18 August 1 -7, 2024 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents Goth Days of Summer How goths deal with the actual and political climate in Texas. BY SIMON PRUITT I n “Hot Hot Hot,” The Cure sang, “I’m dancing, screaming, itching, squealing fevered/Feeling hot hot hot.” Though the uncharacteristically groovy song was left off the setlist, Robert Smith’s lyrics ran true when they played a blistering hot concert at Dos Equis Pavilion last sum- mer. “It might be time to state the obvious: It’s fucking hot, isn’t it?” Smith said before the first of two encores. It was obvious. At an outdoor show in May, short sleeves and short shorts were our ticket to surviving. But when we looked around, it seemed like no one else got the memo. Trench coats instead of tanks. Corsets over crop tops. Sweat-smeared white makeup and black eyeliner into a swirl. It looked like hell — and every goth there would’ve taken that as a compliment. What do you do if you’re a goth in the Texas heat? Would you rather let your body suffer from the heat or let your soul suffer from putting on a pair of shorts? The scene at Dos Equis and Dallas’ brutal 2024 summer inspired us to ask North Texas goths the same question: How do you find a balance between self-expression and self- preservation? “On those 100-degree days I do wish I could dress up fully but I don’t want to be constantly sweating and dying just for a cool fit,” says self-described goth Vivian Verne. Verne’s arms are peppered with sleek tat- toos, always on display at her job as a tattoo artist. Her hair is jet black, fit for dark-in- spired modeling she does on the side. She knows her look and sticks to it. But she knows Texas, too, so she’s learned to adapt. “The heat in Texas definitely makes it dif- ficult to wear what I want,” she says. “I’ve had to cut down on how many layers I can wear when I go out and wear skirts rather than pants to keep cool. Luckily there are ways to appear fully dressed up without wearing too much. I’ve bought a lot of light clothing that I can still layer and accessorize. Things like lace skirts, crop tops or lace tank tops, shawls and kimonos are my go to for the hotter weather, though there are days when I will settle for black shorts and a T-shirt.” Maddie Fritz can’t compromise so easily. She plays bass in the goth four-piece Sevit, with her hair standing nearly three inches tall and her outfits drawing her an orbit of eyes. “I get it down to about an hour and a half if I’m lucky,” she says. “But it’s taken me over two hours at some points.” Fritz describes her style as glam goth, mix- ing elements of traditional goth fashion with the dazzle of ‘80s stars like David Bowie. It’s an ambitious combination, and she’s refined her process down to a science. “First I crimp my hair, and as I’m crimping my hair I’ll hairspray it,” Fritz says. “Then I’ll start teasing it up strand by strand. I usually do it the night before a show and sleep on it, then tease it back up the next day. It can last anywhere between three to five days, but some people do wear their bat’s nest for about a week.” Sevit was founded by keyboardist Cam- eron Brand, who’s been creating goth proj- ects in Dallas for decades. “My wardrobe has always been consis- tent,” Brand says. “I usually wear a long black coat. Everything’s always been black with me, black jeans, black shirts. I hate putting on the makeup, it’s a chore. I usually put on the white face and heavy eyeliner when I’m feel- ing really spooky. When people see me they’re like, ‘That’s Cameron.’” It’s certainly Cameron, but it’s certainly hot too. “I hate summer,” Brand says. “I feel like I’m gonna be set on fire.” The physical Texas climate is the main ob- stacle here, but the social climate is another. Goths in Texas are used to the stares. “I don’t mind when people look at me weird,” Fritz says. “I’m pumping my gas while my hair is all teased up and people are looking at me like, ‘What is she doing? It’s not Halloween.’” Lilith LaVey took a little longer to get com- fortable with the attention. She’s a recurring character in the DFW goth nightlife, where she goes by “Kinkerbelle.” She goes out in bi- kinis, fishnets and corsets, taking time to ac- climate to the attention. “It was tough to get used to because there’s a lot of people who will still look at you sideways in public,” says LaVey. “You have to know that eyes are on you and you have to be OK with that.” The stares are just one thing for LaVey. She’s dealt with a number of hostile interac- tions related to her appearance. “Sometimes they’ll specifically target you because they know you have