In the introduction 'Legendary Leather', Farren points out how, in western culture, there is no getting away from the fact that the black leather jacket is regarded as something bad.

The black leather jacket has always been the uniform of the bad. Hitler's Gestapo, the Hell's Angels, the Black Panthers, punk rockers, gay bar cruisers, rock 'n' roll animals and the hardcore mutations of the eighties all adopted it as their own.

Such is the emotive power of the black leather jacket, it was not until half way through the first series of Happy Days, after the Fonz had established himself as a "...universally lovable character that he could quietly slip into his leather jacket without objection or comment". He had initially been ordered to wear a pale blue windcheater by the network's Standards and Practices Department. Also, in the early 1980s even the NYPD phased out the use of the black leather jacket by its officers in an attempt to soften its image. Apparently storm troopers swaggering the streets of New York smacked too much of Hitler's Gestapo, even for the most innocent of citizens.

On the subject of Nazis and leather, Farren somewhat amusingly points out how, even prior to Nazism, the Germans have always had a propensity towards leather ware; "For centuries, Bavarian males have cavorted in lederhosen, much to the astonishment of outsiders". However, by the time the Nazis adopted variations of the black leather jacket it had taken on a more sinister aura as "they firmly cemented the relationship between menace and black leather". Having already pointed out that the black leather jacket is perceived as something bad by western society, Farren disregards the idea that there's something in the make-up of all manner of social misfits, malcontents, rock musicians and police officers that furnishes them with a proclivity towards black leather jackets. Instead he puts forward a notion that what we may be dealing with here is something more mystical.

We have to conjecture that the garment is somehow able to invest the wearer with a certain power and maybe even bring out the aggression for which people in black leather jackets are significantly famous. Are we faced with the possibility that we may be dealing with twentieth century magic?

Whilst still on the subject of magic and mysticism, it is worth harking back to the Nazi connection. It is common knowledge the Nazis were obsessed with "dark, Aryan, quasi-mysticism and an unholy passion for symbols and regalia", apropos the swastika, which was traditionally a symbol associated with sun, fertility and good luck, until it was adopted by the Nazis who inverted it, and in doing so ultimately reversed its original meaning to darkness, death and absolute evil. And we all know that the Nazis loved their black leather jackets too! If you find this idea of the black leather jacket working some kind of twentieth century magic on its wearer a little far fetched, it certainly makes what could've been, in someone elses hands, a rather pedestrian story about just another article of clothing far more interesting and romantic. Anyway, what's wrong with the magic theme? After all, if you've ever owned a black leather jacket, which of you hasn't on owning your first leather, like Mick, "immediately felt different". You do feel special, as if all eyes are on you and wary with it too. However, having worn one myself on and off for more than two decades, I must admit I don't quite get the same feeling of exaltation as I did when I was a callow, pubescent, wanna-be punk rocker. Nevertheless, it does still become a second skin, and provides that extra bit of protection, both psychologically and physically. Not too unlike a modern day suit of armour then. Further comparisons between the black leather jacket as a modern day form of armour and a medieval suit of armour are not as fanciful as they might sound, and Farren points out how seersucker offers little protection against bottles, knives or razors if engaged in a street or bar room brawl. Similarly, a severe case of road rash is more often avoided in a spill if leathers are worn. In addition you only have to look at the analogy between the medieval suit of armour and surcoat of heraldry and the modern day motorcycle gangs' use of leather jacket and denim cut-off with colours.

The relationship between black leather and the greasy, punk hoodlum, and motorcycle outlaw don't go unexamined and particular attention is paid to the post-war years and the emergence of Hell's Angels and other Outlaw motorcycle gangs in the US, and the development of youth culture in Britain, in particular mods and rockers, and later punks. By the mid 1950s Hollywood had picked up on the allure of the leather jacket to disaffected youth, and movie stars such as James Dean and Marlon Brando had elevated the status of the black leather jacket to that of powerful cultural symbol. Ironically, Dean never wore one in any of his films, but is probably more associated with one more than Brando having attained rock and roll immortality by killing himself at an early age in a car crash. However, Brando's portrayal of Johnny in The Wild One must still go down as one of the defining moments in the cultural history of the black leather jacket, so much so that despite the relative lack of overt violence in the film, it was banned from UK movie screens between its original release in 1954 and 1967.

Besides the obvious link between the black leather jacket and movie stars, such as Dean and Brando, Farren also focuses attention on those other icons of popular culture - rock musicians. Two of Farren's own favourite musicians are singled out for particular attention when examining the symbiosis between rock and roll and black leather. Gene Vincent and Jim Morrison are two classic, bad ass rock 'n' roll rebels with whose life stories we are all familiar with, but if it were not for their black leather clad personas would the myth and legend surrounding them have had half as much potency? They were rock and rollers whose use of black leather epitomise the spirit of rock 'n' roll rebellion, an image that repeats itself each generation. Or put more succintly by Mick:

If you draw a line from Gene Vincent through Jim Morrison and then project it into the seventies, you arrive at Sid Vicious...in his ripped black jeans, black leather jacket, torn t-shirt...he'd taken this particular school of rock star image to a minimalist extreme.

It goes without saying that a history of the black leather jacket is not complete without mentioning the relationship between black leather and S&M, another of Mick's favourite themes, at least if some of the sex scenes in his novels are anything to go by. Here he delves into the psycho-sexual dynamics involved in the relationship between black leather and S&M, which in a nutshell means that a visual, tactile, and symbolic combination of black leather makes for a heady cocktail of sexual intoxication and power.

Just as black leather on the street can transform the teenage punk into Billy the Kid, black leather in the bedroom can change a systems analyst into the Princess of Darkness. The basis of any S&M relationship is a completely simplified analog of a simple power structure.

Farren argues that the lengthy digression into the realms of of S&M is necessary:

to lay the groundwork for why black leather clothes play such a major role as costumes in a sexual underground that...has been an increasing part of the risque edge of the mainstream.

This increasing shift of black leather into the mainstream is examined by Farren more fully in the last chapter when he explains that by the mid 1980s the black leather jacket was not just the preserve of so called deviants, rock musicians, S&M freaks, or gay bar cruisers who lived outside the boundaries of mainstream society. The haute couture houses had plundered street styles and combined it with fetishist imagery to bring the black leather jacket into the mainstream. On a similar thread Volvo driving yuppies also seem, somewhat hilariously, to have been charmed by the allure of the black leather jacket, but whilst any number of different colours or styles of leather jacket came into vogue in the 1980s, none can touch the black leather jacket for the ultimate kudos.

Regardless of what viewpoint you take over the black leather jacket, whether you see it as a utilitarian protective garment, totemic talisman, mere fashion accessory, kinky sex-wear or whatever, there is no doubt that it is one of the most potent and enduring popular culture symbols of the twentieth century. Mick Farren has more than capably demonstrated this by providing a witty, informative, and well illustrated history that will appeal to the both the casual reader and the more fanatic culture vulture, and if you can get hold of a copy with a black leatherette and silver embossed cover even better!

RD April 2001