Transparent begins with Maura’s failed attempt to come out to her children as a transgender woman. Disguised as her old self Mort in an oversized men’s shirt and shorts, her hair gathered in a small, perfunctory bun, Maura is unable to be honest with Sarah, Ali and Josh because she’s overwhelmed by their self-centeredness and selfishness. The viewer, much like Maura’s children, is still unaware of what is really happening. It isn’t until the end of the first episode that we see Maura as herself rather than as Mort. After the unsuccessful coming-out dinner is over, Maura’s real self is revealed with her hair worn loose and a flowing, 1970s-inspired kaftan. These two elements will develop as a mainstay in her signature style throughout the series. As costume designer Marie Schley stated, kaftans convey a certain gender ambiguity and eccentricity, while also evoking broad cultural references:

‘Jeffrey [Tambor] and I discussed which women Maura would be looking to and feel a kinship to. We talked about Joni Mitchell and Mama Cass. Also, Maura’s not just a transgender person. She has many other elements to her life. She comes from a liberal, intellectual background. She’s a professor. We always thought she’d be well travelled, and she probably went on sabbatical and gathered items from around the world.’¹

In the first half of the first season, Maura’s style blossoms and becomes more elaborate as she eases into the feelings of liberation, discovery and regeneration following her coming out. For the first time in her life, as she resolves to her daughter Sarah, she is no longer ‘dressing up as a man.’ A key moment is Maura’s sartorial transition is the friendship with Davina, a trans woman who works at the LGBT Centre in L.A. Davina introduces Maura to hair extensions, gives her makeup tips and baptises her style as ‘California earth mama,’ which perfectly captures Maura’s love of kaftans and hippie culture, which she had only partially experienced as Mort before.

But Maura’s look wasn’t always inspired by the likes of Joni Mitchell. The episodes feature flashbacks to the late 1980s and early 1990s that reveal Mort’s friendship with another trans woman, Marcy, who becomes a companion along his process of experimentation and self-discovery. When Mort and Marcy bravely decide to meet in a hotel and introduce themselves as their female selves for the first time, Mort is wearing a mid-length, blond wig, a sequinned top and officially introduces herself to Marcy as ‘Daphne Sparkles.’ The name and the exaggerated femininity of the clothing are symbolic of Mort’s anticipation to wear women’s clothes, but the effect is borderline parodic: Daphne Sparkles looks more like a drag queen than a transgender woman. In fact, Marcy tells Mort that he needs a less ‘stripper-y’ name for her feminine self and baptises her as Maura. It is only in later flashbacks that we see Maura’s style evolving from sparkling, over-the-top 1980s references, towards flowing silhouettes and natural fabrics. One of the most successful looks created by Schley is the outfit worn by Maura to a Shabbat dinner, the first time we see Maura in the role of the family ‘matriarch.’ For the occasion she wears a rainbow kaftan made in Israel and a necklace of mah-jongg tiles. The clothing references Maura’s identity as a Jewish woman, while the tiles, according to the costume designer, evoke a traditional scene of old ladies playing mah-jongg together.² The entire ensemble conveys much more than just her gender identity; rather, it embraces her as a complex, multifaceted person, and her dress is an extension of this inner identity.

The flashbacks also show the stark contrast between Maura’s earthy, hippie-inflected style and that of Shelly’s, Mort’s ex-wife. The difference is rooted in their personality and ambiguous gender roles in the family. Shelly sums up her dissatisfaction with the role swap during a family emergency with the line ‘I want you to be a man. Save the goddamn day.’ Shelly’s paired-down, masculine style is symbolic of the fact that she was forced to wear the trousers in the family as Mort unconsciously took on more of a motherly role. Later on in season two, when they attend Sarah’s wedding, the contrast could not be more evident: Maura is wearing a summery, breezy dress while Shelly is in a trouser suit. As season two progresses, however, and Shelly finds a new partner, her clothing becomes more colourful, the silhouettes less angular.

