Around 1915, the American poet Gertrude Stein was walking in Paris with her friend Pablo Picasso when the first camouflaged military truck drove by. Upon seeing the vehicle’s abstract, disorientating paintwork, Picasso exclaimed, “That is cubism!”
Although camouflage is as old as war itself, the characteristic patterns we are familiar with today are a relatively recent invention, developed during the First World War as a response to the improved accuracy of cannons and the appearance of military aircraft. And whether or not the Picasso story is just a myth, the connection between modern art and military camouflage is true. Cubism, vorticism and other early-20th-century art movements were aiming for the same things that camouflage artists were: a distortion of forms and shapes, as if one object is transforming or disappearing into the next. Naturally, as artists became more adept at the techniques of concealment and confusion, the army’s interest in them increased, with notable figures such as the painters Paul Klee and André Mare, as well as the fashion designer Bill Blass, being recruited as camoufleurs during the big wars of the 20th century.
Of course staying unseen on the battlefield is one of the few things that can keep a soldier alive. So when designing a uniform’s camouflage pattern, a lot of factors are taken into account, such as the prominent colours of the terrain, the weather conditions in a region, the morphology of the ground, etc. Soldiers deployed in the desert naturally need a different uniform from those stationed in a tropical jungle. For reasons that still remain unclear, however, the US military decided in 2004 to introduce the Universal Camouflage Pattern, a design that took several years and around $5 billion to be developed. The aim was to develop a pattern that would be suitable for all terrains and types of land. The project failed, and the uniforms were withdrawn after a few years.
The latest development in camouflage design is the CADPAT, an impressive pixelated pattern developed by the Canadian military that is computer generated in order to render the wearer less visible to night-vision devices.
Camouflage and death are interconnected concepts, since in addition to its military use, camo is also a necessary part of that other deadly human activity: hunting. For some an exhilarating outdoors sport, for others a brutal and unnecessary crime, hunting animals out in the wild requires similar camouflage techniques to those of war, because he who goes undetected has a deadly privilege: the advantage of moving and acting unnoticed. The hunter is lethal because he is invisible. It is socially acceptable for humans to go out in nature and kill animals on a whim, and the hunter, because of his lethal power and control over nature, is a symbol imbued with erotic appeal and masculine authority. Therefore, it is understandable that young urbanites like dressing up in camo. It makes one appear a predator, the one with the licence to kill and the liberty to chase, bring down and even torture his victim without asking for permission. He’s the one at the top of the food chain – the king of the jungle.
The camouflage pattern (usually in green, khaki or brown) has thus become a staple reference in contemporary fashion, from authentic military uniforms found in second-hand shops to expensive haute couture creations seen on the most prestigious runways of Paris and New York. In fact, camo has seen a spectacular comeback in recent years, starting with the SS13 collection of Dries Van Noten, followed by Michael Kors and his black-blue patterns for his AW13/14 collection, and more recently, in the pre-SS14 collection of Givenchy by Riccardo Tisci. The comings and goings of camo in fashion aren’t random, but they are connected to broader social and economic events. Just as when in tough economic times designers and brands go for sexier, more flashy looks in order to boost sales, during the periods when hope and social change are needed, designers adopt the “rebellion look” and bring camo back on the runway, usually as a direct reference to the grunge fashion of the 1980s and 90s.
However, unlike the grunge movement, where military uniforms found in thrift shops were worn because they were the exact opposite of the polished, glamorous fashion worn by the elite, whenever camo appears on the runway it is by default turned into something glamorous itself. In that sense, using the patterns of military uniforms in fashion is a case of cultural appropriation, where a cultural trait that has a certain significance in a particular subculture is being used in a decorative and superficial way by another. In other words, the rich like to dress up like soldiers and punk squatters from time to time, but without compromising their glam and status.
Moreover, camo patterns in fashion are not intended to conceal or hide anything, but are instead used to make someone conspicuous, to draw attention. This is of course because our city landscapes have visually nothing in common with the wilderness, where hunters stalk their prey, or the battlefield where soldiers need to conceal themselves in order to protect their lives. Camouflage patterns and military attire are completely out of place in city life. As a result, in a shocking, if not cynical way, wearing camouflage brings into the urban the imagery, the colours, and even the emotional impact of war. Think, for example, of the camouflage evening dress from the SS00 collection of Jean Paul Gaultier, which looked like a desert-army tent made from hundreds of tulle ruffles. The dress mashes together the image of a high-class party at a Parisian penthouse with that of siege cannons blasting a Syrian village.
We sometimes forget that the economy that feeds and sustains our urban cultures (including our consumerist lifestyles, our parties and the haute couture we wear at them) depends primarily on the military and the institutionalised, socially acceptable violence it applies. Yet, in a way, culture is a mirror of who we are, and fashion has the fascinating power to flatten all its symbols into one shallow surface. Thus, war ironically joins the penthouse party, revealing itself to be just another sport, another kind of hunting. It’s a pity someone has to die for our champagne, but that’s just how life is. Besides, this is a jungle we are all living in.
Moreover, camo patterns in fashion are not intended to conceal or hide anything, but are instead used to make someone conspicuous, to draw attention. This is of course because our city landscapes have visually nothing in common with the wilderness, where hunters stalk their prey, or the battlefield where soldiers need to conceal themselves in order to protect their lives. Camouflage patterns and military attire are completely out of place in city life. As a result, in a shocking, if not cynical way, wearing camouflage brings into the urban the imagery, the colours, and even the emotional impact of war. Think, for example, of the camouflage evening dress from the SS00 collection of Jean Paul Gaultier, which looked like a desert-army tent made from hundreds of tulle ruffles. The dress mashes together the image of a high-class party at a Parisian penthouse with that of siege cannons blasting a Syrian village.
We sometimes forget that the economy that feeds and sustains our urban cultures (including our consumerist lifestyles, our parties and the haute couture we wear at them) depends primarily on the military and the institutionalised, socially acceptable violence it applies. Yet, in a way, culture is a mirror of who we are, and fashion has the fascinating power to flatten all its symbols into one shallow surface. Thus, war ironically joins the penthouse party, revealing itself to be just another sport, another kind of hunting. It’s a pity someone has to die for our champagne, but that’s just how life is. Besides, this is a jungle we are all living in..
Credits: Words by Kiriakos Spirou.
Links: Dries Van Noten, Prada, Michael Kors, Givenchy, Jean Paul Gaultier