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Culture
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6 min read

London Fashion Week: unstitching the tension between designers and religion

Why couture turns churches into runways.
Two models stride along a catwalk of a fashion show held in a church
Orgamea, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

During London Fashion Week, galleries, warehouses, halls and factories transform into runways to showcase designers’ newest collections. But sometimes they choose a venue that would otherwise be unexpected for an industry-insider event- one of London’s many churches.

In some ways, the Christian chapel is a natural runway – a crowd cut in two with all eyes on a procession down the central aisle. A church wedding might be the most literal analogy- with the bridesmaids and wedding party as the models on a runway showcasing their fine gowns. But the reasons why a designer might choose a Christian venue go beyond a convenient space. 

A venue of smells, bells, fabrics and painting

The Christian Church has a rich history of materiality that other Western institutions would struggle to compete with. During the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the Church was the main proprietor of all artistic practice. Churches commissioned painters to beautify their walls and to illustrate biblical stories in the form of triptychs and altars. Textile workers embroidered intricate patterns onto clerical vestments, and metal workers and glass makers collaborated to craft stained glass windows. The Church and art were inseparable and for many, attending church was the only way you would see these human-crafted artistic wonders. 

Church history and art history are so intertwined that even in the present day, it’s hard to be in the creative industries without some awareness of it. 

That sense of materiality is a strong reference point for many who grew up attending more traditional Catholic, Anglican or Orthodox churches, but even for those whose experience with church might involve only the occasional tour of a beautiful church in Italy or Spain. Jean Paul Gaultier, a French haute couture designer, used Catholic iconography in his 2007 show at Paris Fashion week. Each model donned a halo crafted from materials ranging from the roses, metal, feathers, jewells, pearls, gold and yes- even stained glass. Some models carried what looked like hymnals, and a few were even wearing the image of Virgin Mary or Jesus printed onto a veil or fitted dress. 

Andrew Bolton, curator of the 2017 exhibit Heavenly Bodies at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, said “what we call the Catholic imagination” has “engaged artists and designers and shaped their approach to creativity.” Regardless of personal belief, Bolton believes “Beauty has often been a bridge between believers and unbelievers.” 

Beyond materiality, the history of Christianity has given us much of the language and concepts by which we think through some of life’s biggest questions. Even if you have never thought of yourself as religious, you will have come into contact with ideas of creation, sin, and redemption that come from the Christian Faith. 

At a fashion show, the designer is Creator and his models walk across the runway to showcase his creations. The crowd may be just as religiously devoted to him as church goers are to their god. A church is the natural venue for a designer who thinks himself worthy of that kind of attention. 

A church-made-runway is a symbol of designer as god- god of their own creations, their brand, and perhaps the future of fashion itself. By taking on religious iconography, designers become the centre of glory- at least for the 45 minute runtime of the show. 

Sometimes, like Gaultier, they feel inspired by the church’s rich iconography. At other times, like McQueen- they are upset at a world created by people who take advantage of power and use religion against others.

Subverting religious ideas 

But using the language of Christianity is often about more than co-opting it for a designer’s own glory. It’s often also about subverting the symbolism of religion - to make statements about the hypocrisy or limitations of religion on individuals. 

One of the most famous shows at London Fashion Week was the 1996 Alexander McQueen Dante at Christ Church in Spitalfields, East London. Based on the Christian-inspired Dante’s Divine Comedy, the collection featured a combination of photographs taken during the Vietnam war, bold takes on men’s tailoring, and black crucifiction-adorned eye masks borrowed from the work of photographer Joel-Peter Witkin. According to McQueen, “religion has caused every war in the world, which is why I showed it in a church.” Other more recent shows at churches include Dilara Findikoglu's show in 2018 at St. Andrew’s Holborn which dressed models in devil-inspired costumes and Julien McDonald’s show at Southwark Cathedral in 2019 which was heavily criticised for bringing revealing clothes into a sacred space. 

McQueen and other designers use their shows in churches to question its integrity. Many who have experienced hurt in the church or from Christians in their personal lives resonate with these fashion statements. 

