The funny thing about being a lesbian in the lingerie industry is that it feels like a paradox: I see versions of myself everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It’s undeniable that female homoeroticism plays a part in so many lingerie editorials, both implicitly and explicitly, that it’s not difficult for me to find photographs featuring both luxury lingerie and women in sexually charged situations with other women. What are missing are voices to match these images or the acknowledgement that these images are not merely fantasies, but could reflect a reality, my reality.
This is an issue that exists everywhere, not only in lingerie and not only in fashion. But in fashion, this complete lack of a queer female perspective can seem even odder than it might in other areas considering the way so much of fashion is tinged with sexuality.
This recent shoot with Rihanna and Kate Moss for V Magazine is a perfect example of how the fashion industry views lesbianism — it’s about titillating the viewer, not about representing same-sex desire in a way that seems valid, relevant, or anything more than an act. And that lingerie plays a part in illustrating that this is a sexual situation means that in many ways it is the lingerie that is used as a kind of shorthand to create intimacy between the two women, even as they don’t even look at one another. All I can see is that my sexuality is frivolous — that it can be put on and taken off as easily as a piece of lingerie.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with showing off the sexy side of a same sex relationship — with lingerie, sex and intimacy are so often part of the equation. But when all you see are women as vibrant as mannequins, posing together “provocatively” the objectification of same-sex attraction cannot be ignored.
The lingerie industry is no worse (often better) than others-everyone I have interacted with has been nice and welcoming. So nice that usually when I point out places where there is particularly exclusionary language, they’ll apologize or change it. But it’s hard when I feel repeatedly forgotten — every time I’m the one who has to raise my hand and say, “But, but, not all women are wearing lingerie for male partners!” or “You can’t assume that women want male attention!” And each time I see the phrase “girlfriend” meaning a close female friend I remember that of course no one would confuse that person with your lover because the default is always “straight.”
And then, of course, lingerie-clad women posing together provocatively do have a presumed audience: men. This editorial in GQ is the epitome of what’s wrong with many “lesbian” lingerie editorials. Lesbian sexuality is a joke (the accompanying headline is: “Alison Brie and Gillian Jacobs Did This Lesbian Scene for Us”), it’s entertainment and it’s coerced for the pleasure of the (explicitly male) viewer.
It doesn’t feel great to feel like you’re either invisible or some sort of sex object. Visibility was the main reason I choose to go by “The Lingerie Lesbian” — it’s nice to have some place where I don’t have to explain that I don’t have a boyfriend, I have a girlfriend, and I’m more than happy about that. I may get a lot of porn searches that end up at my site, but I’m okay with that-if someone reads my blog and realizes I’m a real person, not a mythical creature, than I’m doing something right.
And my sexual identity is relevant to how I look at the world and the way I think about lingerie. Everywhere you look, lingerie, gender and sexuality are tied together and flow into each other. What you are wearing, how you want it to make you feel and who you want to share it with-these things are all part of understanding, appreciating and talking about lingerie.
Ellen von Unwerth for Chantal Thomass F/W 2012.