I made mention of Dark Academia earlier when I discussed Donna Tartt’s debut novel, The Secret History. Truth be told, I’d never heard of this aesthetic movement until recently: not surprising, considering where I live, far removed in Northern Ontario.
It’s a new thing, apparently, emerging on Tumblr in 2015
and finding wide appeal with young adults (most notably within higher
education) during the dark days of COVID. The fashion of the 1930s and 1940s
loom large with its adherents: Oxford collars, Oxford shoes, houndstooth and
tweed and all things wool. It earns its name from its colour palette, largely
blacks and browns, and darkly red and green.
This is all well and good, but it is actually “new.” It’s
not, not to my mind, anyway. This “aesthetic” rises up periodically and has
throughout my relatively lengthy life. I recall suits and fedoras becoming
fringe fashion during the 1990’s Swing Revival, to say nothing of 1980’s
Preppies. Colours change, as does cut, but suits and ties are nothing new;
indeed, suits and ties have only fallen out of fashion with the young since the
latter 1960s; prior to that, young adults dressed as their parents did (feel free
to watch just about any film from the 1950s if you doubt the veracity of this
observation). Truth be told, suits and ties have never fallen out of fashion
with the business set: it’s the uniform, as it were. Suits and ties only become
an aesthetic when adopted by the young.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about this
newfound aesthetic. I rather like it. I always have, so much so that I’ve
always gravitated towards this newfound aesthetic ever since I’d had disposable
cash. This is not to say that others of my generation followed suit. They did
not and have not. Most members of my generation, that cohort that slides in
betwixt Baby Boomers and GenX (Generation Jones, if I must put a label on it) have
lived in plaid and jeans and running shoes, and probably ever will. I have too.
And not. I wish I could cite my time away at university for this deviation when
I attended university in Southern Ontario, but I did not, however, see a very
different fashion sense there, either. I might city might love of classic film
for that: Bogie, film noir, Beatniks. I might even cite a night club in working
class Sudbury Ontario that required me to buy my first ensemble to conform to
their dress code (suits and ties for males, dresses for females). Long story
short, I’ve always thought that looks the high watermark of cool. John Hughes
taught me that blazers and ties and wingtip shoes were infinitely cooler than
running shoes and “relaxed fit” jeans. Time passed and though I still owned my
fair share of plaid and 501s, I evolved into Doc Martens, wool turtlenecks, tweed
overcoats, and the like. And Ray-Ban’s! All paired with baseball caps – Detroit
Tigers, at the time, D for David. Tweed sportscoats would follow.
I’m getting away from the topic at hand, aren’t I. What’s
germane here is Dark Academia and whether there is anything new about it. Dark
Academia is just a new take on an old desire for an elevated sense of style.
Perhaps it’s a rebellion against the slow devolution of elegance. Against PJ
loungewear, yoga pants, and the chaotic, cacophonic of fast-fashion.
Why do I keep referring to The Secret History?
Because that novel looms rather large with this aesthetic set.
“Over time, "aesthetic" has evolved from an
academic word and something utilized by artists and auteurs to something to
categorize our own identities by. It can mean both personal style and a vague
stand-in for beauty.” Sara Spelling, Vogue, May 2021.
Sadly, these aesthetics have found criticism. Some
believe them shallow. Others decry their perceived Eurocentrism. Their lack of
diversity, etcetera. Shall I criticize the critics? What is wrong with pursuing
the Western Canon? Its music is rich, its literature profound. Yes, one might
damn it as the product of white males, for the most part; but it also embraces
Mary Shelly, Jane Austen, the Brontes, Elizabeth Gaskell, and others. If you
are literate in Western classical music, you will discover feminine composers,
too, Clara Schumann, for one. One is only limited to one’s imagination. And one’s
prejudices.
One need not confine oneself to products of the 18th and 19th centuries – although one would not be disappointed by any Art produced during the Enlightenment or Victorian Age – one might find a great deal of wonderful works in the 20th century as well: James Baldwin, Alice Walker, Miles Davis and Duke Ellington, to mention a few. Or contemporaries like Jon Batiste. Nothing is stopping you. No one is stopping you. There is nothing wrong with embracing whatever Eurocentric or North American works you desire; but I am biased: I am a product of their legacy.
I do wonder how long lived this aesthetic will be. Fads come and go, after all. It’s probably not even be widespread, however prevalent it is on the internet. Indeed, I’ve no clue how popular it is, really. I live too far north for it to have taken any root here. I do wish it had, though. Perhaps it will creep north as the decades pass if this aesthetic has any legs. Time will tell.
I, myself, if I may be so bold as to say, beat its curve.
I’ve always leaned towards something akin to it. And still do. People took note
of my personal aesthetic, my style, as it were. A few even remarked that I was
brave to stand out, as I did. I’d not thought about it much. I liked what I
liked. That remains true in the music I listen to, an ever evolving animal that
has embraced classic and yacht rock, New Wave, Ska, Reggae, Alternative,
Grunge, the American Songbook, Swing, Classical, and Jazz over the years. I could
say the same of my choice of literature: Tolkien, SF, Beat, the Expats, History
and Philosophy, Poetry, Pynchon, Salinger, DFW, and Donna Tartt.
What does it matter. Not a jot. And everything. It’s all
personal. But it is also what we project into the world. One might say we all
don masks, but I wonder if that is true. We all don an aesthetic; one we hope
will attract like souls with whom we hope to alleviate the loneliness we all
feel inside.
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