Avery Trufelman, the acclaimed host of the podcast Articles of Interest, has long possessed a rare gift for dissecting the hidden histories embedded in our closets. In her most ambitious series yet, titled ‘Gear,’ Trufelman pulls at the synthetic threads of our contemporary clothing, revealing a profound and often unsettling truth: the American military has served as the uncredited architect of the modern wardrobe. From the simple cotton T-shirt once deemed underwear to the high-tech, waterproof shell jacket now worn by urban commuters—and the entire aesthetic of Gorpcore—almost every garment we don, Trufelman argues, has a direct lineage tracing back to the laboratories and quartermaster corps of the United States armed forces. This realization forces a confrontation with a stark paradox: we are dressing for a post-climate reality in clothing engineered by an institution globally recognized as a primary polluter, wearing the relics of war as the ultimate expression of comfort, readiness, and modern survival.
The Foundational Blueprints: Militaria in Menswear
Trufelman’s thesis dismantles the comforting myth of civilian fashion invention, revealing how fundamental menswear staples were not born in boutique design studios but forged in the crucible of military necessity. The influence is far more pervasive than the obvious field jacket or aviator sunglasses; it is woven into the very fabric of our everyday lives. Take the humble t-shirt, for example: once strictly considered underwear, it was popularized as a standalone garment by returning World War I soldiers who had grown accustomed to its comfort and practicality under their uniforms. Similarly, the iconic peacoat, a symbol of nautical style, began its life as standard military issue.
The golden age of this fashion democratization occurred in the years following World War II. The surplus stores that sprung up across America became unexpected repositories of high-quality, scientifically designed clothing. As Trufelman notes, this influx of cheap, durable, well-made garments—from classic button-down shirts to sturdy slacks—played a major role in defining the stylish, practical aesthetic of the 1950s American consumer. The problem today is that this robust, accessible resource no longer exists on the same scale. The clothing items that were once available for a few dollars at a local surplus shop are now primarily sourced from high-fashion retailers, turning necessity into a costly luxury and underscoring a deep inequity in access to durable, functional apparel.
The Gorpcore Paradox: From Tactical to Technical Status
Perhaps the most potent illustration of the military’s enduring influence is the rise of Gorpcore, the trend defined by wearing high-tech, performance-driven outdoor gear in strictly urban, non-technical settings. This aesthetic—characterized by brands like Arc’teryx, The North Face, and Patagonia—is inextricably linked to the military-industrial complex. Many of the outdoor industry’s key players, in their early days, developed materials or entire pieces of equipment for military contracts, or continue to produce tactical gear for special forces operations.
The science behind these outdoor clothes—the layering systems, the moisture-wicking properties, the windproof shells—was often developed to keep soldiers alive in extreme conditions. Trufelman finds striking irony in the fact that these military innovations, originally designed for combat and survival in geopolitical hotspots, now define the uniform of the comfortable, secure urbanite. The shell jacket, once protection for a soldier, has become a marker of status—a “Tech Bro” status symbol, indicating an ability to afford high-end, climate-ready security. This shift highlights a powerful cultural exchange where the quest for survival wear, once a universal human need, has become monetized and repurposed as a marker of contemporary class and privilege.
An Innate American Impulse: Dressing for a Manufactured Ruggedness
The fascination with rugged, performance-ready clothing, according to Trufelman, is not a recent phenomenon but a deep-seated cultural impulse. She contends that Americans have been performing a version of “dressing more ruggedly than they are” since the founding of the nation. Whether it was the early settler donning buckskin adapted from Native American designs or a modern citizen wearing a heavy-duty raincoat to walk the dog, this desire to project readiness and self-reliance is “as American as apple pie.”
This impulse is historically tied to notions of masculinity and power—the idea that the American fighting man should embody the scrappy, self-sufficient frontiersman, rather than the heavily uniformed, regimented European soldier. This quest for the perfect functional uniform led the military to adopt a more scientific approach to design. For instance, the legendary Field Jacket was developed after actually surveying soldiers about their needs, resulting in a product that was functional, democratic in its conception, and ultimately, enduringly fashionable. The modern obsession with gear, therefore, is not a fleeting trend, but a continuation of a national myth: using clothing to project an ideal of self-reliance and readiness, even when one’s greatest challenge is commuting on a crowded subway.
The Architecture of Wear: Technology and Ethical Dissonance
The most unsettling revelation of the ‘Gear’ series is how the military has become the invisible architecture of consumer culture through the sheer volume and speed of its technological innovation. Trufelman notes that the concept of layering clothing—a fundamental of winter dressing—was pioneered by the military to manage temperature regulation scientifically. Furthermore, the financial stability provided by the military’s immense purchasing power allows industries to experiment and develop new textiles and materials at a scale that traditional fashion companies cannot match.
This technological dependency creates a strong ethical dissonance. While Trufelman admits her vehement opposition to the military-industrial complex, she acknowledges the human element: the gear is fundamentally designed to keep people—soldiers—warm, protected, and dry. The problem is not the gear itself, but the opaque, massive institutional framework that supplies it. By tracing the zipper or the technical fleece back to its military origins, Trufelman forces the wearer to consider the full, complex history of their clothes—from the initial act of war that created the demand, to the environmental cost of its production, and finally, to its repurposing as a symbol of urban cool. Understanding this full context is the crucial first step toward becoming a more conscious, ethically informed consumer.
