Fashion's Alt-Right Flirtation
Is it possible to co-opt the aesthetics of extremism without also espousing its ideology?
American fashion is currently facing the same identity crisis many hyper-online edgelords found themselves in eight years ago as the line between ironic versus authentic endorsement continues to blur beyond all recognition. Much like how Pepe the Frog helped make alt-right ideals more palatable to the masses that ushered Trump into office in 2016, fashion brands and celebrities are likewise dabbling in the visual motifs of fringe Republicanism as a means of outrage baiting themselves into becoming the internet’s main character du jour. But this flirtation with the alt-right for attention raises the question: When does the adoption of conservative aesthetics turn from PR stunt to actual politics? And is it even possible to have one without promoting the other?
In My First Book, Dimes Square author Honor Levy perfectly demonstrates how this type of sarcastic embrace of the alt-right can become a double-edged sword in her discussion of the origin of the word “based.” The word originally entered the zeitgeist in the 2010s thanks to rapper Lil B, aka The BasedGod, who is best known for following back everyone who followed him on Twitter. According to Levy, for Lil B, “Being based was a lifestyle that involved radical tolerance of others and revolt against societal rules and expectations.” The word was then co-opted by the forums of 4chan where it became “based and redpilled” and was used specifically to endorse anything anti-”woke” and especially controversial. But today, as Levy writes, “Based does not have to mean right-wing…It’s a way of saying ‘cool’ or ‘I agree’ in a language of a ‘right-wing’ social group. But they do not own this language; nobody does. Based means different, and in our home-made cyber echo chambers, to lean toward the right has become an act of radicalism.”
Through the internet’s repeated usage of this now explicitly right-wing word, Levy argues it has become completely divorced from that definition, thus neutralizing its vitriol and returning “based” to its wholesome Lil B origins. But at the same time, she admits that its very popularity is in part due to the fact that it acts as a sort of Trojan Horse of redpilled-ness. The word once again presents as neutral, but to those in the know serves as a dog whistle of your own simmering right-leaning “radicalism.”
This summer, a similar mindset seems to have led every NYC cool girl influencer to post photos with guns, aestheticizing firearms as the new must-have accessory rather than a deadly weapon. Think Lana Del Rey posing with her glock in a delicate nightgown after the Grammys. As Emily Sundberg wrote of the micro trend in her newsletter Feed Me in July, “These photos are clearly signaling something — a combination of ruggedness, naughtiness, being in on a joke with MAGA dudes, and playing provocation with one’s audience.” They attempt to turn the gun from murderous to Americana pastiche. The firearm is rendered camp. Not an easy feat in a country uniquely known for its epidemic of gun violence. Via this trend the pistol becomes nothing more than a prop meant to underscore the subversive edginess of the (typically urbanite, typically white) woman luridly posing alongside it. The NRA couldn’t have dreamed up a better propaganda campaign.
Following Trump’s election in 2016, we saw similar existential debates play out over where to draw the line during those unprecedented times between conducting business as usual and becoming complicit in perpetuating Trump’s authoritarian ideals. There was the media’s constant refrain not to “normalize” what was happening in the White House, while networks simultaneously deluged their viewers with fear-mongering content on the subject in response to sky-high ratings. Or the debate amongst fashion designers like Diane von Furstenberg, Marc Jacobs, and Thom Browne as to whether or not dressing then First Lady Melania Trump was a patriotic duty or a tacit endorsement of the administration. When does clothing political figures go from just doing your job to becoming the next Hugo Boss? And what is a fashion brand’s responsibility to the continued survival of the republic?
This topic has also recently come to a head thanks to Kanye West who, ever the trendsetter, unfortunately, was a harbinger of this cultural sea change towards conservatism as subversive act, proudly announcing himself as a Trump supporter back in 2016. Following this endorsement of all things MAGA, West then went on to gleefully strain every working relationship he had in favor of espousing Nazism. A stark shift towards fascist ideology that West and his ilk have tried to rebrand as some sort of truth-telling, countercultural act of rebellion. One that has now forced fans and customers alike to decide whether or not they can truly separate the art from the artist.
After some particularly anti-Semitic statements at the end of last year, West issued a public apology to the Jewish community roughly a month before the release of his album Vultures, writing, “I deeply regret any pain I may have caused. I am committed to starting with myself and learning from this experience to ensure greater sensitivity and understanding in the future. Your forgiveness is important to me, and I am committed to making amends and promoting unity.” However, he has also since been photographed wearing a Burzum t-shirt, the black metal music project founded by Varg Vikernes, a convicted murderer, church arsonist, and self-proclaimed leader of the Norwegian neo-Nazi organization Heathen Front.
