Part II of The Tryhard Trilogy ☆ Read Part I: Is It Cool to Be Weird Yet?
Tryhard culture actually goes wayyyyy back. I wrote an essay about it—kind of—for a fashion history class I did last fall, aptly named Men in Tights. We explored early modern fashion, and how culture influences how we dress. Back when I first did this investigation, I feel like workwear was at its peak in terms of current trends. Now it’s performative male this, performative male that, all over our timelines. I never want to see a Labubu again.
So let me break it down for you. The concept of sprezzatura, a word of Italian origin, refers to the style of studied carelessness—effortless grace—the art of making something difficult look easy. While fashion trends have shifted over time, I think it is safe to say that perceived nonchalance has remained constant, something desirable no matter what shape it takes. Generally speaking, trends oscillate between the contained and impulsive, where stiffness and symmetry begin to “look ridiculous instead of orderly and imposing,” and what is seen as chic, according to fashion historian Anne Hollander, “depends on managing the maintenance of desire […] to make the whole body seem rigid when it had been flexible for a long time.” This so-called “flexibility,” the impulsive “delight in disorder,” is a prime example of the concept of attractive nonchalance. For example, back in the seventeenth century, armour had begun to be obsolete and fashion historians have found that “the most exciting fighting man was the rough-and-ready soldier, clad in baggy breeches,” accompanied by long hair, “affected swagger.”
I looked at Baldesar Castiglione’s The Book of the Courtier, published in the 1500s in Italy, where sprezzatura is first referenced. It’s described as a desirable and necessary trait of any courtier, a combination of grace and nonchalance. This grace that the courtiers needed to embody was important because it “…makes them not only pleasing but admirable to everyone,” causing “all who are watching them to believe that they are almost incapable of making a mistake.” It can be said that nonchalance is the opposite of affectation, but the courtier’s illusion of nonchalance “stems from a desire to appear very accomplished,” focusing intently on outward appearances and how they are perceived by others, making an immense effort to “impress upon the mind of onlookers that he who performs well with so much facility must possess even greater skill than this, and that, if he were to devote care and effort to what he does, he could do it far better.”
This perception of perfection is fascinating because of the dedication toward the perceived effortlessness of every action. Do you see these parallels with today’s tryhard culture? It’s always been about nonchalance, despite it being a buzzword on our screens this year. While Castiglione’s Courtier demonstrated the traits of a “worthy nobility,” it also served as a handbook for the rising middle class, showing that family position does not just maketh the man, and this notion of “seeming” would suffice. It acted as a crucial guide in aesthetics and personality that shaped people regardless of their social standing.
According to Castiglione, the nature of an affectation is something that is designed to impress—sincerity did not matter at all in his world, and he advocated for a “career based not on ability but solely on presenting a pleasing image through deception. Sounds familiar, hey? He also believed in mediocrita, a sort of golden moderation when it comes to demonstrating this nonchalance: an excessive display of skill would be perceived as arrogance, a faux pas as the courtier serves to both please and impress. Take notes, performative males! Dial it down!
As I mentioned, when I first started this research, I thought the concept of sprezzatura in the present is the commodification of functional workwear, as seen in trends like gorpcore and workwear. Namely, the act of not working hard at all to create the perception of someone who does. Clothing traditionally made for labourers, those spending long hours working in potentially extreme weather conditions have become mainstream, and items like chore coats, barn jackets, and Gore-Tex have become wardrobe staples. I’ll acknowledge that these trends may have a separate ethos, like the inherent appreciation for the outdoors that gorpcore embodies, most of the time the wearers of these functional clothes are not actually participants in what their clothing is designed for. I know some Arcteryx jackets are never leaving the concrete jungle, and the most work those Carhartt pants are doing starts and stops at repairs around the house.
This appropriation brings up the question of intention: is it a response to the general decline of clothing quality, and a turn toward purchasing quality garments that will last a long time? Are the participants in this trend aware of the cultural history behind it? I’ll admit, I love workwear and gorpcore-style clothing. It’s usually flattering and unisex in nature, working with the body rather than against it. While some people are definitely consumers from a functional standpoint, there is a rise in the idea of “blue collar cosplay” particularly in menswear. This rise in popularity has resulted in drastic price increases for these functional clothes that manual labour professions still wear, and in many collaborations and recreations from couture fashion houses. On celebrities, and on the runaways of Fashion Week, it can come off like a costume, and class appropriation. I think it’s up to each individual to parse through their own relationship to class and clothing—there are no straightforward answers.
Now, with the performative male, the idea of “pleasing image through deception” and being disingenuous is what rings true for this tote bag-slinging, Clairo-listening, matcha-drinking man. The need to impress remains more pertinent than ever as we exist in a surveillance society, where everyone is watching, all the time—or at least one is led to think that way. Things are more relaxed now than in the days of the Court, but in some ways this dedication to the nonchalance in courtier times could be seen as some sort of precursor parallel to the obsession of perception in social media.
Self-awareness and authenticity are the commonalities between these past and present tryhards. For courtiers, the fact that their personality is a highly-tailored act, and for present-day core-fashion enthusiasts, the reality that they are not participants in the field in which they dress. A spectacular example of this are the various fashion-related meme pages on Instagram—demonstrates the consciousness of the signalling of the style.
Authenticity is impossible in courtier culture, as their every move is highly restrained and premeditated. In terms of workwear and gorpcore enthusiasts, they are looking to brands that have a long history, and who retain a sense of authenticity as their products have remained the same—functional. Perhaps the idea of consistency, reliability, and overall timelessness is what makes it so desirable. The concept of desirability hinges on the have and have-nots. These two trends share the notion that certain things are off-limits, as The Book of the Courtier made impacts beyond the upper class, and the moment of fashion that we exist in is arguably one in which has departed from the idea that certain styles of clothing aren’t available to those who won’t come by them naturally. In other words, wear whatever the hell you want.
I think that sprezzatura has evolved from the notion of working hard to be perceived as if one is doing things effortlessly, to putting in no work to seem like one is working very hard. What is seen as a sign of privilege has simply changed over time. A signifier of privilege was once the uncomfortable clothes the upper class would wear—look at any old museum portrait and you’ll agree, they so badly wanted to demonstrate how “civilized” they were, not needing to toil away doing manual labour. But the nature of privilege shifted as the twentieth century brought the ability to travel, spending time in the sun, so now the signifier is the ability to work hard for fun.
Performative males act in this way to gain the privilege, so to speak, of social validation, attention and approval, and romantic interest. Their privilege circles back to the courtiers, as they seem to say, look how knowledgeable and in tune with the times I am! They use their male privilege to their advantage, praised for minimal effort. Power to any man that genuinely has these interests—subvert those traditional expectations, king—but most of the time, there’s nothing real behind the signifiers.