certain political views,” she says. “People telling me to find God, people telling me that they’ll rape me straight.” LaVey remains undeterred and frequents Dallas’ most popular goth institutions: PAN- OPTIKON and The Church. She takes a more liberal approach to goth fashion in the heat, wearing more conventional hot-weather at- tire with a dark angle to it. “For the past few months and for the next few months after, it’s gonna be a lot of bikinis, thin, breathable corsets, fishnets and lacy mesh stuff,” LaVey says. “It’s too hot to have to be wearing, like, actual clothes.” The Church is a goth-themed DJ night that’s been held at various venues for over 30 years. Earlier this year, a documentary about its storied past premiered at the Dallas Inter- national Film Festival, titled Dark Sanctuary. PANOPTIKON is the second home for Dallas goths. It’s an event currently hosted at Sons of Hermann Hall, presented by a rotat- ing lineup of DJs including Byron Laszlo, who goes by Lord Byron. The Scene in Dallas B eing in the scene for so long, Laszlo is privy to most goth’s personal politics. “I’m married to a guy. There’s only two parties, and there’s one that absolutely doesn’t want the best for me,” he says. “It’s hard for me to look at someone and not think these things when I know how they’re voting. It feels like they’re voting against me.” For Laszlo, balancing the political climate as a host proves to be just as important as the physical one. “I have to put that aside in the space,” Laszlo says. “Even if we don’t see eye-to-eye, there is this commonality between us. I just want to have a safe, welcoming space in the alternative community.” As an attendee, LaVey noticed the same thing. “I accept that Texas is a red state and probably always will be, but the backbone of alternative subcultures has always been polit- ical,” she says. “People coming into these spaces and not realizing that is ridiculous.” It’s true that alternative subcultures are rooted in politics most of the time, but the ex- act origin of goth isn’t linear. In the 12th century, gargoyles overlooked buildings with dark stained glass and sharp pointed peaks. Goth had a look. In the 1960s, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins began his perfor- mances by rising out of a casket and bran- dishing a skull on the tip of his cane, ushering in the first wave of traditional goth iconogra- phy. Goth had a feeling. In 1979, British rock band Bauhaus wrote the vampiric “Bela Lu- gosi’s Dead,” their dark 9-minute magnum opus that inspired countless bands to come. Goth had a sound. At the time, it was called post-punk. Now, it’s seen as the beginning of its own sub-genre spanning over 40 years. That makes three origin stories to choose from, and none of them are political. But in the 16th century, Italian painter Giorgio Vasari famously described Gothic ar- chitecture as “barbaric,” leading to the style being generally discontinued and at times de- stroyed. Even though Hawkins’ “I Put A Spell On You” became a sensation, he was never taken seriously as a vocalist compared to his peers. The campiness that made him famous was pushed too far, with songs such as “Con- stipation Blues” in 1969 turning him into a schlocky horror sideshow. After Bauhaus inspired traditional goth music and fashion, goths became the target of the “Satanic Panic” in the late ‘80s and ‘90s. In 1999, Columbine High School shooters Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold were labeled as goth, launching an onslaught of anti-goth sentiment in tabloids and churches. Nine centuries from the first glimpse of goth culture, it seems that general society has still never truly understood it. When something goes against the grain in America, there are only two outcomes: criti- cism or commercialization. Goths had been criticized enough, but when the negative sen- timent reached its peak, a business opportu- nity emerged. By way of nihilistic lyrics, black clothes and heavy white makeup, Marilyn Manson became the face of goth culture by the late ‘90s. His ascension seemed to bastardize the culture, cherry-picking its most sensational elements in order to shock his way to promi- nence. To some, the ease of becoming a com- mercialized periphery of goth culture cheapened the essence of what the move- ment was supposed to be. “I see the crowds at PANOPTIKON adjust with wearing less and lighter clothes,” Laszlo says. “Fishnets are a staple for everyone year- round as well as good hair and makeup. As far ▼ Music Vera “Velma” Hernandez We know you had questions about how hot the goth outfits can get in summer.
