Fashion Mixtape: Lolita Nouveau

"Harajuku Girls" by Elvin on Flickr

 We sit down in our barren living room,  which is still lined with boxes half-unpacked. My sixteen-year-old daughter, Sadie, sits cross-legged on our replica mid-century modern couch. She has just gotten her hair cut, a French bob with bangs, a la Amelie. Her eyes are lined with liquid black eyeliner with pink blush topped on top of her round cheeks, and she has paired Doc Martens combat boots with a black-and-white checkered halter dress. She could have walked into a scene in Amelie and seamlessly fit in. The dress is hand-sewn, and it is either a replica of a 1950s dress or is true vintage. “There’s no tag, so it’s hard to know,” she’s told me on several occasions.

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I've asked her to sit down and talk with me about Gen-Z alternative fashion for a creative nonfiction project I'm completing for a class. She is gleaming with youthful confidence, and her voice exudes a tone of approval that tells me this is “her thing”. Of course, she's perfect for the project. But what I haven't yet told her is that many of the styles she and her friends adorn themselves with originate in the styles I wore and was interested in when I was a young adult – Emo, Punk, Goth, Lolita, Fairy-Kei, and more. We’ve never really discussed this as a mother and daughter before. “My style is kind of like a mix between 1950s vintage and Fairy Core slash Cottage Core and J-Fashion,” she’s told me many iterations of this statement in the past, but she repeats it as she leans back in her seat, “anything cute and doll-like, kind of like a baby doll’s fashion.”  The names are all different, but I see distinct cyclical trend-lineages, motifs derivative of early 00’s Pop, and Emo and Harajuku subcultures in everything Gen-Z wears today: the music, the makeup and hair, the labels and sub-labels, and the clothes. According to Sadie, however, her style started out as a mode of self-expression, self-love, and friendship.

“I got into it because I had many emo, goth, and scene friends, and I saw the way that they were dressed. They would go all-out with all of their outfits, and I got a little inspired. But I always liked pink instead of their color choices – which were normally black or just muted colors – so I just went with what I liked, which was pink, and I would go online and see things like frilly skirts, pleated skirts, cute pink sweaters and I would just go off of that.” The mention of “the internet” of course brought us to TikTok, and when asked whether the social media platform was a source of inspiration, Sadie responded, “I think [TikTok inspires] a lot because it’s kind of difficult to find – um, like if you were just my age, like sixteen or fifteen walking around school – you wouldn’t really find people dressing that [alternative] way.” 

It goes without saying that TikTok and Instagram have made it immeasurably easy to access alternative fashion trends – a stark contrast to the pre-iPhone era. Before the emergence of the social video platform, one first had to find a friend or two who were involved in an alternative subculture – and there were some that were more accepted than others. Next, there were the hours and hours of perusing Livejournal if you were interested in such subcultures as Lolita or J-Fashion – subcultures that were singular and rarely found in the US. In other words, finding your “tribe” was difficult.

Having possibly originated in the late 1970s in the Harajuku district of Tokyo – there is little documentation to confirm its emergence – Lolita (and by default, its substyles) has faced criticism and judgment in its spread to the US and other Western countries, starting in the 1990s. Although it is derivative of 18th-century French Rococo and Victorian styles, its label, “Lolita,” associates it with the Nabokov novel of the same name, and therefore with promiscuity and pedophilia. It is unfair to sexualize the style, however - Lolitas wear modest, knee-length frilly skirts and pinafore dresses. They get together for tea and pastries, and generally just aspire to look as cute (i.e., kawaii) as humanly possible. Regardless of its true objectives, Lolita fashion has been historically laden with misconceptions, and, naturally, the burdens that go with it. 

However, it's clear that Lolita and J-Fashion are not going anywhere. Their prevalence on the TikTok has proved that the styles have longevity, longer than most trends. Sadie, while not in complete Lolita dress (many Lolitas wear wigs and intentionally over-accessorize), is inspired by the style, and if there is a way to incorporate a pink frilly thing into her outfit, she will. However, though she does not know the origins of Lolita fashion, it does not mean she is not in-line with its ethics – Lolita, and many J-Fashion styles for that matter, are not about being “in-style,” but more about community.  Sadie confirms this by saying, “I was more of like ‘oh, these people like this fashion too,’ it was more of my friends that made me feel like I was okay to wear that [alternative fashion] around school.” 

So, perhaps while alternative styles are more accessible, wearing them still takes a lot of courage. Having a safe place amongst friends helps. “In middle school I didn’t have a single friend who would dress the way I wanted to, and so I just didn’t. And um, because I have my group of 5-7 friends who like to dress – like to express themselves through fashion – I feel like I can. Even though I do get weird looks or comments from certain people it’s easier to do what I want to because I feel comfortable around my friends.” Maybe it isn’t about looking “cool” all the time, or maybe the definition of “cool” is shifting, or maybe it’s simply about finding a tribe of people who accept you. No matter what.