Course:CSIS200/2024/The Monocle: A Lesbian Symbol of Belonging and Exclusion

Author's Bio

My name is Hazel Fosket-Hydes (she/her), and I am a second year at UBC, majoring in psychology. I was born in Montreal, QC, raised in Berkeley, CA, and moved to Vancouver, BC for school. Growing up I was surrounded by an incredibly strong network of queer family and friends, who would tell me about their experiences growing up and leading queer lives in various historical and political contexts. The idea of queer symbols was something that I heard a lot in their stories. The way that, in less than welcoming environments, queer people have communicated their sexuality to one another, and the importance of these symbols in the creation of queer community. I always found these conversations incredibly fascinating, driving my interest in the history of sexuality, which is one of the reasons I took this class.

A while ago, a family friend told me about some photos she had come across of lesbians in Paris in the 1930s, wearing monocles. She was referring to one of the photos Brassaï had taken from inside the Parisian Lesbian bar Le Monocle. I found this trend fascinating, but did not look very closely at it until this year, when I decided to research it for my project. Through my research, I uncovered so many layers of this trend, finding myself in rabbit hole after rabbit hole, the surface of which I have written about below. This article was incredibly interesting to research, and I am super excited to share my work with you all.

Terms

*definitions from Oxford English Dictionary

Monocle	An eyeglass for one eye, worn gripped between the cheek and brow bone.
Sartorial	Relating to style of dress
Aristocracy	The highest class in certain societies, especially those holding hereditary titles or offices.
Working-class	The socioeconomic group consisting of people who are employed for wages.
Interwar Period	The period between WWI and WWII, 1918-1939
Modernist Period	19th and 20th century, refers to the global and societal movement which took place during this period.

Introduction

Brassai, French-Hungarian photographer who who documented Le Monocle

On Paris’ Edgar-Quinet Boulevard, in the 1920s or 30s, there was an infamous bar called Le Monocle. Inside was a scene of thriving lesbian love. Brassaï, a French-Hungarian photographer who captured some of the only images we have of this bar, described it this way: “women dancing slowly together, pressed close against each other, their breasts touching.” Le Monocle was one of the first exclusively lesbian cabarets, a space where women could gather together, relax, dance, commune, and be free to explore and express their sapphic love. Inside this space, women sported both gowns and suits, expressing themselves through their clothes in ways that challenged the gender norms of the day. And true to its name, many patrons of Le Monocle wore a monocle. Fashion trends like the monocle were critical to the formation of the lesbian community that emerged in interwar Europe. The monocle in particular became a European lesbian symbol in the 20s and 30s, emulating masculinity and rebellion. This trend was observed primarily in Paris, London, and Berlin, however some sources more broadly describe it as a Western European lesbian symbol. Appearing in magazines and portraiture of lesbian figureheads, the monocle quickly became one of the most significant sapphic symbols of its time, and one that historians use to this day when discussing lesbian life of this era. Its use promoted solidarity amidst

lesbians, indicating sexuality and stimulating community. However, as powerful as this symbol was, it was by no means a universal one.  

A Brief History of the Monocle

Radclyffe Hall by Charles Buchell

The first use of the monocle as a sartorial trend was within the aristocracy, among which it remained almost exclusively throughout the 1800s and into the early 1900s. During this time, it became an undeniable symbol of wealth and sophistication, as well as an indication of masculinity. The modernist period brought a series of reinventions of this accessory, with numerous groups adopting it as their own. For feminists of the early 1900s, wearing the monocle meant a rejection of the status quo, the masculine denotations of the piece became seen as a tool for the deviation from the femininity they were meant to embrace. In the 1920s and 30s, lesbians adopted the symbol, for very similar reasons. The monocle, and the identity it came to symbolize, played a huge role in shaping lesbian communities.

The monocle has also played a huge role in shaping our modern understanding and knowledge of lesbian life and culture from the early 20th century, particularly in Europe. Due to the political context of this time, and the general hostility towards queer individuals, there are very limited representations of queer life that we can observe. Additionally, lesbians have historically been largely underrepresented. This means that many lesbian stories are lost to history, with no one documenting them. However, due to the known usage of monocles among lesbians, by looking at the women who wore monocles, we are able to construct a narrative of what it was like to be a lesbian in this context– both in day to day life, as well as in general attitudes towards the community.  

