Gothic Charm School (12 page)

Other things potential Goth roommates should ask each other? Oh, the usual run-down: likes, dislikes, sexual orientation (just so there are no surprises), vegetarian or not, and so on. Do
be sure to talk about pets with about-to-be-housemates; it's only fair to people who have allergies or, in the case of more unusual pets, phobias. In other words, don't assume that everyone will be as fond of your pet tarantula or snake as you are.

Cliché. If you spend any time at all in the Goth subculture, you will hear that term thrown about, and it is almost never meant in a kind way. Having someone call you a cliché can be a bit mortifying, partially because “cliché” has a pervasive undercurrent of bad pantomime about it. Whoever throws the term around probably feels that you are more than faintly ridiculous. That you've gone right past the black velvet horizon and are slinking toward bad parody.

Let's look at the definition for cliché, shall we?

Cliché

•   A trite, stereotyped expression; a sentence or phrase usually expressing a popular or common thought or idea that has lost originality, ingenuity, and impact by long overuse, as
  sadder but wiser
  , or
  strong as an ox
  .
  
•   (In art, literature, drama, etc.) a trite or hackneyed plot, character development, use of color, musical expression, etc.
  
•   Anything that has become trite or commonplace through overuse.
  

Ah-ha! Trite, commonplace, overused, and unoriginal! Well, no wonder people (and especially Goths) get so upset about being called a cliché!

However, clichés are the dirty little secrets at the heart of Gothdom. No, the Lady of the Manners is serious about this. Most Goth styles are based on specific archetypes, and that fact is a thorn in the side of many people in the subculture. Everyone wants to believe he or she is a beautiful and unique creature, not some silly person who wears black and reads a lot of books about vampires. But hardly anyone sprang forth, fully formed, from the brow of Peter Murphy or Siouxsie Sioux, with perfectly applied eyeliner and an artistically melancholy and dramatic nature. Even the Lady of the Manners, who as a child wanted to grow up to marry Dracula or become the Wicked Witch of the West, paid her dues as a semi-clueless and overly earnest
babybat
.

Clichés are what make the
ElderGoths
roll their eyes at the
babybats
, even though the younger generation is just doing the same silly stuff the
ElderGoths
did years ago. And yes, the Lady of the Manners can already hear some of you asking, “But if it's the same sort of stuff, why is it now okay to make fun of it?”

The answer is, it isn't really okay to make fun of it, but people do. (Yes, even the Lady of the Manners has rolled her eyes and made quietly snarky comments to friends about other people's eyeliner or poorly applied whiteface.) You see, many people be
come uncomfortable when presented with living, breathing examples of how they behaved in the throes of youthful fervor.
ElderGoths
(usually) like to present themselves as terribly jaded and (again, usually) ennui-laden. “Oh, how
adorable
,” they'll say in sarcasm-laden tones, “
Look
at that one with all the swirly eyeliner. Isn't that…cute.” Nothing will make an
ElderGoth
turn snippy and sarcastic faster than seeing someone indulging in stereotypical Goth behavior or “costumes,” because the more senior members want to believe that they (and the Goth culture) have moved beyond the instantly recognizable and lampoonable trademarks of Goth. With, sometimes, a smidgen of resentment that they themselves don't feel they can indulge in those overused icons for fear of looking like someone who is new to Goth. What are some of those instantly recognizable trademarks, those overused icons, those…clichés? Read on Snarklings, read on…

Why friends don't let friends dress like the Crow

Ah,
The Crow
. Long ago, a new comic book appeared. Rendered in black and white, it was a violent, anguished story of lost love, and it was not your typical comic book story. It bracketed nightmarish images of despair and bloody retribution with poetry by Rimbaud and lyrics by The Cure and Joy Division. Word of mouth caused interest in the comic to grow amongst the black-clad types, until it began to seem that all Goths were required to have a copy (along with your tattered paperback of
Interview with the Vampire
, Sandman comics, dried roses, black boots, white face powder, and assorted eyeliner pencils). But even with the
comic's near ubiquitousness amongst Goths, it still seemed like an “insider” sort of thing. If you saw someone reading an issue, you could (kind of) safely assume that the reader shared at least some of your interests and would understand the things you held close to your black romantic heart. This sort of thinking carried over, to a degree, when you saw someone in Crow makeup at a club or convention. Dressing like the Crow almost became a subcultural shorthand indicating a person's interests in other comics, movies, books, and music.

