Beyond wondering if they're clashing, you probably don't give much thought to the patterns you're wearing. But did you know that your polka-dot blouse is the same print that a group of dancers in the '60s chose to protest Wall Street funding for the Vietnam War? Or that plaid first became cool (instead of just there) when it was banned in 18th-century England? Stories like these fill the pages of Jude Stewart’s Patternalia: An Unconventional History of Polka Dots, Stripes, Plaid, Camouflage, & Other Graphic Patterns — a new book about the many patterns we encounter every day, but probably know little about. Blending history, culture, fashion, fairy tales, math, and science, Stewart shows how patterns aren't only designs, but also symbols packed with politics.
Stewart — who likes to wear stripes, but also has a penchant for black-and-white checkerboard — found that prints are actually an effective tool for political mobilization: “Patterns help unify a group, and they also help you know who’s in [it] and who’s out.” What does it say when a person wears patterns for political reasons? “It says they probably want to have a conversation about politics, or maybe a fight. It’s sort of like wearing a button that says, ‘Ask me about abortion rights,’” she says. “If you’re gonna wear a pattern that has political resonance, just be ready for the conversation you’re going to start by wearing it.”
Fleur-De-Lis
You might associate the fleur-de-lis pattern with the kind of wallpaper a Real Housewives star may pick for her walk-in closet. But the print has a darker past than expected. An ancient symbol adopted centuries ago by the French, fleur-de-lis was featured in the monarchy’s royal coat of arms in 1376, and became — as Stewart describes it in Patternalia — “the first blockbuster logo.”
But fleur-de-lis wasn’t just about keeping up appearances; it was also about reinforcing and boasting power, and was used to mark “hardened criminals, slaves, and anyone controlled by the French state.” That included slaves in French colonies overseas, who were branded with the pattern if they tried to flee. Despite the symbol's sinister history, fleur-de-lis appear today on flags of U.S. cities founded by the French, like New Orleans and Baton Rouge.
Camouflage
Camouflage = war; that fact is well-known. Rooted in the military, and used to conceal army equipment before it covered soldiers’ uniforms, camouflage has typically been used for hiding. But it’s also become “a way of being militant,” Stewart says. “Camouflage lets you know who’s on your team and who’s not.”
Members of the group Vietnam Veterans Against the War have donned camouflage ironically since forming in 1967, while armies of camo brides dedicate Pinterest pages to khaki wedding dresses, lending questionable ammo to gun rights and hunting debates. Artists like Liu Bolin and Desiree Palmen use camouflage more quietly, to vanish into the landscapes of their respective work — and, in Bolin’s case, comment on how totalitarianism and capitalism can destroy individualism. Then there are celebs like Rihanna, who demand attention when they wear head-to-toe camo. “It’s funny,” Stewart says. “This pattern that’s intended to be invisible can also speak so loudly.”
Tartan
“The story of tartan begins with the ban of 1746 to 1782,” Stewart says, referring to England’s plaid prohibition that forbid men (women and members of the military were excluded) from wearing tartan under the Disarming Act, brought about by Scottish and English conflict. “That was the time when everybody really got heated up and excited about tartan,” Stewart says. “You couldn’t get it and couldn’t wear it freely.” To wear tartan back then “was like a market privilege.”
In the 1970s, the Ugandan dictator Idi Amin — who believed that Uganda and Scotland were tied because both were ruled by the British — was obsessed with tartan, and called himself "the uncrowned king of Scotland." He even made his troops wear kilts once. Meanwhile, Britain’s punk kids appropriated tartan, and turned “every Establishment England signifier they could find” on its head.
Dogtooth
The keffiyeh — a headscarf adorned with a dogtooth pattern and primarily worn by Arab men — became an emblem of Palestinian identity in the 1930s, when rebels who opposed the Jewish immigration of the British Mandate donned the scarves to identify each other. Some 30 years later, Palestine Liberation Organization chairman and Fatah leader Yasser Arafat made an impression by wearing a keffiyeh, but it was nothing like the one made by Leila Khaled — a fighter for the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine known for hijacking planes. Khaled’s striking eyes and pixie haircut made the keffiyeh sexy in the 1970s.
The keffiyeh's pop appeal traveled to the U.S. in 2007, when it started being sold at Urban Outfitters. A Dunkin’ Donuts ad starring Rachael Ray was even banned because she was wearing a scarf that closely resembled a keffiyeh (but wasn't). “When you get into patterns that are really close to hot-button topics, then you’re dealing with a loaded gun,” Stewart says. “I’m on the side of being aware of what you wear.”
Polka Dots
Yes, even the innocent polka dot has dabbled in politics. In 1968, artist Yayoi Kusama spray-painted polka dots on nude dancers in a performance piece outside the New York Stock Exchange, to protest Wall Street funding for the Vietnam War. In the same year, "the girl in the polka-dot dress " aroused conspiracy theories about Robert F. Kennedy’s assassination. “She was a young woman and she was dressed like anybody would dress,” Stewart says, “and certainly not dressed to assassinate someone.” Don't mess with women in polka dots, we guess?!
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
'Power,' 'Woke,' & More Of The Most-Used Words In Fashion