Treasures of the Last Future

Light emits from the garment itself rather than from a disco ball on the ceiling of a club tucked away within the cityscape. This description could pertain to an assortment of Peter Tully’s creations including Ceremonial Coat for Grand Diva of Paradise Garage 1980 or Delauney delight, waistcoast 1977 from the National Gallery of Victoria collection. Tully enables his wearers to become the holder of visibility through the lens of queerness and amplifies voices that have historically been silenced. What does it mean to reflect and refract that light? What does it mean to become an active agent within artistic and political spheres?

Peter Tully poses these questions by taking wearable art to the next level, both materially and conceptually, within his Early flight attendant’s vest 1990. Showcased in the Sydney Powerhouse Museum’s Treasures of the Last Future exhibition of the same year, the full-colour spectrum of the vest recalls the gay rainbow flag and the shining optics of a dance floor.¹ It captures the celebration of gay pride that Tully championed as the first artistic director of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, with its distinct aesthetic of all things camp. Tully proposes a uniform and armour for past, present and future generations of queer individuals who identify as part of a global diaspora.² Wearers worldwide are empowered to combat sexism and homophobia through forms of gay male dress that go beyond the limits of mere costume. Tully was known to be an avid traveller and frequently visited New York City after receiving funding from the Australia Council to take up residence there for a year in 1979. New York City, the metropolitan centre of international gay male life at the time and its influential underground bar, Paradise Garage, motivated Tully to contribute to a worldwide revolution demanding greater acceptance.

By the end of the 1970s, the gender-neutral alternative of flight attendant had largely taken preference over terms such as hostess or stewardess. The aisles and galleys of aeroplanes became a new and overlooked venue for gay community building.³ These spaces played the same role as bars, a place in which individuals could belong and embrace their same-sex desires for the first time. Situated at new heights, flight attendants in the United States successfully took legal action within Diaz v Pan Am to protect the work rights of people with HIV/AIDS by scrutinising gender discrimination laws. The queerness of the plane, a symbol of progress and modernity, translates to the title of Tully’s vest and its literal material properties. With an array of kitsch materials used—from plastic and cotton, to metallic thread and lamé—Tully does not subscribe to the norm as it is more than just a vest he constructs; it is a political statement and embodied visuality that challenges the conventions of heteronormativity in high-key colour.

Just as Peter Tully blurs the boundaries between art, craft and fashion through wearable art, gay flight attendants blur geographical and cultural boundaries to reflect the fluidity of sexual identity. The graphic plastic tiles of Tully’s Early flight attendant’s vest that he acquired from his time in New York, are more than just the life of the party or a midnight flight; they abolish a sense of temporality as reflections of one’s external environment are never fixed but always in flux. Identity is always changing and so will the viewer’s perception when looking at Tully’s ‘vest’ under urban artificial light. That is the beauty of Tully’s artistry and its endless possibilities. We can agree that the plane we are on board is heading in the right direction but with many hours to go. 'We are not yet queer, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality'⁴; just look out the window and see. By inscribing his name into the lining of the print fabric, Tully unapologetically takes up space. This optical masterpiece will continue to challenge younger generations and encourage them to keep paving the way to a destination of liberation.

Next stop: a queer future.

This story is part of the 2024 Young Writers Digital Residency.