V&A Fashioning Masculinities
- Caroline

- Apr 13, 2022
- 4 min read
Updated: May 30, 2022
In all honesty, the V &A’s Fashioning Masculinities exhibition wasn’t top of my list of things to see this year. A friend asked if I’d like to join her and pushing memories of a lacklustre handbag exhibition out of my mind, I accepted.
I think my hesitation was primarily uncertainty; successfully unpicking gender in accessible, public spaces is not an easy task and I feared the V&A spotlighting some beautiful clothing and glossing over the nuances. To their credit, I was pleasantly surprised. Not only is the exhibition engaging and visually stimulating, but there’s also a bustling atmosphere and a multi-media range of exhibits that celebrate the breadth of masculinities whilst highlighting their darker manifestations in conflict and colonisation. That said, the references to colonisation are brief and there’s almost no engagement with class and wealth: working class masculinities are nowhere to be seen.
Interestingly there’s no denim in the exhibition – a fabric that in my mind has quite an explicit relationship with modern and working-class masculinities – and there’s also little direct comment on athleisure: instead, it’s implied by the focus on the evolution and decline of the suit and traditional tailoring. The V&A is not arguing the transformation is a negative thing, just that like many of the fashions and attires before it, the suit is being remoulded by contemporary perspectives. That said, the amount of attention devoted to it does suggest a fondness for the suit and a desire to remind the audience not to fully discard it.
The exhibition unfolds across three galleries: Undressed, Overdressed and Redressed. Moving through and between the spaces is what creates the narrative and it’s the continuities and contrasts that underline the V&A’s point – masculinities are constantly being redefined by contemporary perceptions of the male body and how to dress it.
Undressed was one of my favourite spaces. The grey walls divert all attention to the undergarments, classical sculptures, video clips and photographs in the room. The two classical sculptures loom large, visually representing their impact on narratives of masculinity. Their toned, muscular, static poses are a dramatic and sometimes comical contrast to the bouncing, semi-naked and genuinely naked bodies in the film clips. The curators have not been shy here and it’s refreshing to see penises front and centre, as well as the inclusion of binding undergarments – the human body is a living, breathing, lumpy and bumpy entity. Subsequent artworks are designed to draw attention to an allusion of masculine virility, but you can’t quite dislodge the actual penis from your mind as you look at them – and that’s the point – allusions are not reality, masculinities are as much fabricated as they are tangible.

Progressing into Overdressed and the sumptuous outfits are matched by the rich dark colours on the walls. There’s contemporary fashion side by side with early modern attire, showing how conspicuous consumption has persisted throughout time. There’s also a whole section devoted to different colours and prints, and whilst the V&A does a good job of pointing out that pink has only recently been associated with femininity, there’s a striking omission of commentary on masculinity and empire here. The label about red springs to mind: ‘Red is an enduring symbol of power. Its associations with bravery and robustness flourished in the 16th century, when cochineal was introduced to Europe from Mexico’. ‘Introduced to Europe’ here standing in for the Spanish conquest of the Aztecs. Red is a symbol of power – initially for Montezuma’s empire who placed taxes on cochineal in the 15th century, but it’s also a symbol of a completely different power when it’s monopolized by the Spanish, incorporated into their clothing and present in the pictures and art collections that depict their superiority.
It's a similar story with yellow: ‘In China, yellow was reserved for the emperor, empress and dowager empress… The colour became fashionable in 18th century Europe as part of the wider taste for Chinese products.’ And hence the beautiful yellow fabrics on display ‘must have been made for the export market’. But there’s no further education on this and the reality of those trade links. What does it mean for European men to be wearing Chinese yellow fabric when the vast majority of men in China are prohibited from wearing it? Colourful fashions and wealthy, military, and mercantile European masculinities were being built off the backs of slavery, war, and colonisation. By not calling this out more directly, there’s a seemingly unquestioned celebration of destructive and violent masculinities.
The V&A does try to engage with colonisation – with the inclusion of fashions and artworks by modern artists who are trying to reclaim and broaden narratives, like Kehinde Wiley. In the Redressing gallery too there’s a travelling dressing case (i.e. shaving kit) belonging to Phineas Nunes of Barbados. The label here does provide much needed context: ‘This dressing case… is a particularly lavish example. Phineas… who would have benefited economically from the exploitation of enslaved labour on the island, bought this expensive case in London’. Yet it feels as though the V&A is asking you as an audience member to decide what to make of the case and its inclusion. With Alice Procter’s The Whole Picture ringing in my ears, I still find myself wondering: Why is it here? How does it fit with the rest of the exhibition? Arguably it stands out from the rest of the exhibition and perhaps that’s the point.





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