Field notes What Is Traditional Goth? Supermade Editorial24 August 202614 min read Nik Fiend, a later show: paint laid on until the light finds no skin. Traditional goth is the first wave of the goth subculture, the one that formed around British post-punk clubs between the late seventies and the mid-eighties. It ran on Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Sisters of Mercy, on a handful of London and Leeds venues, and on a generation with no work and no money. The clothes people recognise it by came out of that situation: backcombed hair, layered fishnet, a white face, pointed boots off a market stall. In this piece The Name Came Later The Bands It Ran On The Club What One of Them Wore Who Wore What, Item by Item The Ends the Period Ran To What Fishnet Was Doing The Boots Have a Measurement Why the Blacks Disagreed What Backcombing Actually Involves The Jewellery Was Silver and Small Where the Feeling Came From What the Nineties Took Out How to Tell It From What Followed What Survives of It Common Questions The Name Came Later Trad goth is a retrospective label. It exists to separate the first version from cyber goth, romantic goth, mall goth and the rest of what arrived later. So the thing you are looking for is a period with dates on it. The people inside those dates called it goth, or positive punk after an NME piece that tried to name the wave in 1983. That matters when you are holding a garment. A shirt from 1983 qualifies because it was there. A shirt you buy as trad goth in 2026 qualifies on resemblance to what the period got narrowed down to. Where the word goth itself came from is disputed. One account traces it to NME writer David Dorrell, picking up a Brixton nickname for Andi of Sex Gang Children; another puts it in 1979 with Martin Hannett describing Joy Division as gothic. The Bands It Ran On The subculture is a music scene first. It gets dated from Bauhaus's "Bela Lugosi's Dead". Around it sat Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure and Sisters of Mercy, all of them out of British post-punk and none of them comfortable with the label. Andrew Eldritch of the Sisters rejected any association with goth. Siouxsie has spent decades refusing it. The bands spent as long refusing the label as their audience spent wearing it. That refusal matters for the wardrobe. The look came off stages belonging to bands who denied there was a movement to dress for. That is part of why the first wave has no uniform. The Club The Batcave opened on 21 July 1982 at 69 Dean Street in Soho, a Wednesday night running out of the Gargoyle Club. Olli Wisdom of Specimen ran it with the band's guitarist Jon Klein as art director. Two rules governed the music. No funk and no disco. There was no rule about clothes. In practice that left post-punk, glam singles and The Cramps. 69 Dean Street today; the Wednesday night ran downstairs from 1982. Photograph by SpeedyCheetah66, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons. The first year's playlist would surprise most of the people who invoke it now. Resident DJ Hamish MacDonald described his own sets as a sweeping curve of sound, with Siouxsie and The Cramps as middle ground, reaching back to Eddie Cochran and out to Sweet and Specimen. The floor only turned decisively gothic in 1983. Torn bin liners were stapled to the walls and black paper spiderwebs hung off the ceiling. Accounts written since have added a coffin you had to walk through. Members called themselves Batcavers. They wore batwing coffin necklaces to mark themselves off from the other, less outrageous goth nights running elsewhere in the city. The reissue label's sleeve notes describe what came through the door: hair ripped, torn, bleached and rubberised, death-mask makeup, and clothes assembled off the same market stalls. Art students, ex-punks, psychobillies, squatters and kids on the dole, dressed out of the same stalls and skips. A few arrived in designer pieces, though most had made what they had on. Accounts of the clientele describe them as free and jovial. Mrs Fiend of Alien Sex Fiend puts it directly: the music, the look, the black clothes, the hair, the makeup, the skulls and mannequin heads were all in place before they went to the club. The Batcave gave that wardrobe somewhere to go on a Wednesday. This sits awkwardly against the standard account, in which the club is the birthplace. Both versions are in print. The people who were in the room in 1982 describe walking in already dressed. The dress code that later accounts describe, black clothing and dramatic makeup enforced at the door, does not appear in what the regulars remember. What One of Them Wore Jonny Melton arrived in London from the Fens in September 1982 and rebuilt himself as Jonny Slut, keyboard player in Specimen. He wore a deathhawk, a fishnet shirt and full makeup. A deathhawk is a mohawk built out of backcombed hair. It stands as one mass. A newspaper photograph of that outfit ended up folded inside a second-hand record sleeve in Canada. That clipping is how one person on another continent found out the club existed. The broader Batcave look ran to layer on layer of torn fishnet, dramatic eye makeup, and teased hair defying gravity in any colour, over a base of black. Specimen's own account of how the wardrobe got assembled is blunter: they found Jonny Slut at the club and took a lot of their girlfriends' clothes. The band's slogans ran the same way. Alongside blasphemy, lechery and blood, printed on the inside sleeve of the Batcave album, they were also selling one that read I'm wearing DARK underpants. Who Wore What, Item by Item Specimen on stage, 1983 A published