As a nonbinary person, I have a natural interest in any “gender-neutral” or “androgynous” brand that comes across my Instagram feed. Every time a label promotes itself as genderless, I get excited - surely this means they will think past the bounds of gendered fashion, mess around with silhouettes, and play with our cultural expectations of what “men” and “women” should wear.
But more often than not, the “brand for every body” du jour is just another line of baggy basics in neutral colors, with plain t-shirts that inexplicably cost over $200.
I lament the sad beige-ification of “gender neutral” brands. When you claim to think past gendered limitations, you should be able to design more than a faded linen button-up and wide-leg selvedge jeans!
For some reason, many of these brands seem to think that genderless = shapeless. Silhouettes are big and boxy, with the apparent aim to hide any marker of gender on the body. They eschew traditional sartorial markers of gender, but don’t replace them, or otherwise innovate in the new space of genderless fashion. They just make things that are baggy and beige (or sometimes navy, mustard, or rust).
These brands seem to think that all us nonbinaries want to dress like Fred Durst with the Skims color palette. I know everything is fucked and everybody sucks, but can’t we still accentuate our waistlines along the way?
There are some staples of these uncreative gender-neutral brands that I would like to point out.
The T-Shirt Made Of Hoodie Material:
A large shirt that will make you look like a Roblox character. Often plain. Usually part of a SS collection, but sometimes seen in AW as well, because these garments are equally unsuited for every kind of weather. They’re too hot for t-shirt days and too cold for hoodie days. A baffling garment that makes me distrust a brand on sight.
The Worker’s Jumpsuit
I guess nonbinaries yearn for the mines because every gender-neutral brand has a zip-up worker’s jumpsuit. Usually offered in navy and olive green and MAYBE black. Why? I suppose jumpsuits are gender-neutral by nature. But the ones these brands put out are basically replicas of the ones you can find at the Army Surplus. Why gentrify a work garment without making it cuter?
The Big Linen Pants:
I can only hate on these ones but so much, because every pair of big swingy linen pants looks so, so comfortable. But they also look like pajamas. Why not just design pajamas? Also, they are almost always white, so I will never buy them, because I menstruate. Linen pants with a fun stripe or colorway would have my heart, but these brands are trapped within their neutral cages.
The Bomber Jacket:
Often short-sleeved, because apparently having cold arms is androgynous. The Bomber jacket is usually in navy blue, khaki, olive green, and maybe a light yellow or peach if the designer was feeling bold. If they’re cheeky they may use a contrasting thread, or white-on-beige color blocking.
Selvedge Denim:
Like the linen pants, I have nothing inherently against selvedge denim. It’s a good textile. But it seems like every single genderless brand has hinged their empire upon selvedge denim. If I have to read the words selvedge denim one more time I won’t be able to selvedge my sanity.
The Big Shorts:
They’re big. They’re baggy. They’re something you can make yourself out of a $3 pair of thrift store jeans. They might have a little leather tag on the back letting you know they were hand-dyed with seashells collected by the designer’s polycule on the Oregon coast or something.
Oddly, these brands seem to unintentionally replicate what a lot of trans and nonbinary people call “dysphoria style” - in which you wear large, baggy clothes to hide your body from yourself and seek external comfort when you’re feeling internal pain.
This encapsulates a lot of my problem with these brands; marketing body-masking clothing to nonbinary people implies that their natural body is inherently binary. That if your clothes don’t entirely hide your boobs, you are somehow participating in the binary. That if someone can tell you’re tucking underneath your selvedge denim, you have failed at nonbinaryhood in some way. Cover your body. Hide it. Make it a mystery clothed in khaki. Genderless couture has no room for hips, for a waistline, for creativity.
These clothing lines feel shame-based, a pursuit of palatable androgyny that scares no one and makes no statement, a cosplay of a perfectly smoothened genderless being who wants to hide their birth gender more than they want to express themselves.
I don’t know any nonbinary people who are like that.
I must also point out that many of these styles are meant to hang baggily and boxily on thin nonbinary people. Many brands did not offer sizes above an XL and only featured willowy, elf-like models on whom most clothing would be boxy and baggy.
These brands show us what they believe a nonbinary person wants, believes in, and chooses: bland, thin androgyny. At a certain point, I suspect that many of these designers use the “gender neutral” label not out of personal passion or conviction, but because it will get their designs more attention online. Their main goal is not to make us feel confident and comfortable. They want our money.
With all that said, there are always exceptions. I found quite a few brands who are doing a great job with their gender fuckery.
Big Bud Press is a fun, unique brand that’s truly size-inclusive. They have bright colors, fun prints, and designs that are meant to flatter and show off your body instead of masking it. They focus on the act of creating quality clothes rather than designing for a gender or trend. If you like vibrant basics and no-nonsense style that still flatters, check out Big Bud.
Kirrin Finch proves that gender-neutral style does not have to ignore the long history of gendered fashion. This menswear-inspired brand produces colorful, fun suits, jackets, and blazers for every body. They come in fun colors, with interesting prints, and cute details that add a personal touch to each garment.
Official Rebrand is one of my favorite brands that I discovered while researching for this article. While many genderless labels attempt sustainability by using organic dyes and natural pigments, Official Rebrand takes items from the thrift store and gives them a new life. It’s edgy but sincere, shabby but striking. The garments here feel designed by someone who is passionately entrenched in the queer fashion community and deeply creative.
Menagerie Lingerie, like Kirrin Finch, does not pretend to be wholly genderless. This lingerie brand takes classic lingerie elements like lace, boning, garters, and corset silhouettes, and reimagines them for male bodies. I absolutely adore their designs and the ethos, in which they make slinky, lacy lingerie flattering and accessible for more bodies than ever before.
Life On Mars is an out-and-proud clothing company by and for trans and nonbinary people. The line is a vehicle for designer Mars Wright’s bold psychedelic patterns and prints. They’re loud, brash, fun, and unashamed! This brand takes trans joy and turns it into the kind of button-up that will get you compliments on the street.
Lastly, my favorite place to get big, boxy clothes (because I do partake in the aesthetic once in a while), is the thrift store. Many of the brands I am frustrated with tout themselves as eco-friendly because they use organic dye, or free trade labor from all their friends in the PNW, or because they use American-grown cotton. All those things are well and good, but at the end of the day, you’re still buying a new piece of clothing. If sustainability and oversized button-downs are your jam, seriously, check out a thrift store.
I think we’ve reached a critical mass of unchic genderless brands. Every other ad on my Instagram feed is some Xanax-eyed mildly-androgynous teen staring me down in a navy blue polo shirt that looks exactly like every other navy blue polo shirt I’ve ever seen. We deserve creativity. We deserve passion. We deserve waistlines.
We deserve better.
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