twist to vintage styling, and I like the cut and structure of outfits that let both characters take up space when they are at work, rather than being made to look small compared to the men around them. I also love characters whose wardrobe has a real sense of drama; while the McQueen-inspired dresses worn by Effie Trinkett in the Hunger Games definitely aren't suitable for work, her more subdued outfits from the later films are a great style reference for a stylish spin on utilitarian workwear.

You don't just have to copy period or fantasy dramas either, there is some amazing contemporary costuming on TV at the moment. My dream work wardrobe is currently being worn by Lucy Liu as Joan Watson in Elementary (although I'd struggle to do anything, let alone some serious sleuthing, in her towering high heels), while Gillian Anderson and Caroline Dhavernas in Hannibal (a show so immaculately styled it makes cannibalism look disturbingly like it could be an Instagram-worthy lifestyle choice) both wear a series of outfits that walk a fine line between carefully studied elegance and pure melodrama. 

Trying out an outfit based on a costume design can be a great way of trying out different ways to wear our existing clothes, rather than feeling compelled to buy new clothes to keep up with trends, and it can also work as a little psychological boost. 

In difficult or trying times, I seek solace in a well-loved novel, or find comfort in the virtual blanket-nest of a favourite film or TV series. Immersing ourselves in fictional worlds isn't a pointless form of escapism, they can help us learn more about ourselves, give us hope and, most importantly, teach us empathy for people whose lives and experiences differ from our own. I wrote this article about how Star Trek's utopian vision of the future made it my go-to, feel-good show in the wake of the Brexit vote, but dystopias have their appeal too: relief that things aren't that bad, or an opportunity to reflect on how we can avoid ending up in the same situation (hint: right now, the answer is voting! We don't need to arm ourselves to the teeth or head to higher ground just yet). 

A friend from my beginners pointe ballet class suggested that we should all dress as Wonder Woman for a class, using whatever suitable clothes we had to hand. I can't speak for everyone, but I definitely felt an improvement in my posture from dressing as someone so confident and self-assured, and doing something fun that distracted me from being self-critical of my painfully slow progress on pointe probably made me dance better that day.

So if dressing like your favourite fictional character could make you feel more confident, more capable or just help you to enjoy your day, embrace the things you love and the creativity they inspire in you and go for it!