Colechi talks to Catrin Brooke about the fashion industry’s popularisation of workwear and the negative effects this may have on the working class consumer.
‘Although the counter culture’s fascination with ‘anti-fashion’ often originates with a desire to sympathise and identify with working class, ethnic and less disadvantaged groups in society, its main thrust typically comes from disaffected and rebellious middle-class youth’ (p. 23).
What is the title of your work?
An Investigation into how Manual Working-Class Workwear has been Adopted Across all Classes and Whether or Not this Represents Cultural Appropriation
How does your work approach the exploration of workwear in the fashion world?
The overarching argument is whether or not workwear, in being adopted and worn by the other (‘upper’) classes, represents cultural appropriation and whether or not this is problematic.
I explore this argument through various different contexts, spotlighting recurring themes and issues. I start off by defining the British working class and defining ‘workwear’ in these terms, as to establish the variables within the given context. I then also define cultural appropriation in its wider meaning, as to establish this as its own variable, to ensure equal comparison.
To find out whether this is appropriation, my chapters are categorised into short ‘case’ studies, used to explore the question. The titles of these chapters are Exclusivity, Ostentatious V. Understated, Cosplay, Bourgeois v. Bohemia v. Art, Parasite, Suspension of Institutional Commitment, Counterculture nostalgia, Sartorial Storytelling and Expanded practice (which touches on the practical coursework I planned to work on after my submission date). I then conclude my thoughts, findings and argument for this passage.
Did you make any interesting discoveries whilst researching fashion and class?
Fashion will always be recycled- and I don’t mean only in the sustainable sense, but in terms of trend cycles in order to feed our seasonal anti-fashion fixtures. We will always be inspired by an individual, or decade, and more recently the merging of eastern and western influences added into the mix. Fashion is supposed to be fun, inclusive and experimental.
However, I was surprised by how common it was for society to use the working-classes across popular culture for comedic means and still how rife using working class inspiration is across the arts industry – in the media, in television and in physical artistry.
Britain is built on the foundation of having a (now mostly redundant) defined class structure, which somewhat explains the (unacceptable) acceptance we have towards bashing each other for satirical success.
Everyone understands the comedic effect because we were brought up witnessing it beyond the history books and on our tv screens. This is why it perhaps began to feed into using their clothing as another means to an end; fashion purposes. Maybe it was redirecting these narratives that started moving beyond the satirical and into the sartorial realm.
‘It could be argued that DHL, as one of the most successful companies in the world, is not exactly a typical ‘victim’ but it’s worth remembering, however, that it’s the people at the bottom of the DHL ‘food chain’, the delivery drivers who wear garments sporting the logo, who have had their workwear ‘consumed’ and not the owners or management (who can presumably choose what they wear at work) (p. 21)’.
What did your research conclude in regards to whether popularising workwear is a form of cultural appropriation?
Workwear is just an element of working-class culture which, whilst it may serve an important practical purpose and be of cultural and historical interest, cannot be compared to ethnic or racial appropriation that hold religious, spiritual and cultural significance. And whilst this sort of mockery and condescension towards working-class people and culture is completely regressive and reprehensible behaviour, it’s not cultural appropriation.
Working-class people, so far as they can be identified, have no affection for workwear itself and do not particularly care that it’s worn by others, after all you can only get your hands on the real thing by working for it and the working-classes are having the last laugh.
However, there is still a huge element of discomfort. To make these clothes fashionable when there are certainly more sinister, social issues at play doesn’t feel right. Where the discomfort lies, is the conscious, aesthetic choice to ‘dress poor’ as an act-alone fashion statement and then conveniently shy away from the adversity the working-classes have faced in modern Britain (think bedroom tax, ramifications of Thatcher’s government that are still felt today, and Boris Johnson’s entire tenure throughout the coronavirus crisis).
Taking this into the realm of clothing, this deep-rooted social elitism enables the privileged to pick and choose at their own disposal what they deem trendy, and allows the historical narratives woven within these items of clothing to become overlooked. Workwear was worn by key workers who battled covid on our front lines, so why are there paisley blue overalls available in Prada?
These clothes, though much, much lower down on the scale of personal importance than say that of total governmental disregard, still hold a deeper political meaning. They’re the uniforms of hardworking people who helped build and maintain the country that the social elite could enjoy.
‘Working-class youths may borrow or adapt a parent’s uniform or old work clothes, keen to refigure and experiment with the garments – and thus redefining their narrative. These articles of clothing then become adopted across society, as young working-class adults begin to move around the country, and more recently share ideas on social media (p. 23)’.
How do you think your discussion on the issues within class and the fashion industry could affect the future of fashion?
Though my work sets about to discuss the capitalisation of working-class work wear as commercial goods, and whether or not this represents cultural appropriation, there is a heavy emphasis surrounding the injustice we see in the industry. Those with money and family connections continue to succeed, pulling and merchandising whatever garments they see fit for fruitful retail. (We see this a lot via Depop, small-instagram businesses and on gen-z it-girls, not bashing- just observing).
As I discuss, the fashion industry, like art, is dominated by nepotism and the upper-middle classes who can afford the luxury of a fashion education and money to kickstart their brand or sustain non-paying internships. However, even since finishing my dissertation in January 2021, I feel that we are certainly seeing a huge change in this discourse, as social media continues to expand the opportunity for non-exclusive creatives to seize exposure, collaborations and recognition, in providing a digital platform that serves as their gallery, shop or catwalk.
I hope that as we see a shift in industry ownership, we will also see the authentic talent and inspiration behind commercial fashion success get the recognition they deserve. Those who have helped inspire and place British fashion to the forefront of global fashion should no longer be forgotten when they are no longer ‘needed’.
It’s great to see more young creatives flourish from all societal backgrounds and to see more meritocratic success recognised in fashion. The future is looking positive, but we still have a long way to go.
‘[They] do not particularly care that wealthy people choose to spend hundreds of pounds on garments they could get for a few quid; after all, you can only get your hands on the real thing by working for it and the working-class are having the last laugh (p. 31)’.
Since writing this piece, are there any new findings or trends in workwear that you would include if you were to rewrite your work?
The insatiable hunger for utility and workwear has only increased as we see high fashion, typically feminine brands take on cargos, scandi girls take on balaclavas and Ye take on the utility gilet at GAP.
As we now make the transition into ‘gorp-core’ fanatica, the functional, hard wearing, uniform aesthetic once more reigns superior and prices for functional and practical goods are skyrocketing from their Dad-on-a-camping-trip days. We now have brands, like Salamon, Arc’teryx and Taikann, who are Gen-z and Millennial fashion savvy and buying in Soho – a far cry from Snowdonia. Though this irony is contextually quite funny, and doesn’t target a social group, it echoes the same argument with utility wear and almost provides some resonance. Anything that is so anti-fashion has the potential to become coveted.
I think furthermore, that both (typically) working-class work wear and ‘gorp-core’ clothing are boxier, baggier and unisex and that this is in tandem with societies transition into genderless clothing and silhouettes. If revisited, it would be interesting to explore these parallels.