As time went by, the comic gained a higher profile in pop culture and then, lo and behold, the movie was made. And as adaptations go, the movie was pretty good. Brandon Lee did a stunning job, and his death was a tragic loss. But the movie brought the story of
The Crow
even higher visibility; the subsequent sequels, spin-off comics and novels, and TV show got even more attention. It wasn't a cult-following thing anymore—it suddenly seemed like just about everyone knew about
The Crow
. Which meant that people who weren't hard-core fans began co-opting
the look. That was fine and dandy, for fashion is always about borrowing an idea you like and making it your own. But people weren't just taking inspiration from the imagery and adding it to their look; they were slapping on some whiteface and black lipstick and drawing black triangles around their eyes. Things got to the point where you couldn't go to a Goth club without seeing a flock of Crow-wannabes, most of whom had applied their makeup in a ham-fisted manner. The Crow is one of those classic “insta-Goth” icons, but he has an easier look to copy than Dracula. Almost everyone recognizes it (those who don't probably assume the costumed person is impersonating someone from pro-wrestling or a black metal band), which is why people who want to play tourist and visit one of those “weird clubs with all the freaky people in black” pull on some black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a trench coat, slap on some black and white makeup, and head out, feeling confident that they'll “blend in.” They don't.

The idea is also being appropriated by people who aren't quite Goth, but SpoOoOKy. That is part of where the clichéd aspect of dressing like the Crow comes from, but there's another layer to the clichés.

Dressing like the Crow is also one of the great starter-Goth traditions; it's pretty much the male equivalent of dressing like Death from the Sandman comics, which almost every fledgling Goth girl does at least once. Again, it's that shortcut to spooooookiness that is the attraction. A pre-formed identity
that allows the costumed person to feel not only Dark and Mysterious but as if he is part of an alternative subculture (while all he's really done is broadcast that he isn't as connected to that alternative subculture as he thinks).

Eventually people who settle into the Goth world and feel at home there stop needing those pre-formed identities and masks. They feel comfortable being themselves and not adopting what they thought was a required template. (And then they probably go on to mock other people who are new to the scene and experimenting with appropriating the same subcultural icons. It's a vicious circle, Snarklings.)

Over the years, the Lady of the Manners has gone on and on (and on and on and on and…) about how friends don't let friends dress like the Crow. Dressing up like the Crow is considered by most Goths to be trite, overdone, and a bit like holding up a sign that says, “mostly clueless.” But you know what? The Lady of the Manners also thinks that if you really, really,
really
want to dress up like the Crow, you should do it. If that is what makes you happy, if you think that would be the coolest Halloween costume ever for you, then do it. The Lady of the Manners does, however, have two pieces of advice. First: Accept the fact that people will roll their eyes, snicker, laugh, and generally try to make you feel like an idiot. Ignore them. Second: Do the best job you can with the makeup and assembling the costume. Apply the whiteface makeup evenly (over every bit of exposed skin, please, and that includes your ears and neck), and make sure the eyeliner and black streaks are symmetrical. Think long and hard about whether you have the proper physique to wear the costume; it is a sad, harsh fact that nothing becomes an object of ridicule faster than a heavier-set person dressed up as a character previously portrayed by Brandon Lee.

There is nothing wrong with dressing like one of your idols. (The
Lady of the Manners dresses a bit like Mary Poppins's evil twin, which garners her some confused looks, so she wouldn't dream of telling someone not to dress like a fictional character.) So sure, go paint your face and put on your trench coat. Wind strips of electrical tape up your arms, even. Just understand that some people will assume you are trying to blend in with a subculture you aren't very informed about. Be prepared for snide looks and eye-rolling from some people, but do not let those snide looks diminish your enjoyment. Instead, smile back in a knowing (and, if you can manage it, faintly condescending) manner and then ignore them.

No, we don't all think we're vampires (but we do read a lot of vampire books)

“Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!”

That quote from
Dracula
has probably been applied to the modern

Goth scene since it first crawled out of its fog-enshrouded lair, with strains of “Bela Lugosi's Dead” still ringing through the night sky. Yes, Snarklings, vampires and Goth have a long, long his
tory together. How could they not? The Lady of the Manners can't think of a more quintessentially Goth archetype than a creature that is immortal, mesmerizing, and preternaturally alluring and seductive. The entire notion beckons languidly to just about anyone who leans toward the darkly decadent. Not to mention that the classic image of a vampire is an aristocrat wearing sumptuous clothing. All right, an aristocrat wearing sumptuous and possibly blood-splattered clothing, but still—he's wearing it in a darkly elegant sort of way.