Since being embraced by alt-right figures such as Sandy Hook shooting conspiracy theorist Alex Jones, former Breitbart editor Milo Yiannopoulos, and white supremacist Nick Fuentes, West has also repeatedly demonstrated the way that fashion can be used to promote conservative values, both explicitly and implicitly. There were the “White Lives Matter” t-shirts he and conservative political commentator Candace Owens wore to his Yeezy Paris Fashion Week show in 2022, which did exactly what they were intended to do — drum up a ton of outrage and headlines that only served to put the duo’s Christo-fascist opinions in front of millions of new eyeballs. But even before that overtly racist fashion statement, West was already appropriating a new heartland aesthetic after moving from Calabasas, California to Cody, Wyoming, dressing exclusively in camo-print and neon orange apparel found at the local farm supply store. West was cosplaying the “authentic” rural American experience before attempting to transition that common man persona into a Trump-style political outsider presidential bid. Musician and West-collaborator Jack Donoghue has undergone a similar fashion makeover in recent years that led many on social media to accuse him of LARPing blue collar due to his new uniform of trucker hats and Goodwill t-shirts despite being an enormously successful and influential producer. These fashion statements feel not dissimilar to the way every TikTok lothario now has a Bass Pro Shop hat permanently affixed to their head. A supposedly tongue-in-cheek reclamation of a Midwest staple that has now become a whole new type of conservative douche signifier.
Unsurprisingly, a handful of high-profile people have also embraced these rightwing signifiers in Kanye’s wake, like his fashion protege Mowalola Ogunlesi who recently reposted a photo to her Instagram Stories of Nettspend collaborator CJ Luna wearing one of her brand’s t-shirts with a MAGA hat. The Nigerian-British designer later clarified on Twitter that she reposted the hat not as an endorsement of the Republican presidential nominee, but because it’s “mad cute” and she’s “tryna tap in with his graphic designer fr.” She added, “I don’t think I’d collab with Trump. But I fucking love that hat.” Co-opting the aesthetics of MAGA is very much par for the rage bait course for Ogunlesi who has also previously courted controversy as a means of raising her brand’s profile. Her Spring 2024 runway collection, at which West happened to be sitting in the front row, was called out for glamorizing violence against women, with models sporting black eyes, stitches, and wounds. It also sparked outrage over a t-shirt that read “4 Slim People” — a dig at the late, famously fatphobic Chanel designer Karl Lagerfeld — as well as a miniskirt made from the Saudi Arabian flag which features the Islamic Shahada making the flag a holy object. Ogunlesi’s initial response to the backlash was to tweet (then delete), “cry me a river” and “A mini skirt being an act of war in 2023 is so dystopian.” However, she would go on to issue a formal apology, thanking her fans for “holding [her] accountable.”
And while we may officially be in the midst of the year of brat, even Charli XCX isn’t immune to the allure of an alt-right poster girl. The pop star revealed to The Face in February that her song “Mean Girls” was inspired by the controversial Red Scare podcast host Dasha Nekrasova and a general fascination with “succubus-looking, dead-eyed women.” (Charli went on to tell Rolling Stone that Red Scare’s politics do not interest her.) Nekrasova — who Levy also thanks in the acknowledgments of her book — later confirmed her newfound muse status on her podcast, saying, “It’s a great song. She sent it to me a couple of months ago and told me about it. It speaks to an idea people maybe have about me as like a naughty downtown and noisy party girl.”
A party girl who had Alex Jones on her podcast in 2021, sold merch designed to look like the flag of the Islamic State, and most recently was photographed shooting a target dressed in a bomb vest and Palestinian keffiyeh. She then went on to retweet those images, writing (and then deleting), “Umm thats [sic] not a ‘Palestinian’ thats [sic] a murderous jihadist…very insensitive to conflate the two.” Nekrasova, unsurprisingly, is also a big fan of MAGA. This summer, she revealed on Glenn Greenwald’s Rumble show, System Update, "I genuinely do love Donald Trump for, like, the way he makes me feel. I did watch some of the RNC, I found it pretty electrifying…Yeah, I just love Donald Trump." And in September, Nekrasova finally got to meet her celebrity crush, posting an Instagram Story where she and Red Scare co-host Anna Khachiyan invite Trump on their show and he seems genuinely interested telling them to get in touch with his people.