Una Vincenzo (Lady Troubridge) featured wearing a monocle in a portrait by Romaine Brooks

Perhaps one of the most infamous monocle-sporting lesbians, as well as one of the first to adopt it, was Una Troubridge., a British sculptor and translator. For her, the monocle was an everyday article of clothing, featured in most of the images of her that we see today. Radclyffe Hall, Troubridge’s lover– and author of one of the most influential lesbian novels, The Well of Loneliness– can also be seen sporting a monocle. Sylvia von Harden, a German journalist and Poet, is also pictured on multiple occasions in this article, including in Otto Dix’s Portrait of Sylvia Von Harden. Additionally, one of the women in Brassaï’s photograph "Lesbian Couple at Le Monocle Paris (1932)" is confirmed to be French athlete Violette Morris. Anaïs Nin brings up her own experience going to Le Monocle in one of her famously published journals:

“Le Monocle with Eduardo and Chiquito. As soon as I entered I saw a woman dressed like a man who attracted me. I danced with her. I asked her name. ‘Fred’. That was a shock. But I thought a lot about her today and I want to see her again.” (p.181)

As many trends do, the monocle also created queer spaces, including the Parisian lesbian bar Le Monocle. It is through these spaces that community can be cultivated and grown, creating somewhere for lesbians to escape from the constraints of the heteronormativity of the outside world. The importance of queer spaces is highlighted through the interviews conducted by Eleanor Formby in Exploring LGBT Spaces and Communities: Contrasting Identities, Belongings and Wellbeing. Many of these interviews paint scene spaces as safe places, where one could find the acceptance and comfort that is otherwise lacking in non-LGBT spaces. In the formation of Le Monocle, the sartorial trend of the monocle created this for Parisian lesbians.

Class Exclusion

The monocle as a symbol represents a beautiful history of lesbian love, freedom, and livelihood. The women pictured in Brassaï’s photos from within Le Monocle tell a story of queer community. The fact that we can look back and see into an often forgotten history because of this symbol is important and valuable. However, an important question remains: who is missing from this narrative? When we look at this particular version of lesbian history, whose history are we really looking at?

Una Troubridge, Radclyffe Hall, Sylvia Von Harden, Violette Morris, Anaïs Nin: the most prominent lesbian figures behind this trend, and the source of most of our information on it, are all upper class white women. The majority of these women grew up in the bourgeoisie or aristocracy, and all of them had both a name for themselves as well as a stable financial independence prior to their adoption of the monocle. These are the women whose stories are told by the monocle.

For many other lesbians, the monocle was not accessible. In her interviews with self-identified lesbians who lived in Britain during the interwar period, Katrina Rolley found that there were class differences when it came to the way her interviewees observed the monocle. When asked about the queer symbolism of the article, Ceri, an upper class lesbian, said that "'if you could manage a monocle, that was very popular'", whereas Eleanor, a working class lesbian, replied "'Oh no - no, I don't think so. They were very expensive, I expect'". This difference in the way Ceri and Eleanor perceived the symbolism of the monocle highlights the reality of its accessibility.

monocle

While the price of the monocle fluctuated, at times becoming ‘accessible’ beyond the upper-class, one's ability to partake in this trend was dependent on many factors beyond just price. For one, the monocle was infamously difficult to manage, as described in Hentea's Monocles on Modernity. He argues that “‘This natural superiority in the handling of the monocle could be inverted by the powerful, who could afford not to be fussy about their manners” (p. 221). The monocle was not something that could be casually worn, and thus tended to be considered a luxury product. Thus, the ability to partake in this trend relied on whether one had the means to purchase this otherwise useless luxury product. Additionally, the very nature of material trends such as the monocle creates an accessibility issue. Taylor's That's Not Really my Scene: Working Class Lesbians in (and out of) Place addresses

this issue, discussing the ways in which material trends exclude working class lesbians from queer spaces. These trends create barriers for those without the financial means to buy into them. To buy an item, especially one such as the monocle, requires a dispensable income. Even if the item is priced in a way where working-class lesbians could theoretically buy them, purchasing a non necessity such as a monocle, when money is already tight, is not an option for many.