Fashion’s subversion of religious ideas cuts to a core tension many of us experience. I have always felt drawn to Christian ideas. I love the idea that God created humans in his image to “do his handiwork.” Such creativity has fueled human endeavours as famous as Michel Angelo’s Sistine Chapel and as ordinary as my personal wardrobe. And that a loving heavenly Father sacrificed himself to redeem the world and restore creation-it is an extraordinary thought. 

At the same time, the history of the world, of Christians and of the church feels weighty. Christians have used religion to justify colonialism, racism, slavery, and a host of other atrocious acts of taking advantage over vulnerable people. In our personal lives, Christians we know may have acted in bad faith- as greedy, selfish and unkind in their dealings with others.   

And so, Fashion often encapsulates this duality of having both awe and anger at the church.

But we also know that Fashion isn’t an answer to these problems either. Powerful people in the fashion industry deal with the same temptations of greed and power that others do. The industry is fraught with its own problems of hypocrisy, of doing harm to the women they praise, to the earth whose materials they use, and the vulnerable whose labour they exploit. 

I work at an arts and fashion university, where I often see students creatively wrestle with ideas of life, death, faith and hope. Sometimes, like Gaultier, they feel inspired by the church’s rich iconography. At other times, like McQueen- they are upset at a world created by people who take advantage of power and use religion against others. It can be easy for those who come from faiths that are questioned in art to be outraged at this subversion- like many were with McQueen’s original show. 

In the novel I am Asher Lev by Jewish rabbi Chaim Potok, a young Hasidic boy in 1950s Brooklyn grapples with the limitations of his religious community as he realises his passion for art. A key moment comes when he realises that there is a difference between the “good” and the “beautiful.” His mentor Jacob tells him, 

“I do not sculpt and paint to make the world sacred. I sculpt and paint to give permanence to my feelings about how terrible the world truly is.”

An anthropologist by trade, I look at the work of Fashion designers who use and subvert Christian ideas as a culture grappling with faith in a post-religion world. Humans are unique in their ability to change culture through the things they make and the concepts that come out of them. As a Christian, that creativity, and that freedom to wrestle with life’s toughest questions, are both gifts from God. 

Faced with fashions that challenge the status quo or make people uncomfortable, I ask this- What questions is this designer asking? Do I have similar questions? And importantly- where can I start to find some answers?

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5 min read

The idolatry of Beyoncé: her tour hits town with eight golden calves in tow

We all desire to be perceived as more talented, confident and beautiful.

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

Beyonce marches along a stage catwalk as photographers stare from below.
Taking to the stage.
Beyoncé.com.

I suspect if you asked British millennial women to name their queen, more would say Beyoncé than Camilla Parker Bowles. Such is the allure and popularity of the woman who commands legions of fans, ‘the BeyHive’, and has been dubbed ‘Queen B’. Now this pop monarch is on the move and she’s brought her royal tour to London.  

Last night the Cowboy Carter tour lit up Tottenham Hotspur Stadium in an ostentatious display of stars, stripes and glitter. I joined the throngs of fans who packed out the arena to hear the hits from Beyoncé’s first country album, protected from the rain by only their sequin-lined cowboy hats. 

A massive screen provided video entertainment during costume changes. It depicted her two settings; siren and saviour. In some of the imagery Beyoncé was veiled or illuminated by bright white lights, in modern iconography that would previously have been reserved for the Blessed Virgin Mary. During her song Daughter, with lyrics: ‘Cleanse me, Holy Trinity’, she was backdropped by stained-glass church windows. 

Beyoncé is hardly the first to draw from the style of religion in her work (see: Madonna). But, when I came back from the bathroom, the performer was midway through her song Tyrant, riding a gold mechanical bull while surrounded by eight double-headed golden calves. That’s when I realised, we’re not even pretending this isn’t idolatry anymore. 

As a recovering addict (arguably the most extreme expression of idolatry), I am interested in the processes behind idol worship. I have spent weeks studying Aaron’s ill-fated decision to melt down gold jewellery into a calf at the request of the Israelites who thought Moses, and God, were taking too long up Mount Sinai, followed by the disastrous repetition of history under King Jeroboam I.

