Viva la Famiglia!

Mssrs. Dolce and Gabbana are all the rage—and outrage—these days for their statements about traditional family. But in the echo chamber of celebrity denouements, I fear we may be missing a very obvious point, the very touchstone that started this whole whirlwind: the fashion itself.

Oscar de la Renta, who dressed first ladies from Jackie Kennedy to Laura Bush, said that “the great thing about fashion is that it always looks forward.” While I’d never quibble with the man’s taste in textiles, I must disagree with him philosophically: For, on the contrary, fashion always looks backward, or rather, it looks back at us. It is a reflection of our ideas of ourselves. The German philosopher G.W.F. Hegel writes that clothing is, or at least ought to be, an “expression of spirit.”

Important changes in culture are always accompanied by changes in fashion. In cultural crises, we reevaluate how we see ourselves and how we want to see ourselves, in some combination of reflection and projection.

Recall 9/11. Before the attacks we were still suffering through “Y2K” fashion. The styles were techy, futuristic, and all very post-something-or-other. We were looking beyond traditional cuts, colors, and genders; androgynous runway models of both sexes were a familiar sight. But after 9/11, which literally rocked Fashion Week, the runways were all of a sudden different.

In 2002, instead of metallic mesh there were floral prints. Instead of clothing for a new world to come there were new designs inspired by old traditions; kaftans were all the rage. And instead of lithe youths slinking down the runways, there were suddenly burly men; instead of hairless bodies, there were beards. By the end of the year, British GQ would call the new trend “expensive scruff.”

Denim became extremely popular, especially distressed denim—for indeed, we were in distress. The world was reeling and confused and we found strength and hope in the heroic image of the first responders. In fashion’s mirror, we wanted to behold the image of the NYPD and FDNY, of men who could rescue and protect us, who would sacrifice themselves for us out of duty and love.

It was a sudden and dramatic change, if ephemeral. Indeed, I hadn’t thought about all this in quite a while, until I saw Dolce & Gabbana’s Winter 2016 show: Viva la Mama!

The clothing was tasteful, sharp, and classic-with-a-twist; less sexy and more elegant, even modest. And true to its name, Viva la Mama! featured not only women, but women with children. Indeed, with the women dressed all in black, carrying and walking with children dressed all in white, the focus was clearly on the children; that it is fashionable to have children (or at least to wear them). Even the men’s line prominently featured words of love (the slogan: amore per sempre) and images of families with young children.

This might seem surprising in country like Italy, which over the last fifty years has seen a steady decline in birth rates: from 2.44 in 1962 to 1.40 in 2012 (in America during that same period the decline has been even greater: from 3.46 to 1.88). But perhaps it isn’t surprising at all. Perhaps it is becoming fashionable to have children. And perhaps it’s not just children, but traditional families that are the new “expensive scruff.”

The last few years have seen a bewildering amount of cultural changes that affect our understanding of ourselves and our families. Marriage rates are at record lows, as are birth rates, while out-of-wedlock pregnancies are at record highs. Young people no longer only have to choose a college or a career, but most must choose (or discover—I’m not arguing here) which of a growing panoply of genders they are; and people of all genders can now marry and adopt children in much of the Western world. Whatever one may think of these changes, they certainly amount to a cultural crisis: a moment when important decisions are and must be made.

In 2002, there was no conscious, coordinated campaign to remake fashion. The spirit had changed as a result of a crisis, and so the “expression of spirit” in fashion changed accordingly. Perhaps the spirit is changing again in response to a new crisis. And perhaps it has been changing for a while.

For the first time in a decade, more Americans identify as “pro-life” than “pro-choice.” Teen pregnancy rates are down, no doubt in part because of education, but also because teens are waiting longer to have sex (a 16 percent decline between 1995 and 2010). The same decade has seen a proliferation of popular online magazines like Verily and The Art of Manliness, and new organizations like I Believe in Love and the Love and Fidelity Network that cater to a young generation eager to regain an understanding of what it means to be feminine, masculine, and in love.

These trends are both male and female, grassroots and corporate; that is, they are cultural. Think of the beautiful Real Women ads by Dove and of Always’ runaway fan-favorite Super Bowl commercial #LikeAGirl, both celebrating an authentic femininity free from the extremes of hyper-sexualization and anti-sexualization. Even men’s fashion among hipsters has evolved into what has been dubbed “lumber-sexual,” as traditional foresting brands like Filson and Danner have become the envy of every young urbanite’s eye, while boutique craft shops are offering bespoke work aprons in leather and wax-cloth.

Something has changed. The spirit has changed.

It has been a generation now since Pope St. John Paul II introduced us to the idea of a “culture of life,” at World Youth Day in Denver, Colorado, and almost exactly 20 years since the promulgation of his encyclical on the theme, Evangelium Vitae (March 25, 1995), in which he called for a “new feminism” that would “affirm the true genius of women in every aspect of the life of society.” There’s no getting around the fact that whatever else the “true genius of women” might include, it most definitely includes motherhood.

A Dolce & Gabbana fashion show might not be the first place you’d look to see whether a pope’s message has taken root, but maybe it should be. As we saw after 9/11, when culture is in crisis, it’s not just political, religious, and intellectual types who respond: Even fashionistas, rightfully, join the chorus. Now, in 2015, we see the fashion world responding to a different crisis: We have become barren and unsexed in a time—like all times—when we need men, women, and children, to be fathers, mothers, and families. In the context of this crisis we hope that Oscar de la Renta is right after all, that this fashion is indeed looking forward. And we join Mssrs. Dolce & Gabbana in proclaiming: Viva la Mama! Viva la Papa! Viva la Famiglia!