The trend of the monocle among women in general was an act of rebellion, an antithesis to the status quo. Its gendered status, for many feminists and lesbians who took it up, was the reason to claim it, a rejection of gender norms and restrictions. However, for working-class lesbians, this was less possible. Already, working class lesbians faced challenges pertaining to the intersectionality of their sexuality, gender, and their class. To further marginalize themselves, removing whatever acceptance they retained from societal norms, was something many working-class women simply could not afford to do. The prominence of the symbol as a significator of sexuality further enforced this class distinction. As a well known indication of sexual identity, not just to other lesbians but also to mainstream society, to wear a monocle was to broadcast one's lesbian identity. For upper class lesbians such as Troubridge, Hall, and Harden, this unapologetic portrayal of sexuality was powerful. Their socioeconomic position allowed them to embrace the controversiality of their identity and presentation, as they did not have to face the economic consequences of outness that those who did not hold their same position did. However, for lower-class lesbians, the consequences of being perceived as lesbian were far more dangerous.

Advertisement for Le Monocle, 1936.

During the interwar period, though not illegal, female homosexuality was not regarded kindly, with both economic and sometimes criminal repercussions to being perceived as a lesbian. The loss of opportunity as a result of being perceived as a lesbian was far less dangerous for women with privilege than for those of lower classes. As Rolley argues, “Radclyffe Hall and Gluck, who had the advantages of wealth and leisure, developed distinctive and highly polished styles of self-presentation. Gluck's wealth allowed her to buy the clothes she wished to wear, whilst also giving her the freedom to ignore, and even to enjoy, the reactions they produced in others.” These reactions pertain to more than just societal acceptance and perception. Sautman describes how for working-class women, these reactions could be detrimental to one's economic survival. In one interview with a young lesbian factory worker, Sautman states that, "While willing to face taunts and jeers from her co-workers on the job, she found her low pay and the impossibility of promotion or professional advancement as a woman worse than periodic harassment.” To partake in sartorial trends such as the monocle, a well known lesbian symbol, was to put a target on ones back, exposing oneself to these economic consequences, which could include lower pay, or difficulty maintaining a job completely. In addition to this, Chaplin highlights the possibility of legal concequences to such trends. Female homosexuality was not illegal during the interwar period in Paris, however lesbians were disproportionately targeted and arrested for other crimes. By looking at police records involving homosexuality from this period, Chaplin found a much higher arrest rate of masculine presenting lesbians. This likely was not a risk that lower-class women wanted to or could take in the same way upper class lesbians could.

Due to the potential consequences to partaking in the sartorial trend of the monocle, we see that the main participants were the wealthy– women who could afford these consequences. Eleanor Medhurst, a lesbian fashion historian, discusses this in Carabiners and Violet Tattoos, claiming that the trend of the monocle "only existed within the upper-class lesbian circles of European cities, a rich woman’s accessory that lesbians happened to be particularly fond of." She delves into this idea further in her interview with Dressed: A Fashion History, where she discusses her newly released book on lesbian fashion history, "Unsuited":

Implications

The monocle was said to be one of "the most recognizable and readable signs of lesbian culture in Paris", and its role as such is a key element of our current understanding and knowledge of lesbian life and culture from this time period. The women seen wearing this piece serve as our main representations of what it meant to be a lesbian in interwar Paris. The scenes captured by Brassaï from within Le Monocle, of lesbians in monocles living their best lives, form our understanding of what it was like to be a lesbian during this time in Europe, of the freedoms and options available. However, this is not a comprehensive representation. Looking closer at the monocle, it becomes apparent that the fashion trend, its accompanying spaces and symbols, belonged to a select group of lesbians. Due to the nature of the monocle and its class implications, the main participants in this trend were the wealthy. Of course, it is impossible to discuss class without recognizing its intersections with race. Just as the faces behind this trend were entirely wealthy women, they were also all white. Those who were wealthy in 1930s Paris were predominately white, thus those able to take part in this trend were as well.

The stories of lesbian life in interwar Europe gleaned from looking back at the monocle, are the stories of upper class white women who had the privilege to challenge the status quo in ways that required resources. As this trend is one of our only, and certainly the most prominent, representations of lesbian life in this historical context, our understanding of lesbian history is limited to this particular type of lesbian. This erases the stories of millions of lesbians who did not fit into this group, many of which we will never hear.