WORDS ALISSA THOMAS
LET’S HYPOTHESISE
Imagine you were confined to a plain white room. Completely white. No doors, no windows. No sound, no shadows. Nothing to differentiate one part from the other. It wouldn’t be too long before you started manically searching for a way out. Your eyes would struggle to focus. Your ears might ring from the silence. You might start pressing yourself against the walls, searching for a physical anchor. You might coop yourself into a corner and listen to your own breathing, or even begin talking to yourself. After a period of time, it’s likely you’d go mad. With nothing to stimulate you, all normalcy would cease to exist, and your mental balance would follow.
But what was it that made you crack first? Was it the claustrophobia? The panic? The loneliness? Possibly. But more likely, it was the nothingness. The sensorial deprivation. Humans are complex beings, we have evolved over millions of years to be capable of processing endless information. In fact, we’ve come to crave it. No longer is it our primal necessity to run from bears or hunt for food, instead we can relax the fight or flight predisposition and turn our attentions to billionaires in space or rating Uber Eats drivers or mulling over whether reviving Sex and the City was a good idea. At our most fundamental, we are walking receptors. Creatures who have survived based on what our senses teach us to fear and love. So, when the world prevents us from accessing some of the vitals that keep our minds and bodies thriving, how do we cope?
THE FEELS
When Aristotle defined the five senses (sight, sound, smell, taste and touch) circa 360BC, it’s unlikely his epistemology extended to a time when the world would be glued to small electronic devices while holed up in their home-jails. He presented the idea that knowledge is empirical – that everything we know comes from what we sense – and since then, we have pushed it to the outer limits of physiological existence.
We’ve never sensed more in our history. To the extent that philosophers and scientists now argue there are likely many more than the original five. To start, they suggest two need to be added – vestibular: our feeling of balance and orientation, and proprioception: our sense of physical place. They have both been labelled “the sixth sense” at times and while they might seem more intuitive, their acknowledgement proves awareness-based senses are now as viable and tangible as the five we learned about in kindergarten. However, they’re not exactly new, says Jackie Higgins, author of Sentient: What Animals Reveal About Our Senses.
“The senses that work beneath our conscious radar and without our awareness might be new to many people but they are not new to science,” says Higgins. “Proprioception was first coined in 1906 by Charles Sherrington, well before we knew much about it. But at the same time, Sherrington coined ‘interoception’ for the moment-to-moment sensing we do of our body’s inner state; sensing our inside world as opposed to what he called ‘exteroception’, sensing the external world (through seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling). Yet, despite being named over one hundred years ago, scientists are only now beginning to understand interoception, and its definition has shifted and evolved.”
These days we push and pull our lives between non-stop stimulation and cathartic moments of shut down. We control what we feel, where we go and what we do to the highest degree. We’ve become accustomed to feeling everything, anything and nothing as we wish. Therefore, there’s little wonder this period of societal removal has caused speculation over how we’re dealing. The repetitious use of terms like “isolation”, “lockdown” and “social distance” has spun even the most mindful of us into a web of imaginative blackout. We’re surrounded by endless proverbial noise while experiencing so very little real-time life. So, is it possible we’re changing the course of our sensory evolution?
“Not really,” says Professor David Alais from the Faculty of Psychology at the University of Sydney. “Our senses have evolved
over millions of years and [they’re] not going to tact quickly. But I think what has changed is the way we use them. I guess it’s about neuroplasticity. The brain is very flexible, new pathways get laid down and strengthened all the time. [This means] you can get into a nasty habit of constantly looking for visual or auditory stimulation. In a way, this is not evolution but rather changes in patterns of behaviour. And it takes a long abstinence to break them.”
As worldwide lockdowns rolled out last year our era of excess was suddenly thrown into a bubble of deprivation. Those residing in households with families found themselves covered by constant contact, mega-decibels and insane multitasking while those living alone struggled with an increasing lack of human touch and dwindling motivation. Either way, we were repeatedly reminding our brains that our homes and their contents would be the extent of our experience for the time being. It’s not surprising we sought mental refuge in the glow of our social media feeds despite knowing it was doing very little for our creative development.
