Do objects have a gender? Lately, the question has triggered many of the most cutting-edge and interesting researches within the field of both history and design. When dealing with fashion – a discipline strongly related to the body, as well as to the mind of the wearer – there are many variables that are to be taken into account to try and answer that question.

English fashion plate depicting the Dandy's Toilette, 1820-1829, Courtesy Kunstbibliothek, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, CC BY NC SA

One of these variables is surely history. Many historical objects are now read as associated with one gender or the other, even though a closer look might turn the perspective upside down. One of these objects is the corset: even though contemporary narratives describe the corset as a device for female seduction, corsets weren’t just used by women to shape their silhouettes. Since posture and shape were incredibly important element in men’s appearance, in nineteenth century busts and corsets for men were produced, advertised and sold – and taken up, among others, by the most fashionable dandies. Also, man’s corsets show how considering different geographies can change the perception of the ‘gender’ of some objects.

Male bodice made of glass beads, leather and metal, Courtesy the Israel Museum, All Rights Reserved

Another aspect to be considered is the ‘look’, the appearance of the object, which associate them with a precise gender identity. Jewels and other elaborate accessories, as pins and buttons, above all the most lavish and flashy, are generally associated with women. Also bags – above all clutches and purses, which developed from the minaudiere and the ridicule – have been appointed as something ‘feminine’. Both these categories of objects seem to have a gender of their own, defining the gender identity of the user more than being defined by it. Since some objects are so linked to one gender or the other, they have been used to go against the status quo and protest the social rules of conformity: this is what happens in the 1970s, when men’s jackets and other items were worn by women to go against the patriarchy and challenge both existing social structures and roles.

Pair of man's silver waistcoat buttons, decorated with filigree and coloured pastes, Sweden 19th century, Courtesy Victoria and Albert Museum, CC BY SA

To conclude this short overview, it seems that the very core of the matter can be seen in the encounter between the ‘pure’ object and the user. As Pat Kirkham points out, sometimes the apparently ‘un-gendered’ objects are added some elements in order to become gendered, and automatically signal the identity of the wearer: for example, unisex shoes as Doc Marten are ‘feminised’ with girly laces. To answer to the pending question ‘are objects gendered?’ we have to take into account the active role of the user in the process of giving meaning to an object, whose gender is not only defined by its design and function, but above all by who uses it and how – which can sometimes change the very nature of the object itself, subverting its traditional role it was given by society.