My beloved has just been pushed out of a fourteenth story window and is plummeting toward certain doom. I must rescue her and I will – as soon as I change clothes…
We were discussing, last week, how superheroes are evolving and we agreed – didn’t we? – that, on the whole, with a few notable exceptions, they’re getting grimmer.
They also seem to be changing their taste in wardrobes. None of the current television superdoers wear anything more than normal clothing, albeit sometimes very spiffy normal clothing. Time was, and not so long ago, when…shall we call it unconventional garb was an indispensable part of the superhero thing. Capes, masks, tights, all kinds of bizarre raiment, often in the primary hues that were friendly to the aniline dyes and rather primitive printing presses used to color them.
It began, as did so much superheroish stuff, with Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster’s Superman. To the best of my knowledge, these pioneers never went on record regarding exactly why they chose this particular visual strategy, but it was a good idea. It gave the their character and immediate and utterly unmistakable image and it separated him from his ordinary brethren as a police uniform or priestly vestments separate the wearers from plain joes and janes, at least when performing unique services. As Peter Coogan wrote, Superman’s outfit “does proclaim his identity.” The costume was obviously a part of Superman’s appeal, and immediate success, and, being no fools, Siegel and Shuster’s army of imitators copied it.
Consider that, for now, the why of superhero costumes. As to the whence…
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