memories of lolita past 2: (mis)conceptions of oldschool

 Around this time in last year, I wrote a blog post about “oldschool” and the perceptions of “early lolita'' within sections of the community. The hunger for history and nostalgic aesthetics seems to have only advanced since, as I’ve noticed a significant increase in demand for dresses and accessories that embody the stereotypical “oldschool” look. 

Photoshoot for the Nostalgia Collection by Summer Tales Boutique, featuring model Rosalynn (@lolitawonderland on Instagram).
Taken from the Summer Tales Boutique webshop.

But what is this look, and how should it be achieved? Oldschool seems to mean different things to different people. Many associate it with solid pieces with stark, relatively simple colour palettes; although floral and patterned fabrics, like tartans and gobelin, are equally popular. The designs of the dresses themselves are usually considered simpler and “more wearable” than modern lolita, perhaps reflecting the notion that the fashion was more “authentic” in its early years. Some believe that only pieces produced within a certain period of time (usually from the 1990s to early 2000s) can be counted as "true" oldschool, though I personally think overall design is more important than the age of the garment (please read my previous post on the subject if you want to know why!).

To contribute to these debates, I will be exploring some common perceptions about oldschool and early lolita, and comparing them to photographs and streetsnaps we have from the early to mid 2000s. This is not to argue that any particular definition of oldschool or lolita history is wrong, but rather to push the boundaries of the substyle, and challenge what we consider “authentic” in current lolita fashion. So, whether you agree or disagree with me on what oldschool is (or isn’t), I hope we can enjoy finding inspiration from these images, and what they can tell us about our fashion and our community – past, present, and future. 

“It’s not a costume”: lolita and the politics of “fashion”

    It's one of the first things we learn upon entering the community: that lolita is a fashion, not a costume.

    The sentiment transcends language as one of the core tenants of the subculture, and is something that gets hammered into the minds of every young lolita — even those who don’t have their first coordinate yet. The meaning of the phrase seems obvious, and, in a lot of ways, it is. It means that lolita is not meant to be a performance that’s done for others. It isn’t like cosplay or historical re-enactment, where the goal is to entertain or emulate someone from a different time or place. When we say that lolita is a fashion, what we mean is that it is a form of self-expression, a part of who we are and how we view ourselves. You don’t dress as a lolita, you are a lolita. 

"Jane Marple" from Kidaore Hojoki / Happy Victims by Kyoichi Tsuzuki. 
https://happy-victims.tumblr.com/post/76421416911/jane-marple

    This dichotomy brings with it a few assumptions about clothing, identity, performativity, and “fashion” itself. Mainly, it assumes that “costume” and “fashion” are inherently separate, and that what separates them is the idea of performing a character — or, more generally, performing for other people. This speaks to the individualistic nature of lolita as a subculture, and its philosophy of prioritising personal happiness over societal expectations. However, it also ties into the complexities of fashion and how it has traditionally been defined. In this blog post, I will be exploring some of these ideas and how they relate to lolita fashion, as well as the difference in how “costume” and “fashion” are treated within the community. 

living lolita loca

    The idea of the "lifestyle lolita" is one that's almost as old as the fashion itself. The archetypal lolita, as promoted in much of lolita-related media, is seen as a kind of wannabe-princess, living a suitably sheltered and romantic existence. In addition to wearing the fashion, the use of formal language, careful table manners, and traditionally "ladylike" hobbies are all associated with being a "lifestyle lolita". But do these types of activities really represent the fashion or the people that wear it? In a subculture as varied and multifaceted as lolita, what does it really mean to live a lolita "lifestyle"?

    This blog post is an exploration of the archetypal image of the "lifestyle lolita", the tropes associated with the term, and the media and philosophy that has inspired it. Through this examination, I hope to offer an alternative to the notion that a lifestyle lolita is based solely around a particular set of stereotypical activities or behaviours. Instead, I argue that engaging with the history, ideals, and, of course, the culture of lolita is what lies truly at the heart of the fashion. And as long as someone wears lolita fashion and keeps its spirit in their hearts, the "lifestyle" of lolita can be as diverse and varied as lolitas themselves. 

"A Day in Gothic & Lolita Life" from GLB 04, published December 2001.
Images courtesy of Lolita History.

Grandma's Wallpaper: Florals Prints, Hybridity, and the Question of Cultural Appropriation in Lolita Fashion

    "Is wearing lolita cultural appropriation?" The question has been brought up several times in discussions about lolita fashion, especially in the Western community. It's a concern that can be taken from multiple angles: Are non-Japanese people wearing lolita appropriating the fashion because it originated in Japan, and largely designed by and for Japanese women? Did Japanese women appropriate the fashions and cultures of Europe in the construction of lolita fashion and its subcultures? Is it alright for non-Japan or non-East Asian people to continue wearing the fashion?

    In my opinion, these anxieties stem from the complicated nature of lolita's historical inspirations. While we commonly associate the fashion with the Rococo and Victorian eras, we seldom connect this to the fact that international trade, colonialism, and imperialism were a part of these histories. Many of the artistic and cultural touchstones that we now consider quintessentially "European", such as English gardens, afternoon tea, fine porcelain, floral wallpapers, and printed dresses - all of which are part of the inspiration behind lolita fashion and culture - were actually the products of both international trade and cultual appropriation between European powers and other nations. Without the rise in global trade, exploitation, and colonization, they wouldn't even exist. 