We take these cautionary tales and usually apply them to the metaphorical calves in our own lives, but still the golden calf endures as the ultimate symbol of idol worship. Would Beyoncé have known this? Almost certainly, given the other Christian imagery sprinkled throughout the show. 

The Queen 

For those only vaguely aware of Beyoncé, I’ll explain how the global obsession came about. She was raised by parents who were committed to her success. Her mum made all her costumes while her dad formed and managed the girl band Destiny’s Child, of which Beyoncé was the lead singer. She famously grew up honing her singing talent while on a treadmill to ensure that she would maintain her voice during energetic dances on stage.  

Destiny’s Child enjoyed a huge amount of success, even if their message of female empowerment was confused. They started with the expectation that a partner would pay their ‘bills, bills, bills’, then sung of their desire to ‘cater’ to their men, before a violent U-turn declaring themselves to be ‘independent women’. The mixed messaging didn’t put off their fans, but it was when Beyoncé teamed up with her now husband, Jay-Z, that she experienced a meteoric rise to fame and became the breakout solo artist from the band. 

She has experienced some scandal over her career, most notably in 2014 when CCTV footage was leaked of her sister Solange attacking her husband Jay-Z in a lift. It was rumoured that this was in response to his infidelity but no formal statement was made. Beyoncé, like our former Queen, lives by the mantra ‘never complain, never explain’. 

Over the years, as the record sales have grown, so has her cult-like status. ‘You have the same number of hours in the day as Beyoncé’ is used as a motivational tool (although I can’t say it’s ever worked on me). Some have even hi-jacked and modified the French national motto to: Liberté, Égalité, Beyoncé. Her allure is increasingly less about her music and more about what she embodies; the ability to seemingly have everything – motherhood, a stratospheric career and the dream face and body. 

The problem 

To be clear; I don’t think admiring Beyoncé or enjoying her music is a bad thing. I am the one who paid more than £200 to go and do just that. But, with a few notable exceptions, almost everything we idolise fundamentally has the capacity to be a force for good in our lives, if it’s kept in its right place. It’s the classic Christian cliché; don’t let a good thing become a God thing. Take food, exercise and your phone, these can all do immeasurable good in enhancing your quality of life, but when they become an idol, they can also do immeasurable harm. 

It is often said that we become what we worship. Well in the context of idolising Beyoncé many people would say that’s a fate they would happily welcome. But the reality is darker than that. 

What are we really saying when we idolise Beyoncé and bow down to her golden calves? I would suggest on the surface it’s a desire to be perceived as more talented, confident and beautiful. It’s the panic that we should be perfect, especially given that Beyoncé achieves that perfection in the same twenty-four daily hours that we have. It’s a deep longing to be desired as she is, to be popular as she is, to be regularly affirmed as she is. 

Let’s go deeper. Does God say that we need to have visible talent in order to be valuable? No. He says we are all a part of a body with our own unique skills that contribute to the entire organism. Some of those skills will be discrete and often overlooked by people, but that makes them no less valuable to God. Does God say we should be beautiful? No. Jesus wasn’t exceptionally physically attractive, as far as we know. If anything the Bible warns against putting stock in such a fleeting resource. Are we called to be confident in ourselves? No. But we are told that flourishing comes from a confidence in God. 

My fear is that if we chase visible talent, we will always feel that we are lacking and unrecognised. If we chase beauty, we will always feel ugly and if we chase Beyoncé-level confidence, we will always feel small. The idol that should theoretically inspire us to greater things, ends up leaving us feeling boxed in by unhelpful and unachievable goals. It leaves us caged by the comparison and always a step behind. 

Adding to the heartbreak, the thing that we’re emulating and idolising, is never as satiating as we believe it to be. Had I stormed the stage, I would have found those calves to be moulded from plastic and sprayed gold. Just as I would find the performer to be a bit tired and flawed like the rest of us. The reality is, even Beyoncé won’t live up to the idol of Beyoncé. While in contrast, the correct focus for our worship, Jesus, will only ever get better with closer inspection. 

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