Everywhere you turn, the world is trying to borrow or steal a bit of the Harley-Davidson image. This began more or less with hordes of freelancers in the 1970s trying to make use of the famous Harley-Davidson bar-and-shield logo on T-shirts and bandannas. The H-D legal department has made sure these folk now request permission and pay royalties.
Then it was all the so-called clone motorcycles that began appearing 10 or 12 years ago; admittedly, imitation is a very sincere form of flattery—or envy—and Harley might have been ever-so-slightly flattered, but these clones were trying to sneak a bit away from H-D Inc.’s bottom line. Most of those attempts are defunct now, having died a natural death due to lack of good quality or marketing expertise.
The latest unauthorized borrowing is Harley fashion. Somebody sent me a long article that appeared on the front page of The New York Times’ Style section, titled “Stealing From a Biker Gang,” and it is all about “motorcycle chic.” These fashion mavens are not talking about the cool look of a chick in $1,500 Dainese leathers with boots, gloves and helmet to match, standing beside an MV Agusta Brutale, but the old-fashioned grunge look, sporting a beat-up black leather jacket over a torn T-shirt, worn jeans and engineer boots. Preferably standing next to a chopped Panhead.
In the H-D branded and the aftermarket world of biker clothing, anything goes, as it does in the up-market fashion market. The Japanese designer Junja Watanabe demonstrated a series based on the old Brando jacket design, with angry-looking models strutting the runway sporting lots of zippers, buckles and black leather; and the Frenchman Jean Gaultier did a whole show with a Harley parked at one end of the stage.
Granted, you will pay a whole lot more for a Watanabe or Gaultier jacket than for anything at your Harley dealership, but that is in the nature of fashion. And you might not want to go sliding down the asphalt in your golden Hermes motorcycle jacket, preferring the abrasive quality of a thick piece of cowhide.
It’s the outlaw image these folks are after. They don’t want to be real outlaws, risking prison and spoiling their retirement plans, but they sure like to pretend to be one on Sunday afternoon. Back when I was a kid we would strap on our cap-loaded six-guns, put on our dime-store cowboy hats, and go and have a shoot-out at our own OK Corral. It was fun, living briefly in a world we never knew.
It’s the same for these modern-day grown-ups, who have read about the Hells Angels and the Mongols in the newspapers, and think it would be infinitely cool to be associated with these rapscallions—remotely, please, as an actual sweaty, scummy outlaw-frequented hangout might prove to be a bit much for these white-wine-sipping toffs.
Heck, back in the 1960s if you showed up in biker garb at a fashionable party, let alone a New York City club, chances are very good you would have been bounced. These clothes were the mark of the “great unwashed,” welcome down at Bloody Bucket where beer was 50 cents a glass, and a big shot set you back a buck. Where did all this come from?
I can remember going to pick up a date on a wintery day in a borrowed car, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt. She comes down the stairs of her parent’s house in jeans, and her dad explodes, railing against her dungarees, and how he has worked hard to move beyond wearing denims, and he doesn’t want to see his daughter going out in them. He was an expensive lawyer who had come from humble beginnings and made good, but this was just before the peanut farmer, Jimmy Carter, brought jeans into the White House and respectability.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, I broke up with her shortly thereafter, so I never did find out how Father weathered the change of fashion.
Back in college I had a nice quilted horsehide Brando jacket, made for me by a then-famous London outfit, Lewis Leathers, and it was my main cover for a dozen years until I lost it. In those days that jacket earned me a mild bad-boy reputation among the girls, which suited me just fine because it did not hurt my social life at all. And 40 years later, the same bad-boy/bad-girl reputation is something the fashionistas have caught onto. Took ’em a while. To give credit where credit is due, the teeny-bopper Hannah Montana has helped this new image along.
The biker look does different things for different genders. The guy sports a shaved head, Harley Attitude jacket (yes, that is its name), heavy chain securing his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, eyes hiding behind Bones Performance shades and a forced tough look on his face: “Don’t mess wit’ me.” He might not even own a motorcycle, but he damned sure wants you to think that you should respect him. Then you take a closer look and realize that he is the nice, affable guy in charge of the produce section of the local supermarket.
Leather and denim do have practical applications. They are both sturdy stuff, and should the rider find himself sliding down the road on his butt, denim gives more protection than a pair of chinos, and leather is 100 times better than some nylon windbreaker. All the motorcycle haberdashers now offer ultra-sophisticated riding gear—man-made materials that are waterproof and have armor built in—but while they maybe be practical, they are just not cool.
While the guy wants to look tough, the biker diva tends to like the tough and promiscuous look: “I’ve been around, and I know how to show you a good time.” Not that the lawyer lady who is sporting very tight jeans, thighs wrapped in black cowhide chaps, and her bosom embraced by a leather halter is likely to become a virtueless woman, but she has no objection to seeing the fellows hang around in forlornly lustful hopes.
It is an eye-opener to wander around the woman’s clothing section of a fully stocked Harley dealership with all branded merchandise. You can buy a pink rhinestone belt buckle for $125, or a pair of sandals with 2-inch heels. Or body jewelry, as they call those spiky decorations that can go into a navel, ear, tongue, or nose. Or tank tops and lacy camisoles. Or a denim bustier. You can even find thong undies, the kind that tempted one of our recent presidents. Harley actually did sell leather thongs awhile back, but they were reported to be just too uncomfortable…or so I have been told.
Black leather jackets are back and the outlaw look is in. I find all this rather fun, making biker fashion seem fresh and new, except we all know it has been around for more than half a century.
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