Red Tie Realness

shelley gaske

The world of queerness comes with fashion edicts, for better or worse: ballroom culture, hanky code, the binary of “butch” and “femme” lesbians, the joyous subtle changes as someone embraces their identity.

My whole life, my fashion sense has been...particular. As a cis-female kid in the 90s, I abhorred skirts and dresses, except for the two I liked but wasn’t brave enough to wear. A die hard music lover, my high school uniform was a parade of carefully curated band shirts, which led the uncultured to the usual ‘tom boy/grunge’ labels. I never got the hang of rings or crop tops and hats still mystify me. But why would I wear cloned cardigans from the GAP when these Radiohead t-shirts won’t wear themselves? My preferences ran contrary to the mall’s Limited Too’s access. I tried to take fashion cues from people on TV, but my small town didn’t stock Acne Studio oversized jumpers or a life-size version of the adorable milk carton from Blur’s “Coffee and TV.” 

So I struggled to be more Bjork than Beck in a Maroon 5 world. That I took equal inspiration from men and women didn’t phase me—I couldn’t enact it anyway. That I was drawn to skin-covering looks felt logical—I didn’t want to display my skin. I was there to hold up the art, not be it.

When I figured out my asexuality, cautious excitement awoke. What glorious fashion legacy was about to unfold before me? Would my love of scaffolded sweaters and asymmetrical cuts finally make sense?

“You could get a black ring,” my ace friend said. “But keep it on your middle right finger or someone might think you’re a swinger.”

I frowned. “But I don’t wear rings.”

“How about a cute cake pin?”

“How about wearing a real cake with a meringue-like leather jacket?”

We both sighed.

I could wear a pin. But the pins on my jacket had to play Hunger Games with dozens of inferior pins to earn their spot.

There had to be more, my Rodarte-senses were tingling. Digging around the rabbit holes of the internet, I found my ace mood board: SpongeBob SquarePants, Pee-Wee Herman, Tim Gunn, and Paula Poundstone. This felt like a squad I could roll with.

But are we a varsity jacket crowd? As if. Boleros? Probably not. Lifted shoes? I’m too tired to make that work. I wanted something we could all put our own spin on and still feel camaraderie.

Then I realized SpongeBob looks adventure ready. Born, like me, in the 80s, but not a televised hit until the late 90s, SpongeBob models utilitarian khaki shorts, a crisp collared shirt, striped socks, close-toed shoes, strong eyelashes, and a red tie. There was both an ease and effort to his chosen outfit. SpongeBob creator Stephen Hillenburg went on record saying our favorite patty-slinger is “somewhat asexual,” which is a feeling many aces know. But the porous boy scout look is not in the cards for me. I don’t even own an iron!

Hatched in 1977, Pee-Wee Herman was created by comedian Paul Rubens. Pee-Wee is often overshadowed by Rubens, especially his scandal of masturbating in an adult theater (which is weird because I don’t think people go to those to do their taxes). Pee-Wee was Rubens’ impression of a comedian that would never make it, flinging playground retorts in a gray plaid suit, starched white shirt, white shoes and, just like SpongeBob, a red bow tie. I found a pattern starting to brew. I grew up watching the television series Pee-Wee’s Playhouse and I wasn’t alone in thinking Pee-Wee wasn’t hetero; he married a fruit salad on the TV show. Was this only code for being gay? Or was it a rejection of sex and relationships? Despite female and male love interests in the films Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and Pee-Wee’s Big Holiday, he proclaims at the end of Big Holiday that any actionable contact is gross. Speculation ran wild, and though Rubens never explicitly said Pee-Wee was ace, he also had enough autonomy to choose a relationship if he wanted and didn’t. While adults say Pee-Wee was an adult trying to pass as a child, I saw him as a child passing as an adult—something I felt I could probably pull off.

Both SpongeBob and Pee-Wee share this “stunted” or “childlike” sexlessness. They may show glimpses of romance, but no sex drive. When that message was overshadowed by the hypersexed world as I aged, it isn’t surprising that I leaned on whimsy and abstraction more often than sexual tension. Like it or not, their queerness without physicality was the sexual model I internalized. Perhaps, in part homage, something from their outfits could come with me as I talked about my own asexuality.

Of all the childhood cartoons, not too many wear ties. But those two do, always.

By the early 2000s, I was trying desperately to appear into dating, and to some extent, mall-approved fashion. I watched Sex and the City, wondering how much they could get done if only they stopped prowling. I watched Project Runway, envious of Tim Gunn scrutinizing the garments.

When I found out Tim Gunn is an ace, something clicked. On Project Runway, he was immaculately dressed in sharp suits, shirts and ties of pinstripes, plaids and sometimes both at once. He made American men’s fashion fun, lively, and gorgeous. Though it wasn’t always red, he always wore a tie.

Comedian Paula Poundstone, always in power suits, is known to wear loud, bright business attire, including ties. I’ll let you guess what color tie she’s sporting on her wiki page.

Other people certainly wear red ties. Presidents, dads, anyone who wears ties probably has a red one. I’m not saying they shouldn’t and we should, just that it’d be nice to have a way to smile at one another across the room. My social anxiety means some days I won’t get close enough to anyone to see a black ring, but a red tie stands out to the trained eye.

Do four ace tie-enthusiasts make a trend? I’ll be the first to say…kinda. What seems to be true is these aces dress however they want, regardless of the rest of the room. SpongeBob didn’t have to wear a tie at all, Tim Gunn’s flawless taste rubric included a tie in every episode. If a red tie calls to your saucy ace style, wear it proudly with your favorite button up….or swan dress.