Since the role of clothing in the perception of gender was a large part of Amanda Jenkins’ presentation preparing us for the RSC’s production of The Roaring Girl, I figured costuming would be even more significant than usual. Which makes sense; clothing plays a prominent role in gender and sexuality in The Roaring Girl already. For example, when Sebastian proclaims, “Methinks a woman’s lip tastes well in a doublet”, it hints at the homoerotic implications that arise from boys liking girls dressed up as boys (4.1). In the play’s program there is a piece by drag king Lenna Cumberbatch, titled “King of the Castle”, which states that the audience that watches a drag king show is usually majority female. Provocatively, this demonstrates that subverting established gender perceptions through dress seems to be at the very least sexually attractive, and at most an aphrodisiac. Moll’s clothing is stereotypically mannish throughout the production and the play, and her intentions in this are clear: she dresses the way she does because she likes it. So, why did the production dress her and the other characters the way they did?
Moll’s first appearance
To answer this question another valuable kernel of information, also from Amanda Jenkins’ presentation, is that she described the costuming as “Victorian Westwood”. This of course refers to legendary British designer Vivienne Westwood, who practically trademarked punk and began a seminal clothing business in the 70s that still flourishes today. Westwood specializes in synthesizing conventional elements into rebellious pieces that practically seethe with vitality. These pieces include crinoline mini-skirts, tartan corsets, traditional menswear cut for the female form, bondage, and, of course, and her infamously high platform shoes. This, combined with more feminine influences like Victoriana and ruffles, creates a look that is feminine, masculine, seductive, androgynous, and utterly unique all at once. It is evident that the production based their costumes off of Westwood’s ideas—besides the obvious presence of the aforementioned there is also a conspicuous use of tartan and plaid, both Westwood signatures. It takes a certain charisma to wear Westwood designs, and the production’s decision to base the show’s costumes heavily on them is indicative of the mood they want to create: mischievous, punk, unafraid. Most of all, her clothes demonstrate flirtation with boundaries—what are the restrictions of pretty and ugly, male and female? The answer is there are none. Moll certainly seems to believe this, with her voluminous, skirt-like pantaloons, suits, and corset/slacks/bustle wedding costume.
Moll’s wedding “dress”
Vivienne Westwood clothing in a special Japanese diffusion line
She’s not the only one; flamboyant Jack Dapper, gaudy Laxton, and even the dandyish Goshawk all share the Westwood aesthetic and flouting of traditional gender conventions, especially Dapper. His peacock feather and dangling earring (reminiscent of Moll’s own) are traditionally feminine pieces he uses to accentuate his own individuality. This is something Moll does as well, beginning with one of her first outfits in the play: a black vest (tight enough to accentuate the androgyny of her physique), a pair of slacks so flared they look like a skirt (in the signature tartan), and, to top it all off, a dainty parasol (held by her servant, of course). The roaring girl herself, Lisa Dillon, even intimated to us that at one point a wig was included in the outfit. Even with its absence the juxtaposition was there. The aphrodisiacal element is also there, faintly at first. When Moll first appears, she is immediately regaled by her admirers: Laxton, Dapper, and Goshawk. The power of such provocation becomes fully evident when Laxton tries to arrange a tryst with Moll. He already has Mistress Gallipot, who embodies every stereotypical aspect of femininity, but he is still intrigued by Moll. Gallipot’s clothing is very feminine—she wears the full skirt and corset, although her heaving bosom is probably a little too risqué. However, the black lace undergarment she wears adds the punk touch Westwood imitations need.
Dapper and co.
Westwood men’s suiting
I mostly loved the production’s decisions with costuming. To help myself realize what the production was trying to do, I imagined watching the play completely deaf. The impression I would have gotten if I had simply seen and not heard is probably that it was a hyper-conceptualized Vivienne Westwood fashion show. Being a huge fan of Vivienne Westwood personally, I think even if Amanda Jenkins hadn’t mentioned it I would have noticed the influences she had on the production design. There was something very primal about the simplicity of Moll’s trousers and the finery of the men’s suits—primal in the sense that a romp through the id would indicate–all desire and not much sense. This is fine in the sense that this lends extraordinary energy; but being primal also indicates something is frightfully simple. The issues at hand are more complex than that. However, going back to the source material and seeing the simplicity of Dekker and Middleton makes me impressed that they managed to do anything at all with the play. The play cannot, by nature, be a visual spectacle on paper, but onstage I think a Jacobean production would have run the risk of being somewhat archaic—breeches and doublets aside, the stark, oppressive atmosphere of the Victoria era suits the play better in both delineating and blurring the lines of gender convention.
Stylish subversion
- Punks overrun the stage