“We are living in a world of constant interruption and no one is really focusing for long periods anymore,” says Alais. “You don’t have the long down times we used to have, where you just sat quietly with your mind. I think creativity and imagination have suffered generally in modern society and in particular with the lockdown.”
The psychophysics behind the two “new” intero senses (and there’s argument there could be up to 25 more) is indicative of our modern lives. While we gravitate to portals of endless information, we’re simultaneously becoming more aware of our internal receptors and, in turn, we’re on a mission to soothe them. Mindfulness, meditation, yoga, even visual pseudo-experiences such as ASMR (autonomous sensory meridian response – a phenomenon where certain images cause a relaxing frisson in some people) are big business now. We’ve begun to train ourselves to sense when our senses are over – or under – whelmed.
“In January of this year, a paper appeared in the scientific journal Trends in Neuroscience titled ‘The emerging science of interoception’, says Higgins. “We now know that interoception gathers information from all our organs – whether heart, lungs and blood vessels, or stomach and intestines – to both consciously and unconsciously monitor what is going on within us. For example, when I practise yoga, the mindfulness of my breath, my heartbeat starts with interoception.”
Accessing these perhaps “higher” senses could be key to unlocking our most creative selves, and keeping our brains motivated during times like a global pandemic. A person who rolls out of bed only to read click-bait, sit on the couch and spend the day responding to emails is going to have a very different experience to a person who rolls out of bed, goes outside, plans a new project and finds plenty of digital-free time. We have to recognise that the stimulation we’ve taught ourselves to crave is not necessarily what we need (Sourdough For Beginners > ‘WebMD symptom checker’, for example) and that for your sensorial self, staying indoors vastly inhibits creative potential – particularly in comparison with the experiences the outside world offers. Anthropologically, this is what we’re most used to.
“Just going outside for a walk, all that sort of unstructured wandering and randomness prompts a lot of imaginative thought,” says Alais. “When we’re quiet and reflective it becomes active.”
THE FLIGHT
Is there a correlation between rousing culture and doomy days? Prior to the pandemic, fashion was having an affair with dystopia. It was a long, arduous fling that saw many of us embrace the monochromatic bleakness, asymmetrical shapes and, though perhaps only for the most devout, dingy accoutrement that didn’t exclude full face gas masks. As ironic or prophetic as it may have seemed, when the world played a pandemic-sized checkmate, the outlook changed.
Fashion is the original trend-setter, not the responder and it’s dishing out a coming revolution. Gone is much of the post-world doom – collections are suddenly alive with multi-faceted texture, technicolour and even a welcome humour. We’re seeing a rush of optimism and fun not usually saved for high fashion. While shows have been limited to digital offerings (although one could argue lockdown offered some of the most creative alternative presentations in living memory) designers are manifesting an era of jubilation as they return to real-life runways.
“I think fashion is going to be important in the next while, in making people gain the confidence of going back out and dressing up again. The whole point of this collection is: believe it, and it will happen,” Jonathan Anderson said following his Loewe Fall 2021 presentation. Like many of his contemporaries’ fall designs, the collection was unapologetically punchy. Rife with bold, post modern silhouettes, most covered in graphic colour, psychedelic prints and conspicuously tactile appliqué, Anderson called it his “colour therapy”.
At Bottega Veneta, Daniel Lee loathed all the digital dependence so much so that for Spring 2021 he physically sent out a series of inspired mood-books as a sensory distraction. Then for Pre-Fall 2021 his collection of “essentials” featured hard-edged hero pieces covered in texture so three dimensional (wild feathered pants, sequinned mermaid gowns, ultra-swinging fringing) you could almost feel them through the pictures. With the addition of some Mondrian colour blocking and moto leathers, it all drew an apt Mad Max-meets-discoteque idea.