Robe a la Francaise, sewn in England with Chinese silk, ca. 1735-1760, V&A Museum, London / 
Old Rose JSK, released 2014, Baby, the Stars Shine Bright

    Thinking about lolita fashion with this in mind complicates its historical and cultural inspiration, as well as the narratives of lolita simply being a "Japanese take on European fashions". It begs the question of what is "European", and, by extension, what is "Japanese"? As we start to piece together all of these different socio-historical contexts, using them to look beyond the surface of the fashion and the way that it has constructed its current sense of self, what is "lolita"? 

    This blog post will examine these questions through one of the most common motifs in lolita fashion: floral prints, often jokingly compared to "grandma's wallpaper" because of their strong associations with old-fashioned houses and interiors. It aims to explore the concepts of hybridity, mimicry, and cultural appropriation in the context of the fashion, looking beyond the essentialist categories of "East" and the "West". And while I don't think one post is going to be able to answer all of the questions posed in the introduction, I hope that it might inspire readers to reconsider how we view lolita's identity within the world of fashion -- and, by extension, how modern social and cultural identities have been  constructed more generally. 

Lolita, Rebellion, and the "Cocoro" of "Rococo"

    The Rococo period and its representation in art, literature, and media, has been a source of inspiration in lolita fashion since its inception. But beyond the pure beauty and aesthetics of the era - with its opulence and theatricality, the iconic pastels and lavish gilded curls - there is something about this phenomenon that's worth considering: why? 

    Why did Rococo, an art style from 18th-century Europe, which was primarily the confined to the realms of the aristocratic elite, become the template for an alternative fashion pioneered by young Japanese women in the late 20th century? For me, this is a question in two parts - firstly, why a European art movement, and secondly, why Rococo spefically? After all, there is no shortage of beauty and opulence in the history of Japanese art, and there are many romanticised historical periods that one might choose from. So why did early lolitas choose emulate a period of history that was so far from home in terms of geography, politics, economics, class, and culture? 

Robe a la Francaise, made in France, ca. 1760. V&A Museum, London. /
Robe a la Francaise OP, released in 2018, Baby the Stars Shine Bright.

    The most obvious answer might simply be that the beautiful and fantastical aesthetics of Rococo happened to appeal to these young women. Many additional factors play into this as well, like the history of interaction and exchange between Japan and the West, as well as the strong cultural influences that European powers have spread across the globe over centuries of imperialism and colonial power struggles.

    However, I believe there may be another layer of reasoning which belies the rebellious and radical message behind lolita fashion. That is the layer that I'm going to be exploring in my blog post today. 

queerness and homosociality in lolita fashion

Lolita has always been a highly feminine, if not female, subculture. It takes inspiration from historically feminine and "girly" motifs, encourages the participation of female-identifying or female-presenting persons, and soundly rejects the imposition of the male gaze on either the fashion or the people wearing it. Simply put, lolita is a celebration of the feminine, by the feminine, for the feminine — a place where people who enjoy this particular form of gender expression can express themselves openly.

Stock image for Innocent World's Emma One Piece, released 2020.
Image courtesy of Innocent World's official online shop.
(https://innocent-w.jp/onlineshop/en/)

It is because of this that I view lolita fashion as a queer, homosocial space, with a culture that is distinct from much of mainstream heteronormativity and patriarchal expectations. And, as a very late Valentine’s Day tribute, this blog post is going to be discussing queerness and queer theory in the context of lolita fashion, exploring manifestations of homosociality and homoromanticism in lolita communities and media. 

memories of lolita past

    Nostalgia has been sweeping through the worldwide fashion scene these past few years, and lolita is no different. Slowly but steadily, we've seen members of the community drifting towards the oldschool substyle, drawing inspiration from Kera magazines, Gothic & Lolita Bibles, Kamikaze Girls and brand advertisements, trying to capture the "good old days" of lolita fashion. Brands have started to follow suit, revamping or rereleasing classic styles - just last year Baby the Stars Shine Bright released a JSK version of the iconic Elizabeth OP, and 2021 promises the return of some of the most beloved designs from 2008-2012 era Angelic Pretty. (In case anyone was wondering, this author has already started saving her pennies in anticipation of the rerelease of Nakoyoshi Bunny. I am nothing if not thematically consistent.)

Nakoyoshi Bunny JSK by Angelic Pretty, released 2008. Set to be re-released some time in 2021.
Stock image from Angelic Pretty, courtesy of Lolibrary
(https://lolibrary.org/items/ap-nakayoshi-bunny-jsk)

    Natrually, every lolita who's interested in the history of the fashion or the aesthetic of oldschool as a substyle has their own reasons. However, I've noticed that a few ideas in particular have come to dominate the discourse. One is a preference for the more simplistic designs of some older releases, which had far less of the elaborate border prints we see today. Another is the perception that older dresses had better quality and construction, or were more likely to use cotton as opposed to polyester. Yet to me, the most interesting factor that plays into people's interest in oldschool or early lolita is the not-uncommon refrain that it was somehow better, and especially more "pure" or "authentic", than modern lolita.