While Shelly’s clothes become more relaxed as the series goes on, the style of Josh, her and Maura’s son, becomes more serious and curated. At the beginning of Transparent we meet Josh as a musical producer who is going through a mid-life crisis, however, during season two we see him try to take responsibility for his life choices. This transition is manifested through a slow move from unbuttoned shirts and a casual style to a more muted colour palette and button-ups, which don him a more corporate, controlled look.

Similarly, Josh’s sister Ali, the younger of the Pfeffermans, goes through a radical sartorial transformation during the two seasons, perhaps the most significant one after Maura’s. What the two share is a sense of discomfort with their own body as well as struggles with their gender identity. While Maura’s is mostly shown through the flashbacks, Ali’s is explored in the present. The two of them strongly resemble one another; in fact, in the pilot Maura tells Ali: ‘you know, out of all my children you’re the one. You can see me most clearly.’ Ali’s issues with her body and gender identity parallel Maura’s in the series. Since episode one she is depicted as a typical tomboy who struggles with her femininity and has body image issues. After Maura’s coming out she becomes more keen to explore gender and decides to enroll in a women’s and gender studies program. There she meets Dale, a transgender man, whom she is deeply attracted to. During their first conversation he mentions his love of hyper-feminine women, or ‘high femme’ in his words, and observes that Ali on the other hand ‘gives off a dyke vibe.’ This prompts her to attempt to achieve a femme look that matches Dale’s cowboy getup: a leather fringe jacket, a dress that would not look out of place in a saloon, heeled boots and bright, red lipstick.

While the high femme look is short-lived, it offers Ali room to experiment with gender via clothing choices. The two extremes are reconciled in her appearance at the end of season two, where Ali seems to have come to terms with her homosexuality. Her clothes are genderless but more fitted and colourful in comparison to her earlier casual garb, her makeup becomes subtle and her hairstyle more disciplined. Her newly found confidence is thus accompanied by the creation of a stylised tomboy look. In this sense, Ali’s sartorial transition is as significant as Maura’s in terms of gender expression, in that it explores the hyper-masculine, the hyper-feminine and settles somewhere in the spectrum between the two.

By exploring a variety of ‘transitional’ wardrobes, Transparent succeeds in bringing to the fore not only a nuanced depiction of different gender identities and expressions, but also the temporary, sometimes playful experiments that remain often overlooked in our struggle to create a stable identity, to find the red thread, if you will, that brings together our fragmented selves.

Alex Esculapio is a writer and PhD student at the University of Brighton, UK.

1. http://www.mtv.com/news/1962385/tranparent-wardrobe-interview/ ↩

2. Ibid. ↩

Known as ‘the hunk with a pussy,’ Buck is famous for his ‘red-neck’ masculine appearance which is in stark contrast with his below-the-waist anatomical detail. He coined the phrase ‘It’s not what’s between your legs that defines you’ and the erotic potential of his films all stress that gender performance exerts as much sexual allure as what is (or is not) between the legs. Many of us, who have often felt quite secure in our sexuality, have been amazed at how Buck’s performances can be a solvent of our sexual identity. I certainly won’t have been the first gay man to have been turned on by Buck’s films.

When Buck arrives, he’s extremely friendly – beaming an ear-to-ear smile of perfect, white teeth, gleaming beneath his auburn facial hair. To have a conversation about shame, with a man who claims to have no shame, might seem a daunting task but Buck was happy to talk frankly about anything from trans politics to his own particular performance of hard masculinity.

Niall Richardson: Your career has followed an interesting path in that it reverses the trajectory that a lot of performers would aspire to have. While many porn stars might aspire towards professional modelling, you started as a fashion model but then gave up a career in professional modelling to move to the much less culturally respected arena of shameful pornography.

