The Furkini

Denise: This is a short clip I've been working on, which is about a very special garment known as the furkini. It is a garment that is gifted during the Burning Man festival. Here are some of my musings (and perhaps a little background) about gifted adornments in general, and the furkini, in particular:

Gifting Clothing at Burning Man

The gift is an important component of the Burning Man experience, and symbolizes a redressing of an economically driven society. However, it is easy to criticize such attempts, as fashion theorist Elizabeth Wilson (2000) reminds us, that like other oppositional groups throughout history, “their attempt to subvert the dominant ideologies… [use] the very mass consumption means that constitute or contribute to these ideologies” (p. 204). Similarly, Burning Man participants embrace consumerism in order to make gifts that allow them to subvert consumerism in the ephemeral moment of the festival. Nonetheless, the spontaneous and temporal act of gifting affirms the community’s counter-capitalist narrative.

On a more intimate scale, the gift allows strangers to interact and collaboratively construct daily appearances at the festival. Many gifts given are adornments: necklaces, garments, scarves, goggles, or forms of body painting. This two-person collaboration is unique in that the story of the gift (how it was made, what it is made of, what it might mean, where it is from, and the story of the maker) combines with the story of the recipient. The Burning Man experience is thus materialized and memorialized through gifts given and received, and these eventually become mnemonic devices to the wearer once they are re-introduced into what Burners call the "default world" and everyday appearances.

In some cases, the gift is intended to be transformative. When discussed in interviews, “transformative adornments” were almost always are spoken of in reference to men. Large-scale theme camps, such as the Black Rock Boutique and Kostume Kult, provide primarily women’s clothing to Burners. In interviews with members of both camps, they discussed the importance of "getting men out of their khakis and t-shirts and into more exciting clothing." Furthermore, there was an indication that men tended to be more reserved, especially if it was their first year or first day to the festival. While the clothing is the material gift, there was a feeling that the real gift was the freedom accompanying that initial transgression of gender norms.

Another theme camp called Camp Furkini--on a much smaller scale--frames its mission as one of transforming men’s experience of dress at the festival. Each year, Camp Furkini makes 50 garments (“furkinis”) to give out to men.



The furkini is certainly a fascinating garment for a number of reasons. Perhaps because it is a contemporary codpiece? Or maybe because it hearkens to a primitive, caveman-like aesthetic? Or is it because its shape is incredibly masculine, yet it is so revealing of the male body (which is more often concealed by clothing)? The colors, often in bright pinks, blues, and reds tend to be those classified as feminine in western culture. Furthermore, it is interesting how sexuality is complicated by the furkini. Made, designed, and manufactured by gay men, it tends to be most popular with straight men. As James’s partner and co-furkini-maker, Mertz, explained to me, “It’s the straight guys that really love the furkini” (hypothesizing that this was because of their fashion repression in the everyday world). The furkini problematizes, like many other Burning Man outfits, the complex relationships among masculinity, sexuality, and appearance. The story the furkini tells is that it’s ok for men to feel sexy in their clothes, no matter what their sexual orientation, outward appearance, or relative manliness. Furthermore, it carries with it a narrative of democratization, that all men may appear manly, well endowed, and look fabulous at the same time. These narratives are both intimately constituted through the giving and receiving of the garment. James and his partner, Mertz, develop close relationships with the men (and often their girlfriends, too), who receive the furkini. Recipients keep in touch and send photographs of themselves in the furkini, both in public and private spaces. As one recipient wrote to them later in the year, “I can’t take it off; I wear it all the time. Please send washing instructions.”