As the enfant terrible of podcasting told the Yale Political Union last year, “extremism is sexy.” An attitude that certainly explains Red Scare’s recent interview of “America’s most unpopular pundit” Steve Sailer, the founder of the Human Biodiversity Institute which The Southern Poverty Law Center calls, “a neo-eugenics online discussion forum where right-wing journalists and race scientists have promoted selective breeding of the human species.”
And what does the official “Mean Girl” of brat summer wear while espousing climate change denialism and using the R-slur liberally? Why, Elena Velez, of course. A woman who has been dubbed “the Donald Trump of emerging designers” and “fashion’s problematic fave.” Because despite her inflammatory stances on cultural issues, Velez has also been heavily lauded by the industry, winning American Emerging Designer of the Year at the 2022 Council of Fashion Designers of America Awards, being inducted as a member of the CFDA in 2023, and being named a semi-finalist in the 2024 LVMH Prize. But her recent Fall 2024 collection was widely criticized for taking inspiration from the 1936 novel Gone With the Wind, a book as well known for its glamorization of the Antebellum South as its abhorrent racial stereotypes. In other words, a rich text for Velez, a creative fellow of the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism, a group founded in 2021 that campaigns against diversity and inclusion programs, ethnic studies curricula, and antiracism initiatives that it refers to as "critical race theory." The designer told The Free Press of the media fallout after the show, “What’s exciting is to create a postmodern fashion brand, a post-woke fashion brand, a post-beauty fashion brand. And right now, it’s rubbing up against some really sensitive walls…We live in a time when everything is possible and nothing is allowed. I think the only way to be punk in 2024 is to have a component of dissent.” And in 2024, clearly, the definition of punk dissent has become pedaling bigotry… ironically, of course.
This strategy of intentional provocation appears to be catching on more widely amongst indie brands regardless of their or their customers’ place on the political spectrum. Like the Los Angeles-based label Praying who teased on Instagram this summer the release of a MAGA red zip-up sweatshirt with the words “MELANIA TRUMP” printed in white across the chest. The post was instantly divisive, eliciting responses from both those desperate to buy it as well as those disgusted that it was made to begin with and vowing to never shop there again. Though many of Praying’s followers were surprised such a youth-focused, seemingly open-minded brand would dabble in conservative politics, even sardonically, the label has very much built a name for itself using these same antagonistic tactics. For example, Praying’s “Holy Trinity” bikini, which features the words “Father,” “Son,” and “Holy Spirit” printed across the wearer’s chest and groin, helped put them on the map after a number of Christian groups took offense to this sacrilegious garment leading to an instant best-seller for the brand.
While clearly this edgelord material is an extremely successful business strategy, it remains unclear what exactly is transgressive about promoting regressive ideas. All of the figures above posit their embrace of these conservative signifiers and, in many cases, ideals as being an act of dissent and rebellion against the liberal status quo. These alt-right trappings are often framed as just another inside joke at the Republican’s expense, except no one seems to be laughing. It’s not punk rock, it’s just unscrupulous, apathetic marketing that believes the proliferation of this rhetoric and imagery has no real-life ramifications.
Of course, as the last eight years have taught us, any genuine critique of these types of rightwing antics is immediately met with taunts of “triggered.” A word that at this point is as overused and completely devoid of meaning as “woke,” a vague catchall for liberalism that defines no one’s actual politics. Are we triggered by this fashion? Or are we just bored of having to explain the basics of the Golden Rule over and over again to disingenuous grifters who don’t give a shit about anything but cultivating their own infamy? All this behavior does is communicate both how starved for attention the perpetrator is and their lack of connection to the communities this “sexy extremism” actually harms. Are we triggered? Or do some of us just recognize this ironic, disaffected PR strategy for what it actually is — the same old boring white supremacy tied up in a pretty bow.
Thanks for reading! I feel like I could’ve written about this topic for a million years and still not have said all that needs to be said. There are so many examples and details I had to cut for brevity and clarity’s sake. But I hope you enjoyed it as much as a treatise on neo-nazis can be enjoyed! I also found out yesterday that The Hole Debate I’m in on Thursday will be livestreamed on Substack, so I’ll see y’all there to chat intimate waxing. Otherwise, I’ll be back on Friday with the goods. <3
Probably the most important thing I’ve read from this newsletter even though no mirkins were discussed. Bravo and thanks for calling out this right-wing cosplay as the bullshit it is. Now is not the time to treat this stuff as a joke.
sharon needles type shit. great read, thank you!