Buck Angel: It’s interesting you use ‘shameful’ as I felt more shame when working as a fashion model than I do working in porn. But then, I have no shame. Modelling was something I never aspired to – I really was put into it. Believe it or not, I was simply discovered on the street and really only followed through with all the opportunities as a dare. In modelling terms I was actually quite old – 26 – but I was very successful and made a lot of money from it. I could well have been a supermodel (although the term didn’t exist at that time) as I was very influential in promoting the popularity of the androgynous look. However, it just didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to be a pretty woman; I wanted to be a handsome man.

Niall: That story really emphasises how important it was for you to change sex. Many people would think that because you’re told by all of society that your body is beautiful, and you’re able to make a livelihood from it, that you’d be happy to just accept it. But obviously you weren’t.

Buck: Exactly. That’s why I felt more shame in working in the ‘respectable’ profession of fashion modelling than I do in porn. I don’t feel any shame for the representations I make now, I only sometimes get a sense of slight ‘defeat’ when people don’t get the message from my work.

Niall: And what is your message?

Buck: My message is self acceptance. I always do very basic sex scenes and try to represent Buck Angel as a positive sexual being. There have been lots of representations of trans bodies – she-male porn and stuff like that – but that’s always been a curiosity and something appealing to a voyeuristic nature.

Niall: Perhaps a big difference is that your representations emphasise Buck Angel’s sexual pleasure rather than sensationalising a ‘freak’ body? Your work is not ‘enfreakment’ or a freak show.

Buck: Yes. It’s sexual pleasure for Buck Angel. But in that respect I always try to stress that I am an individual first and not a representation or ambassador for a specific community.

Niall: Ah yes, do you find that you’re made to bear the burden of representation?

Buck: Yes, I often find myself inspiring controversy from the trans community because of the things I say. Recently, I’ve been accused of being fat-phobic because I’ve cautioned FtM transsexuals about the need to take care of their body, especially when they’re introducing testosterone into their system. As you know yourself from weight training, if you don’t exercise and watch your diet, all that extra testosterone can cause the body to put on fat.

Niall: It would be like doing a steroid cycle and not training? I see that all the time and guys just turn to flab.

Buck: Exactly. And I’m not being fat-phobic when I warn FtM transsexuals about that – I’m simply stressing the need to take pride in your body. I always have a sense of pride in my body and always take care of myself.

Niall: Well, let’s talk a little more about the response from the trans community.

Buck: A lot of things have changed in trans politics. In my day, we transitioned to become men – to identify as men. We didn’t even have the term ‘cissman’ to describe someone who has maintained his birth sex; we used ‘bio-man.’ One big difference nowadays is that we now find people who are transitioning so that they can identify as ‘trans.’ That ‘trans’ is an identity in itself. That’s fine but it’s just not my politics.

Niall: And do you think that trans politics could possibly be accused of asking too much of the everyday person? For example, many trans people now prefer to use the pronoun ‘they’ instead of ‘he’ or ‘she.’ I can understand the political agenda of doing that but in everyday conversation that can make things rather difficult?

Buck: Exactly. It’s like trying to reinvent the language.

Niall: And for everyday people, who don’t have degrees in sociology or rhetoric, that can be asking a little too much.

Buck: Indeed. My agenda has never been to reinvent the whole system but simply to show that you should love yourself and take pride in yourself and your sexuality – whatever it is.

Niall: And to me that’s something you do very well. I think one of the first times I ever saw you was years ago, when I was a postgrad student and you appeared on This Morning.

Buck: I loved that interview I really felt I had a chance to do something positive.

Niall: This Morning was a very popular show and would have reached a huge audience at that time. I remember being very impressed by the way you talked about trans issues so matter-of-factly.

Buck: Yeah, I always try to be calm and respectful. It doesn’t help to be aggressive.

Niall: Well certainly looking the way you do, it wouldn’t help to be aggressive. I should think most people find your look intimidating enough!

Buck: [Laughs]

Niall: So let’s talk about your look then, your iconography. It’s obvious that you have a respect for masculinity – and a particular type of masculinity. You’ve been described as having a ‘red-neck masculinity’ by media scholar Katrien Jacobs or, in our British context, as representing ‘hard bastard’ masculinity.

