In November, a short and sweet profile appeared in The New Yorker by Antonia Hitchens called “Vogue, But for Trumpers.” The admirably non-slanderous piece described two young women who have created a kind of right-wing response to the style publishing dinosaur, now a dwindling relic from the days of monthly photo spreads and fat expense accounts. Their site, called The Conservateur, correctly seeks to remedy what has gone so wrong in creative industries — the fact that articles on abortion now take up more pages in fashion mags than actual clothing, and the near total exclusion of any artist not in line with identity mania.
Still, there’s plenty of political content on the visually appealing site. Ours is a virulently politicized culture, which leaves little room for thought or activity not connected to ideology. The Conservateur is not so much a liberation from the platitudes of Cosmopolitan and its ilk as their mirror image. What about an aesthetic and cultural magazine, then, for people who wish beauty to take precedence above all else? For style mavens who don’t prefer their fashion content served with a side of propaganda? Must every creative sector bifurcate and balkanize, as no one can claim neutrality any longer, or even wants to? What about a Glamour for disgruntled leftists or libertarians?
The proliferation of new publications, no matter which faction they align with, is a good thing. American freedom of expression has always embraced plurality and overthrown dominion by one calcified clan. But this approach may be a dead end for fields like fashion whose primary focus was never supposed to be politics.
The philosopher Roger Scruton once remarked that “beauty is an ultimate value —something that we pursue for its own sake, and for the pursuit of which no further reason need be given.” Such an attitude was relatively common among creatives at the turn of the century, but as the 2010s progressed, a noxious kind of utilitarian urgency took over. The pressure that began to build on artists during the Trump era to make activists of themselves was met by some with fervent true belief, but by others with revulsion. A$AP Rocky, one of the most stylish rappers in the game and a frequent haunter of downtown Manhattan’s shop-filled corridors, responded at the time with a refreshing anti-authoritarianism. “They’re not forcing me to do shit … What the fuck am I, Al Sharpton now?” he said in 2015. “I’m A$AP Rocky. I did not sign up to be no political activist. I wanna talk about my motherfuckin’ lean, my best friend dying, girls, my jiggy fashion and my inspirations in drugs … I’m in the studio, I’m in fashion houses, I’m in these bitches’ drawers. I’m not doing anything outside of that. That’s my life. These people need to leave me the fuck alone.”
Indeed, the pursuit of art or aesthetic refinement used to be characterized by desire for excellence rather than compulsion to signal one’s ideological allegiances. Many people love fashion and beauty — the way a luxury fragrance interacts with the body, for example — because they exist in a realm beyond the reaches of punditry and analysis. The erotic allure of a fine fabric is sensual, not virtuous. There’s a reason Prada is worn by the devil.
Despite the groupthink defining creative industries, the number of people willing to think differently in public is growing. In a 2020 discussion on political conformity in the music and fashion worlds, Coleman Hughes asked stylist Ayishat Akanbi about her experiences questioning prevailing attitudes on race. “There’s very little to be gained if you plan on remaining in the art world to voicing these things. It seems like it’s all downside and no upside if you plan on staying in these spaces,” he said. “You’re not meant to question anything,” she replied. “Even I was like, ‘Can I do this? … Is this okay?’”
Similarly, Chinese contemporary artist and dissident Ai Weiwei warned in an interview with Margaret Hoover last year that Americans “are already in the authoritarian state. You just don’t know it.” “How so?” she asked, seemingly taken aback. “People trying to be unified in certain political correctness — that is very dangerous,” he responded.
It is political correctness that is responsible for the loss of aesthetic rigor now infecting fashion. Instead of the breathtaking beauty of once-in-a-lifetime models like Christy Turlington or Naomi Campbell being celebrated on pages and runways, the out-of-shape and the nondescript are given precedence. Legacy magazines also contribute greatly to the upholding of our Gilded Age status quo. For every fundraiser a Condé Nast editor attends with corporate politicians like Mayor Pete, there’s a talented young stylist in the hood or the hinterlands who can’t afford to take an unpaid internship. Current publishing maintains economic stasis and speaks of pop culture; a new vision of publishing should be economically populist and aesthetically elitist. It’s common for magazines (those that still even exist) to obfuscate their exclusion of working class perspectives with a display of how down-to-earth they are in their interests: See, we cover trashy lowbrow stuff like Korean boy bands and thongs that stick out of your pants! But a real refreshing of the cultural press would necessitate aggressive openness to artists who are economic outsiders and an unapologetic embrace of high culture.
The Guardian reported this month on the “huge decline of working class people in the arts” in the last forty years. According to the UK’s Office for National Statistics, only 7.9% of young adults in creative industries grew up in poverty or the lower middle class. This near total lack of background variation creates a paucity of perspective and a flatness of expression. Pressure to maintain status can lend itself to the repetition of political pieties that ensure acceptance. But it can feel good to have nothing to lose, and sometimes burning it all down leads to reinvigoration and freedom. There is no need for the politics espoused by cultural publications to be so uniform.
There are still some style magazines that have not been completely taken over by the grip of political indignation. The World of Interiors is a fine example. The public, so habituated to receiving the same subscriptions from the same dying sources, should demand truth, beauty, honesty and rigor once more and forsake the husk of what once was. An obsession with virtue can never replace the thrill of beholding a beautiful person; people will always crave pleasure and entertainment, and that’s a good thing. Fashion and art need not serve the Left or the Right but rather the desires of the audience and consumers for enjoyment, sensuality, and meaning. And a true conservative sensibility recognizes that some aspects of life — sex, aesthetics, friendship — are beyond the reach of politics.
Emma Collins is a writer based in Washington, D.C. You can find her at emmaecollins.substack.com and on Twitter at @emmacollinsfile.