Class is in Session: The Anti-Uniform 101
Long school years are spent pulling on scratchy jumpers, scuffing sensible lace-up Clarks, sweltering in cumbersome pleated skirts and being sent to the principal’s office for the most arbitrary “violations” of the uniform policy (curse the day I wore a blue hair tie instead of black).
Welcome to the anti-uniform - our answer to the regimented mundanity of school days. It takes us back to street style 101 and the origins of grunge as a philosophy. Fingers on lips, hands in laps: This is your lesson on the fundamentals of the anti-uniform.
What is the Anti-Uniform?
The anti-uniform seems harmless enough, but its origins lie in the heady, dangerous counterculture of the 90s. It was the first time mental health became an artistic subject matter in pop culture, culminating in the use of black as an expression of self. The anti-uniform melds a monochromatic palette with versatile silhouettes, making it customizable and non-prejudicial. Its widespread accessibility enabled a level of autonomy for the wearer that other styles didn’t previously allow.
Born in the 90s
The anti-uniform was born out of the avant-garde movement championed by the likes of Yohji Yamamoto, who imbued a Japanese design sensibility into fashion as performance art. In 1983, Yamamoto expressed to The New York Times the ethos that a more holistic version of fashion should be presented, without the corrupting influence of gender barriers. “When I started designing, I wanted to make men’s clothes for women.” The idea that clothing can transcend arbitrary gender values fed into the counterculture spirit of the 90s.
Our most tried and true unisex styles of today were popularised in the 90s. The Vans Old Skool, Chuck Taylors, and Dickie’s trousers were all symbolic of traditionally masculine subcultures (such as the skateboard scene), that were adopted by girls on a mass scale for the first time.
Raised by Rock
If fashion was a way to signal an individual’s tendency towards counterculture, then music was a way to transmit these ideas globally. Progressive Rock had its revival, making it one of many trends that had been incubating since the 1960s only to gain new relevance in the 90s. The genre acted as experimental grounds for the most far-out ideas in rock; heavy use of synthesizers and orchestral arrangements, down-the-rabbit-hole journeys into the ether and primal expressions of sound. At the same time, the returned hippie aesthetic of the 70s was merging with the minimalism of anti-fashion, resulting in a loud, clashing style now synonymous with the time. Metal bands began to apply prog ideals to their sound and translated the haphazard spirit of anti-fashion into a sonically broad aural palette.
Lessons in Grunge
Instead, the grunge scene baptized fashion in its own ideals. Music that poignantly expressed heavy topics such as mental health manifested in clothing as torn, frayed fabrics, muted hues with bursts of colour – Courtney Love’s bright red lipstick, or Layne Staley’s fluorescent pink hair. Stripes and checks abounded with heavy combat boots grounding what were textural, lofty ensembles. At the helm of the grunge scene was Kurt Cobain, with his sympathetic lyricism and guttural singing paired with haunting, discordant guitar chords. Known to wear flannel shirts and sundresses, he didn’t bother rewriting the rule book – he simply threw it out.
The Legend Continues
At the tail-end of the 90s, Rick Owens made his start in fashion, his designs embodying the ennui of the decade past and making a name for himself as the “Lord of Darkness,” an ideal lifted straight out of anti-fashion.
We take it for granted today but the anti-fashion of the 90s has left its mark everywhere, living out its legend in the quiet corners of our wardrobes. They’re the most versatile pieces we own, lending us the validation of countercultural relevance as well as the anti-uniform we return to time and time again.
Class dismissed. Might be a pop quiz tomorrow, might not.
Sleep in fear tonight.
