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. 

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. 

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. 

Bunnies and bears and fawns and bunny-bears, oh my!

    The world of lolita fashion would be a much duller place without its fluffy animal friends. As embodiments of the aesthetic sensibilities of their respective brands, mascots and mascot-like characters have represented the subculture on dresses, cutsews, bags, headwear, novelties, and even shoes. Like lolita fashion itself, these characters are an exercise in harmonious contradictions, sitting on the borders of the cute and the unsettling, the elegant and the outlandish, the sweet and the rebellious. They are our silent, but loyal companions, offering their own quiet encouragement - holding our hearts even if they can't always hold our phones (or keys, or wallets , or books, or anything more than a single tube of lipstick.)

Usakumya Rucksack Mini Mini from Baby, the Stars Shine Bright, released 2019.
Stock image from Baby, the Stars Shine Bright, courtesy of Lolibrary.
(https://lolibrary.org/items/btssb-usakumya-rucksack-mini-mini-2019)

    This post is a celebration of the iconic mascots of Baby, the Stars Shine Bright, Angelic Pretty, and Metamorphose Temps de Fille. I'll be looking into their backstories, the historical inspirations behind the characters, and how they reflect different aspects of the philosophy behind the fashion. 

lolita, by any other name...

    Around the end of 2020, "lolita fashion" began trending on twitter following a certain twitter user's assertion that the fashion was connected to grooming and child sexual abuse. Lolitas across the world responded by flooding the tag with positive examples of the fashion. Many users, and even the official Twitter hashtag, made a point to mention that the fact that the fashion and the book are not connected. All of these posts culminated in a popular youtuber creating an image that loudly proclaimed, "Lolita fashion has nothing to do with the book Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov", which has been widely shared across Instagram. 

From @lovelylor on Instagram

    This is just the most recent example of lolitas banding together to fight the misconceptions that have arisen from the name of the fashion. The discussion, if it can even be called that, is old hat by now - someone (usually an observer who has no experience with lolita or any other kind of alternative fashion) denounces the fashion and attacks its wearers. Lolitas defend themselves against the accusations, and "solutions" are proposed to prevent further misunderstandings. People talk about how to educate the "normies", how to raise awareness about the fashion and its history, and even debate changing the name of the style entirely. Blog posts are written, Instagram posts are shared, Twitter threads get made, Facebook discussion groups and Discord servers burst to life with activity. It's clear that this is an issue that many members of our community feel passionate about. 

    But I, personally, want to add something to the statement so often made by so many lolitas about the relationship between the fashion and Nabokov's novel. Lolita fashion has nothing to do with the book Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.... and even if it did, it wouldn't matter.