Even Demna Gvasalia, with a penchant for the grim, turned to cheeky irony for Balenciaga Fall 2021 Couture. A splendidly tailored, yet still theatrical, collection that romanced Cristóbal Balenciaga’s archives. The organza floral overlays! The oversized collaring! The new take on the pillbox hat! The bulbous drapery! All drew plenty of applause. However, it was Pierpaolo Piccioli who has perhaps been most responsible for willing us back into a life of sensory whimsy. For Valentino Couture Fall 2021,
a live runway of kaleidoscopic colour, he offered an excruciatingly impressive atelier-led collection. It saw a gargantuan of sensorially delighting fabrics, exquisite prints – many created via hand-stitching – and Phillip Treacy ostrich hats that hovered over micro-mini party dresses that immediately conjured the carefree nights of decades past…and a hopeful note for the future.
Historically, there’s a pattern. Following the end of the First World War and the 1918 influenza pandemic, culture took the reigns in a generational revolution. Ubiquitously known as the Roaring Twenties it brought about economic prosperity and glitzy, emancipated fashion designed to clash against the dreary threads of its past. Similarly, the cholera plague of the 1830s in France and England saw an uprising of reckless excess among the upper classes, as well.
Financial experts now predict a similar path and another post-pandemic “boom”. According to The Economist the key factors in these times are that people spend more, take more risks and want more from their governments. The fashion industry would certainly hope this is true. Could the coming frivolity mean we’re in for a giant tracksuit bonfire, laughing from under our oversized feathered hats, tottering about in Pleaser platforms just because we can? Could even the most Gaga of couture now make for viable ready-to-wear as we kick up our heels, kiss the dance floor and throw caution (and face masks) to the wind?
Or, perhaps this is just the fever dream of a society still largely restricted. Either way, having a lot to look forward to is the psychological ticket to getting out of this whole mess mind-in-tact. And fashion-wise there is a lot to look forward to. A growing sustainability outlook including zeitgeisty new production models like “Farm To Closet”, a return to live fashion months and the second coming of Queen Phoebe Philo.
Fashion, like all culture, offers an escape of wonderment and beauty. One both thought- provoking and soul-pleasing. It rounds the senses and collects the synesthetes among us (people who experience several senses from one stimuli – seeing musical notes as colours, for example). The visceral pleasure of a new silhouette, a technically tailored handbag, a perfect leather shoe. Fashion’s recent relegation to fleece and Uggs was, of course, a timely necessity but certainly not indicative of its future.
It may seem superfluous to be planning fashion extravagance when much of the world is reeling, however this is about evoking potential. While dressing up and going out might still seem a far-off rainbow, what’s important is that we’re all beginning to see the colour.
THE FREEDOM
At the end of Bo Burnham’s Netflix special Inside, the character he portrays (some say the story is autobiographical, some say it’s representational) finally breaks free from the small room in which he’s been isolating. He finds himself locked out and cowering in the spotlight of the real world. Then, he tries desperately to break back in, overwhelmed as the shock of reality returns. While a year of hibernation doesn’t necessarily mean we’re now a society of agoraphobes, it does mean crossing back into the three dimensions of real-time experience could be an assault – both pleasing and shocking – on the senses. “It will be a great relief and quite stimulating, I think for people’s imagination and mental creativity,” says Alais.
At least the damage of deprivation won’t result in a fundamental shift in the human make up. Perhaps culture’s ability to fight the boredom and monotony is what has been keeping us afloat all along. God knows where we would have been without a Tiger King here and a Handmaid’s Tale there. A live-streamed Grammys here and a Royal interview there. In taking our senses back to the streets, we’ll have a pocketful of life lessons, a new appreciation for nights out as well as some finely tuned opinions on pharmaceuticals.
Does this mean we will never again sweat the small stuff and only revel in the privilege of being present? The chance meetings, the dinner dates, the crowded bars, the real laughter? The hugs, the kisses, the tangibility of common space?
Idealistically, it’s a great thought. Realistically, and hyperbolically though, it will be five minutes before we want more. And more. And then more again. That’s how humans evolve. But at least we now have some perspective. We’re alive with a sensorial wisdom less likely to be taken for granted. Appreciating our fortuitous place on the evolutionary table while giving thanks for our good sense, our opposable thumbs and for finally having somewhere to wear our new Bottegas.
