Page is far from the first gay woman to discover new-found sartorial freedom after coming out. Though I realised I was into girls at around four, it took until 14 to come out, and then 17 to tell my mum. I think she must have realised when I started cutting my hair (with a razor, in the shower) to make my hair like Shane’s from The L Word. “Don’t you want boys to like you?” she asked. And now I wonder, like Page, how many women – straight or not – would benefit from never having to consider what a man – real or imagined – thought of their clothes.
After coming out, excluding time spent at uni in the mid-noughties’ ubiquitous cut-off denim skirts, I’ve stuck to outfits a bloke could wear without being heckled – and which I call butch chic. To me, butch chic is printed shirts without frills and skirts without peplums or lace – or any of those things that look pretty, or pretty uncomfortable depending how you look at it. Functionality takes precedence, with elements taken from queer-friendly subcultures: punkishly torn vests, riot grrrl boots, hip-hop’s baggy T-shirts and grungey jumpers. What’s more, most gay women I know dress using elements of the above; it’s not only a uniform, but a Freemason’s handshake. It’s how we could tell the queer from the straight. So it’s no surprise that Ellen Page prefers a Saint Laurent suit to a pretty dress.
