Forget everything you’ve ever heard about latex. No longer is it reserved for underground S&M parties and fantasy role-play: Lately, latex has become a bona fidefashionsensation, with designers from Acne Studios to Vetements sending outiterations(and lots of them) in recent seasons. And thanks to a slew of latex-loving celebrities—Kim Kardashian West, Bella Hadid, and Rita Ora among them—it has shed its fetishistic associations and begun percolating in the mainstream. But while the trend is rampant on runways and red carpets alike, things get, um, slippery when it comes to wearing the look in real life. Put simply, could someone who has never owned a scrap of latex (let alone been covered in it) pull it off? In an attempt to find out, I test-drove a racy andrubbery look from Kendall and Kylie Jenner’s eponymous label on a recent Saturday night—and on a date, no less.
It bears noting here thatmy personal style is about as un-Jenner-like as it’s possible to be. Sure,I work in an office where pretty much anything goes—hell,evenlatex—butmywardrobetends to revolve around sweet printed dresses and tailored jackets. At least the sistersoffertwolatexpiecesto pick from: ablackdemi-cut bra and a bustier dress done in a traffic cone–orange hue. In the campaign images, Kylie styles the bra with a knit high-waist skirt, while Kendall wears the dress with a baseball cap for a sexy-sporty twist. Neither were made with shrinking violets in mind, but I go with the Kylie-approved bra-and-skirt combo, rationalizing thata (relatively) subtle useof latex will go a long way on a newbie such as myself. Little did I know that eventhe smallest stretch of latex requires substantial know-how. For starters, my bra is shipped out to me with a full page of detailed instructions outlining how to wash, powder, store, and condition the latex in order to maintain its next-level shine. The one-sheeter also calls for a dressing aid known as Pjur Cult—a synthetic lubricant designed to help you get into your latex comfortably and alsokeep it glossy after each wear. (Not to be confused with Pjur’s personal lubricant, this harder-to-find formula is meant for latex clothingexclusively.)
Heedless of what turned out to be a crucial first step, I decided to give it a dry run. Ibegan zipping into the skirt and snapping into the bra just like I would any other underpinning—by turning it upside down, securing the clasp in front, then twisting it around my rib cage before pulling up the straps. This lifelong method of getting dressed, I quickly discovered, is of no use when working with latex. While slick to the touch, the material refuses to slide, no matter how hard you pinch, pull, or tug. The initial blow to mysense of dignity notwithstanding, I finally managed to get it on, and suffice it to say, I was hooked. When styled with the skirt, my latexbra lookedhotyetelevated.What’s more, theensemblestill felt true to me—or, at least, this newly uninhibited version of me. Allof a sudden,the non-latex portion of my closet felt oddly conservative, andthanks to the super-strength grip, there was no chance of a wardrobe malfunction, so long as I had the right lubricant.
After calling several of the city’s morefashionable adultshops, including The Pleasure Chest (ofSex and the Cityfame) and coming up empty-handed, Ifound what I was looking for at The Baroness Latex—a latex-only boutique in the East Village where celebrities like Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj, Madonna, Katy Perry, and even Kylie Jennerhave allturned to for their various latex fashion needs. An expert in both design and fit, The Baroness, as she is widely known,designed the lemon-yellow stirrup hose Solange Knowles wore to the 2016 Met Gala, and was also consulted to fit Beyoncé’s Givenchy latex dress the same night.There, on 13th Street between Avenues A and B, was asidewalksign that read“YOU WANT LATEX”in big block letters. Irang the doorbell,expectingThe Baroness to answer,but instead it was ayoung salesgirl. (She wasn’twearing latex, but rather street clothes.) Inside, the sharp chemical odor was immediately recognizable, emanating from racks upon racks of latex dresses, trenchcoats, leggings, and the like. “You always need to put on a shining product,” said the girl,gesturing to a stack of French-cut briefs and 1950s-style high-waisted knickers in their original matte state. “Some people find that they need to reapply it to certain areas over the course of the night, like your butt—but that’s really only if you’re going to be sitting in a chair.” I certainly hadn’t planned on standing the entireevening,butbecause I had (thankfully)chosen a bra and not that dress, I was free to lounge comfortably without worrying about running to the bathroom for touch-ups.
