The turtleneck is nothing but chic manipulation

Elizabeth Holmes took the black turtleneck with her on her firey fall from grace ... but it shall be reborn.

Elizabeth Holmes took the black turtleneck with her on her firey fall from grace ... but it shall be reborn.

The "little black dress" is dead. The turtle neck is the most versatile item of clothing one can possess in these post pandemic days.

Show me something else that is modest, yet cosy, yet sexy (and unisex) all at the same time.

But unlike other wardrobe staples and styles that have been relegated to the dustbin of history (I think of you often 'fabric belt' phase), the turtle neck is due for a renaissance. 

This dawned on me as I slipped a thin black woolen option over my t-shirt in a busy CBD Uniqlo, my long hair still stuck in the neck-hole. I turned to the mirror and recoiled.

“I look like Elizabeth Holmes,” I said to my boyfriend, in a voice two octaves lower than my own - as she would have.

He brushed the premise off. But I knew.

Elizabeth Holmes in her signature black turtleneck, modeled after Steve Jobs.

Important people gave Holmes money for a “revolutionary” blood test machine that didn’t work, fine. But now, Holmes had ruined the black turtleneck for me. 

(And, it’s a well-known and canvassed fact that if you wear any other colour turtleneck, you look like a Wiggle.)

The turtleneck is a serious piece of clothing. Utilitarian, moody, considered, ambiguous.

Over its history, people have weaponised the black turtleneck, which began as sports attire for 19th century polo players, and used it as a tool for chic manipulation.

It’s been worn by disruptors, activists, feminists, sex symbols - people with things to say and little time to get dressed in the morning.

Before there was Elizabeth Holmes, there was Steve Jobs. Holmes’ female-tech-god “uniform” was famously modeled after his. While a t-shirt is slobbish and a shirt is archaic, a turtle-neck is elegant, revered. Jobs' black turtlenecks, of which he had about 100, were made-to-order by Japanese designer and friend Issey Miyake.

Apple CEO Steve Jobs in 2010. Picture: Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

In a world far from its tech-disrupting adopters, the black turtleneck was worn by subversives and activists, such as the Black Panthers, in the 50s and 60s. In this context, a non-descript, un-gendered black silhouette took attention away from the person and projected it onto the task at hand - dismantling the racist systems that oftentimes killed them.

A still from Agnes Varda's short Black Panthers (1968).

Andy Warhol’s art was all about pop culture, high vs low brow, repetition and bright colours but his staple in the 60s (and beyond) was the black turtleneck. The turtleneck has the spirit of a stern word. It settled the whimsy of his blonde shaggy wig and black aviator specs. 

A self-portrait of Andy Warhol posing in a turtleneck and sunglasses, 1986.

Marilyn Monroe made the black turtleneck sexy when she was intimately pictured in her home in 1953 by Life photographer Alfred Aisenstaedt. To this day, the juxtaposition of the high-neck, form-fitting sweater pairs modesty and sensuality in a way that no other garment can.

The photo.

The prize for most frivolous turtleneck goes to Dwayne “Sir Rock” Johnson. It was the 90s #tbt that launched a thousand memes. Even now, if you wear a necklace over a black turtleneck sweater you are probably giving Dwayne. 

No thanks to Holmes, the black turtleneck, with its many personalities and disciples, shall be reborn.