Revisiting “Dear Politicians,” by Nathan Adkisson
In October 2006, three Northwestern students sat in Pick-Staiger Concert Hall and created STITCH magazine. Six months later, a 30-page issue full of kitschy early 2000s motifs and niche fashion jokes was released to the public. In The Last Word, a section reserved for an especially poignant piece, Nathan Adkisson, one of the founders, took a shallow dive into the world of political fashion, criticizing women politicians for their appearances and suggesting value on The Hill lies in wearing miniskirts.
“Women candidates: you have to know that sex sells. You will never win the top spot in the White House until you embrace your femininity and at least try to be hot. Okay, Nancy Pelosi, we know that’s a stretch, but don’t you have a daughter? Just because the men wear suits doesn’t mean you have to. We let you wear pants, and now we think even that was a bad idea. The miniskirt was invented for a reason. Gianni Versace is rolling over in his grave,” Adkisson wrote.
On our crystal anniversary, it's important to celebrate. For 15 years of back-and-forth with the printing company, staying up late to edit articles and designing and redesigning spreads, we deserve a few confetti tosses and maybe an extravagant cake or two. But as we look to the future of our publication, we must also look back. Reflecting on how we have caused harm and to whom is equally as important as breaking out the streamers and balloons.
As I flipped through our first issue from Spring 2007, I was amused by the sophomoric photoshoots and the out-of-touch fashion spread recommending a $248 Lula clutch and $798 Gustto bag. When I reached the last page, I was no longer smiling. Opening the piece with a bang, Adkisson suggested more grad students should run for the House of Representatives so that girls in miniskirts would be walking around the Capitol.
As the piece continued, Adkisson insisted politicians should buy flowered swimsuits for the campaign trail and “get their bloated selves” to a Sunglasses Hut. Offensive, yes, but also bold to assume a candidate for the U.S. Senate walking the streets in a Billabong two piece would be fashion forward instead of questionable.
Alas, in the fashion world, you have to be willing to allow for growth. If we annuled our relationship with every publication, designer and model who made discriminatory remarks or invoked bigoted stereotypes, there would be few fashion experts left. So what does Adkisson have to say about his piece 15 years later?
“I'm appalled and embarrassed. Reading it now, it sounds so tone deaf and it's really terrible. The intent was for that back page to be snarky humor, edgy, and in those days, it seemed like that might be okay and that might be appropriate. But when I read it now, it's disgusting, and I can’t stand by it,” Adkisson says.
As a creative director for the experience design studio Local Projects developing immersive museums, Adkisson remains in the realm of high culture, which has undergone drastic changes in the past decade and a half. What would once have passed as edgy humor and opinionated jabs is now regarded as what it is, an article propped up by cheap sexist shots.
It’s beneficial for our society as a whole that those working in fashion have begun to think more critically about who is affected by the persistent use of stereotypes. But past mistakes don’t only remain in the past; they discreetly pervade and reinforce the foundation of systemic issues today. Adkisson , for one, is cognizant of his part in upholding some of the social issues he says he’s involved in protesting today.
“I don't think the space of time makes it okay. I think that the space of time can give context, but it still doesn't make it okay. So I think what's happened is that our lenses have been sharpened, and I certainly know I'm not the only one who's made mistakes like this, I think many of us have,” he said. “Maybe it takes not just seeing a mistake that someone else made, but that you made yourself, to really realize how systemic and cultural views like that can be and how much they need to change.”
It would be easy to let Adkisson’s piece disappear into the void of old magazine issues with oversaturated covers and outrageous fashion recommendations. But Adkisson was one of the founders of STITCH, and thus STITCH is foundationally rooted in discrimination. Throughout our 15 years, STITCH hasn’t always done an amazing job at including and catering to students outside of the exclusive bubble we were established in. History is inescapable, even for a young magazine like ours.
STITCH isn’t alone in having an ugly history of disguising discrimination as fashion criticism. Sexism and fatphobia, alongside issues of pervasive racism and classism, are intertwined with the rise of most of the biggest names in the realm of fashion media.Elle Magazine faced controversy for lightening the skin of models in the magazine, Cosmopolitan Philippines photoshopped Riverdale stars to look thinner, and Vogue admitted to a “hurtful and intolerant” culture that didn’t allow adequate space for Black artists.
As we continue to grow as a publication, these are things we are considering. What parts of the world of culture and fashion do we want to embrace, and what parts do we have to consciously critique and abandon? Acknowledging who we were and how our staff allowed such an article to be published is how we can work through this and begin to repair the disconnect with parts of the Northwestern community.
When we blow out our candles (in a COVID-safe way, of course), Adkisson’s piece doesn’t disappear into the darkness. Instead, it's fuel to push beyond the tempting conformity and exclusivity of celebrity fashion and beauty tips that cover the pages of the biggest fashion magazines.
Since 2007, a lot has changed in terms of political correctness and what would fly in the editorial section of a print magazine. What hasn’t changed is the rigidity of gender stereotypes –– why there is still an unspoken rule that professional women have to wear pants; why many highschool girls have to follow strict dress codes; why the price of women politicians’ outfits are so heavily scrutinized.
Though Vogue and others have more recently allowed for more sexual and gender ambiguity, making Harry Styles the first solo male cover star, the industry has yet to break the glass ceiling and create an androgynous, liberated utopia. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done on the homefront, creating more space for people and culture that do not fit the heavily-gendered, racially monochrome, physically thin mold.
In the spirit of STITCH, I have a few last words on Adkisson’s Last Word. I hope that any politician can wear a miniskirt on The Hill, but because of their own desire, not because a misinformed columnist told them it would look hot. I hope that politicians have the freedom to explore fashion on their own terms, and that the broad appeal of their clothing isn’t a measure of their success. I hope that STITCH helps to push the needle and cover more ideas that contradict stereotypes and allow for a more liberated fashion world.
Some of that work starts here, right now, as we toss the confetti and celebrate 15 years.