/https%3A%2F%2Fblueprint-api-production.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fuploads%2Fcard%2Fimage%2F902868%2Faecde128-5376-4145-9435-63f39e540027.jpg)
Between straight-to-the-trash reboots, Roseanne dramedy, and jeans big enough for the Partridge family to fit in, the '90s nostalgia wave has hit the country hard in the past few years.
You know what? Bring it on.
If nothing else, digital nostalgia has brought us dykeyspice and multiple other Instagram accounts dedicated to exploring the feminist queerness at the heart of '90s fashion.
For that, we should be sort of grateful.
Say what you will about '90s queer culture — bad backpack patches, painfully responsible cars — queer, "gender-bending" fashion has somehow found its way to the safe, commoditized mainstream. Back in those days, we often called it "tomboy fashion." Some of us may have been so advanced as to label it "androgynous."
It's no secret that the queer community has always been the backbone of American fashion, even in its most corporatized form. What is fascinating is how little celebrities and regular people in the '90s were aware of the gender-bending queerness at the heart of their design — or how little they cared, if they did know.
Manipulating gender performance was somewhat culturally acceptable, at least among celebrities. Changing one's gender or sexuality was not.
Instagram account dykeyspice captures this specific cross-pollination, particularly as it relates to '90s "butch dyke" fashion.
Just look at how it manifested with the Spice Girls: Sporty Spice, aka Melanie C, who is not openly gay, once rocked the classic athletic butch gay lewk.
Other Spice Girls also sported a similarly coded and queer aesthetic. Mel B sometimes embraced a historically masculine look, supersized for the '90s. Mel B wasn't openly queer in 1996, at the Spice Girls' peak. She did later reveal that she had a five year relationship with a woman.
It's easy to identify when you see a cis woman in, say, a Rugby shirt and a backwards baseball cap. It's much harder to spot a "queer aesthetic" when it's cis women dressing in more traditionally feminine attire.
Still, there are signifiers: maybe someone dressed "performatively," hyperbolically feminine, or they posed with someone rocking a more traditionally visibly queer aesthetic.
Other accounts besides dykeyspice have also recognized this phenomenon. Instagram account EveryLesbianAndTheirFashion chronicles lesbian fashion throughout the years, even when it's worn by people who don't identify as queer.
Over at Herstory, which identifies as a "DYKE history account," Kelly Rakowski chronicles queer women's history. The account is worth a follow, but I have a soft spot for shots of '90s Xennial and Gen-X gays embracing their full queer selves:
Just look at that denim-plaid pairing:
The Queen at peak Queen:
Other accounts dedicated to the '90s can't help but showcase some of the queer aesthetic, even if they're not fully aware of it. Take Instagram account 90s anxiety, for example. Look at Winona Ryder and that top button. She buttoned her shirt all the way to the damn top, which is something of a queer signifier nowadays:
These accounts sometimes even highlight the aesthetics of teenage boy heartthrobs. Some of the '90s teeny idols were coded as queer by their queer fans — too young to be toxically masculine and with plenty residual feminine/androgynous features to make them "queer."
There were plenty of Tiger Beat boys who fell into this category:
And obviously, this story wouldn't be complete without a Hansons brothers shoutout:
I've spent the past year bitching and moaning about the nostalgic internet. These accounts, however, are undeniably good
Make sure to thank your local '90s queer fashion Instagram account manager today. Internet nostalgia is a better phenomenon because of them.
No comments:
Post a Comment