description of the band on stage runs head to foot: black clothes and fish-netting above the waist and below it, dark makeup on lips and eyes, faces painted deathly white, and black worked in under the cheekbones to hollow them out. Chains, crosses and silver for jewellery. Jonny Slut carried a black spiky deathhawk with strands left falling deliberately over the face. That winter he was wearing Sue Clowes' Flesh and Steel collection, printed with silver crosses, from the designer who had dressed Boy George two years earlier. He made the cover of Time Out in 1983 under the headline GOTHIC PUNK. Siouxsie Sioux, late seventies into the eighties Oversized men's suit jackets. Black fishnet stockings. Towering stilettos. A see-through mesh blouse with nothing under it. T-shirts and boots from Westwood and McLaren's shop SEX. Short spiked hair, peroxide or dyed black, years before spiked hair was common. By the early eighties the additions were bejewelled gloves and nipple-baring fetish gear. Reviewing the Banshees at Futurama in 1980 for the NME, Paul Morley reported that about half the girls at Leeds had already built their appearance on hers, hair to ankle. Nik Fiend of Alien Sex Fiend, from 1982 Ghoulish facepaint closer to a mask than to cosmetics, worked alongside skulls and mannequin heads as stage props. Nik Fiend built his face out of paint, laid on thick enough that stage lights found no skin under it. Siouxsie drew hers on: heavy brows, an Egyptian line at the eye, a sharp painted lip. Others wore sunglasses indoors. Men wore makeup, women wore makeup, and the two groups wore it differently. Both faces were in the room at the same time in 1983, and a photograph from that year can show you either one. The only garment common to all of them is fishnet, and each used it differently. Specimen wore fish-netting above and below the waist. Siouxsie wore it head to toe under a borrowed suit jacket. Nik Fiend covered his face instead. The misconception that sticks hardest to this period is that it standardised on black. Eighties goth styles were far more varied than they became in the nineties. There was no restriction to black or dark colours, and different bands developed different looks: the Batcave end, the deathrock end, and the ethereal, romantic, bohemian styles that later got grouped under other names. The Ends the Period Ran To The Batcave end ran to glam and cabaret. Fishnet, vinyl, rubberised hair, drag, dry ice, anything shiny and sexy and black. Camp was the operating mode. Deathrock ran harder and more punk. It was also American. Christian Death and 45 Grave came out of Los Angeles, and the Batcave later hosted them on tour. The third end had no name at the time and got grouped afterwards under labels like ethereal and woodland goth. Long skirts, layered vintage cloth, lace, no fetish material and no spikes. This end looks least like the stock image. Any of these passed as goth at the time. They were running side by side between 1982 and 1985, and they could do that because no shop was supplying any of them. The stock image keeps the Batcave end and drops the other two. The third end: long skirt, layered cloth, no spikes. Photograph by Oliver Kloss, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons. What Fishnet Was Doing Fishnet turns up in photograph after photograph from those rooms, rarely doing what a stocking does. It went on as a shirt. The photographed version of that is Jonny Slut in a fishnet shirt over a bare torso, a garment doing none of the things a shirt does except hold a grid in front of skin. It went on in layers, torn, one over another, until the holes stopped lining up. It also went on as sleeves. Women's tights, cut at the crotch, pulled onto the arms: the two legs happen to be the same diameter as a pair of arms. Head to toe was the other way it went on, and Siouxsie sat at that end. Same material, four times the quantity, no skin visible between ankle and neck. Every one of those uses came off the same material. The Boots Have a Measurement Winklepickers are the pointed boots, and in the goth scene they go by another name: pikes. Pikes in current production: the point stops about an inch out. Photograph by Karnstein, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons. The proportion has been cut twice since the Middle Ages. The medieval crakow ran to twenty inches past the toes. The 1950s winklepicker cut that to four, and current production stops at one. Where they came from in 1982 matters as much as the shape. Sharp-point styles returned in the late seventies as unworn old stock, second-hand originals, and contemporary copies, sold at Kensington Market and Chelsea's Great Gear Market. A pair on a Batcave dancefloor could be any of those. Why the Blacks Disagreed Two black garments from that period will not match each other, for reasons that come down to dye chemistry. Dye takes differently on wool, on cotton, on synthetics and on rubber, so a black cotton shirt, a black wool skirt and a black rubberised jacket will photograph as one colour under club lights and separate into three the moment somebody steps outside at four in the morning. Matching them would have meant buying a set. Canvas, suede and patent, all bought as black. Photograph by zigwamp, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Flickr. The later scene did start matching. That is part of what the consolidation means: a wardrobe where the blacks agree is a wardrobe assembled from one supplier. Red, white and purple turn up as accents wherever the period is documented in colour. So does the bleached hair listed among the Batcave hairstyles. What Backcombing