Buck: [Laughs] Yes, I’ve always aimed for .

Niall: But it’s a particular type of masculinity in that it’s particularly classed? In Britain we would simply call it ‘working class’ masculinity. In the US you’d probably use the euphemism ‘blue-collar.’ Why that particular iconography?

Buck: My father. He was big influence on me. He was a working-class, blue-collar – whatever you want to call it – rough man. For me, that has always symbolised masculinity. Another influence on me was the imagery of Tom of Finland.

Niall: And you’re very much settled on that particular style?

Buck: Yes, I always wear boots, jeans, t-shirts. I don’t think I’d ever wear a formal suit – unless, of course, I had a special occasion which really demanded it

Niall: And what about your tattoos?

Buck: Actually, those had started before I transitioned.

Niall: Were they perhaps some sort of rebellion against the expectations of the fashion modelling world?

Buck: Mmmmm, I don’t think so. I think they were more about claiming my own body, demonstrating ownership of my own body.

Niall: It’s interesting that it’s when people often feel their life is most out of control that they like to demonstrate control of their body. They might not be able to control their lives but they can control their bodies. And what about your facial hair?

Buck: Very important for me. A symbol of masculinity.

Niall: So what underpins your particular look? This is a difficult question, but would you say your look is driven more by politics or erotics? In other words, your performance of hard, rough masculinity: do you do it because you know it exerts an erotic attraction or is it about asserting masculinity? Or indeed, am I making a false distinction here? Is it ever possible to think of sexuality outside of gender?

Buck: Very interesting question. I think, for me, everything I do is inspired by eroticism. I find it OK that people look at me sexually – I like it. I would never simply grow a beard because I felt it made a point about masculinity unless it was also an erotic element. This is always the way I’ve felt about fashion. I wear tight jeans because they flatter my body and draw attention to sexy parts of my body – not because they’re the fashion.

Niall: In that respect, what do you think about the current fashion of middle-class boys emulating tough, working-class fashion? I suppose the main example at the minute is wearing the beltless jeans which all fall down because this was how people held in the police cell had to wear their jeans when their belts got confiscated.

Buck: I think everything you wear should flatter your body. You should never wear something because it’s cool and hip. For me, clothes are never just fashion but about asserting your individuality.

Niall: Again, it’s this idea of taking pride in yourself and what you do?

Buck: Exactly. It’s about working with your own body.

Niall: OK Buck, so we’ve talked about porn industry shame, trans shame and class shame but I was wondering if you could speculate on a different type of shame often associated with your movies: the spectator’s shame? Speaking personally, as a gay man, I would have no problem telling people that I liked the type of porn produced by Falcon or Titan but admitting to liking Buck Angel is something else.

Buck: [Laughs] Yes! I am many people’s dirty little secret. It is shameful for many people – gay or straight – as they think they’re not supposed to be attracted to me or turned on by me. In gay culture it’s all about the penis – gay men are supposed to be attracted only to that.

Niall: I know, I’ve always been surprised by the number of personal ads on online gay dating sites in which people simply post images of their cocks and nothing else. No face pic; no body pic – just a cock. How’s anyone supposed to be attracted to that? Why don’t you just go out and buy a dildo?

Buck: [Laughs] Yes, for me it’s always about being attracted to a person’s body rather than an organ. People are attracted to me for my masculinity rather than whether I have a penis or not.

Niall: So for you sexuality is definitely built upon gender – the body’s style and performance?

Buck: For me, yes. But sexuality is a wide continuum. I hope that that’s one of the things my work shows: that you should be OK with your sexuality. It’s not about shame; it’s about pleasure. 

This article was originally published in Vestoj On Shame.

Dr Niall Richardson is a researcher, author and Senior Lecturer at the University of Sussex.

Christian Coinbergh is a Stockholm-based photographer who works in fashion and art.