Actually Involves Take a section of hair and comb it backwards towards the scalp. It tangles, and the tangle holds volume. Apply that to a mohawk shape. The current shortcut: gelled points, not backcombed mass. Photograph by clipmage, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons. Instructions for the technique put it at forty minutes or more for a tattered finish, though none of them describe a specific night at the Batcave. These arrived finished. Nothing about the process fits into a club toilet. The current shortcut is a shaved undercut with the length gelled up. That version separates into points. Crimping, the other technique in circulation, presses waves into the length with a heated iron and does something different: it adds texture without adding height. The Jewellery Was Silver and Small The period record runs to silver worn plain. The pieces that recur are an ankh, a plain cross, round-frame rings and the batwing coffin necklace, all of them silver, simple in outline, and worn several at a time. African jewellery turns up in the Batcave accounts alongside these, bought off the same stalls as the suits. A drawer of them fills over years, one piece at a time. Where the Feeling Came From Goth emerged in the socioeconomic decline and Thatcherite politics of late 1970s Britain, on the heels of punk. The people it gathered were mostly working and lower middle class. Anxious about their futures. Living through the economic turmoil of the Thatcher years. Afraid the Cold War would escalate. That is also why the wardrobe came off junk shop rails: the money went on the door and the drinks. That reading comes from Charles Mueller's 2008 study of the scene, built on interviews with over ninety people who took part in it. Reagan and Thatcher were describing not only the Cold War but drug abuse, crime and poverty as struggles between good and evil, in metaphysical terms. A white face, a painted mouth and a coffin necklace answer that rhetoric on its own ground. There was a local reason too. In Leeds the scene ran out of Le Phonographique. Peter Sutcliffe murdered thirteen women in that city between 1975 and his arrest in 1981. The scene formed across those six years. What the Nineties Took Out The consolidation happened after the club closed. It shows as a list of things removed. The borrowed men's suit went first, for a supply reason. A stall sells one jacket at a time in whatever size came in. Red, white and purple went with it; all three sit in the period record and none survive into the stock image. The African jewellery listed among the Batcave staples in Dazed's account of the scene went too. Cross Buckle Studded Black Leather Belt, $15.32. Black leather and a plain cross, both still in production. Improvised solutions went last, and tights as sleeves is the clearest case of it. That trick disappeared for a mechanical reason. By the late eighties a shop existed that would sell you a sleeve. Black stayed, along with fishnet, backcombing, eyeliner and the pointed boot. The list they came off included the borrowed suit, the tights-as-sleeves, the African jewellery, and three colours that are now absent. That gap is why the eighties wardrobe looks more varied than its own descendants. Reference accounts of the subculture place the centre in Germany by the early nineties, where it ran under a local name, Grufti. How to Tell It From What Followed Curved-Panel Stand-Collar Cropped Biker Jacket, $103.00. Current stock: plain black, nothing cut down from something else. Check the sources The Batcave years mixed punk hardware with glam theatre and whatever the market stall happened to have that week. An outfit that holds together from head to foot belongs to the nineties. Look for the DIY marks Painted, cut, restitched, repurposed, with tights doing duty as sleeves. A garment doing a job it was never cut for is the strongest single indicator. Count the colours An all-black stack passes for goth. It does not specifically pass for the eighties. Those years kept red, white and purple in play. Check the boot A point extending well past the foot belongs to the 1950s stock that got resold in the late seventies. Current production stops about an inch out, against the four inches that marks the period proportion. Ask what the hair is doing Backcombed mass built from tangle, holding its own height without product. Look at the makeup as a system Facepaint covering the whole face and eye work drawn on bare skin are two traditions running side by side in the same period, and either one passes. What Survives of It The scene outlasted the club by forty years. Wave Gotik Treffen in Leipzig and Whitby Goth Weekend in Yorkshire have kept running for decades, and the wardrobe on those floors is closer to the first version than anything sold under the name. Put a garment from 1983 beside one sold as trad goth today. The two can look similar while differing in every respect that mattered at the time: where it came from, what it had been before, how many others in the room had one. Common Questions Is trad goth the same as deathrock? Deathrock is the more punk-inflected end of the same period, American in origin, where the Batcave end ran closer to glam and cabaret. They overlap at the edges without being the same thing. Did the Batcave have a coffin at the door? Later accounts say so. Nik Fiend and the other regulars mention bin liners on the walls and paper webs on the ceiling. Why is it called traditional if it was the first? The name was applied backwards, once cyber goth and the rest existed and the original needed a word of its own. 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