If you watched Kim Kardashian arrive at the Met Gala in a wet-look Thierry Mugler latex gown and thought, Huh, there's something about that – congratulations, you've stumbled into one of the oldest, most misunderstood, and genuinely fascinating corners of fetish culture. Latex has been toeing the line between the underground and the mainstream for nearly two centuries, and it shows absolutely no signs of slowing down.
It starts with a raincoat. In 1823, Scottish chemist Charles Macintosh created rubberised fabric to make waterproof outerwear (living in Scotland, it makes sense). But it wasn't long before the Mackintosh coat found its way into the fetish sphere, largely through the efforts of The Mackintosh Society, a group of enthusiasts who were very much not just interested in staying dry. By the 1920s, there were dedicated letters columns in publications celebrating the "lovely rustling swish of rubber," as one correspondent apparently wrote – and honestly, they were onto something.
The fetish moved largely underground after World War II, pushed there by post-war social conservatism. It resurfaced in the late 1950s and 60s, thanks in no small part to British designer John Sutcliffe, whose label AtomAge began producing rubber and latex fetish clothing and eventually spawned a magazine that became an accidental documentation of Britain's leather and S&M scene. And then came The Avengers. Honor Blackman and Diana Rigg in catsuits on prime-time television brought latex-adjacent aesthetics into millions of living rooms, whether the audience knew what they were looking at or not.
Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren picked up the thread in the 1970s through their infamous boutique SEX on the King's Road, and by the 1980s and 90s, the BDSM community's growing visibility had pulled latex slowly but steadily toward the mainstream.
Latex fetishism (sometimes called rubber fetishism, with enthusiasts known as “rubberists”) is an attraction to latex as a material. The look of it, the feel of it, the smell of it, and the way it behaves on a body... The “second skin” quality is a big part of the appeal. Latex clings, compresses, and transforms the silhouette in a way no other fabric does, and for many people that transformation – the sensation of being tightly enclosed, the visual impact of that high-gloss finish – is the point entirely.
Within BDSM contexts, latex often intersects with power dynamics, sensory play, and roleplay. The dominatrix in head-to-toe black latex is not just a pop culture cliché, it's an image with real roots in a community that has long used the material for its psychological as well as physical properties. The restriction of a latex garment can mimic bondage. The process of getting into latex, which requires lubrication, patience, and another person's help if you're doing a full suit, is itself considered a ritual by many in the community. Foreplay, basically, before the foreplay.
Latex also sits comfortably outside explicitly sexual contexts. Some people wear it for the sensory experience alone. Others are drawn to the aesthetic, the performative, the transformative quality of putting on something that makes you look and feel different from your everyday self.
Allergies are real. Natural latex is derived from rubber trees, and latex allergies are more common than people realise. Before you go full latex, do a patch test. Hold a small piece against your skin for a few minutes and watch for a reaction. Silicone-based latex alternatives exist for people who react.
Use the right lubricant. Getting into latex requires a dressing aid or lubricant. Silicone-based products work well, and the process of applying it is something experienced rubberists describe as its own pleasurable ritual. Do not use oil-based products as they degrade the material.
Heat is a factor. Latex doesn't breathe! In a full-body suit especially, overheating is a genuine risk, so build in breaks, stay hydrated, and pay attention to how you're feeling.
Consent and communication first, always. If you're exploring latex with a partner, talk about it before anything comes off (or goes on). Agree on what you're each comfortable with, establish a safe word, and make sure stopping is always an easy, no-questions option. This applies whether you're trying a pair of latex gloves or going much further into the kink.
You don't have to begin with a head-to-toe enclosure suit. Most people who are new to latex start small. Gloves, briefs, or stockings are accessible entry points that let you get a sense of whether the sensation works for you without a significant financial or psychological commitment. Quality matters more than quantity here; cheap latex can irritate skin and doesn't behave the same way. Reputable latex clothing brands exist specifically for the kink market and are worth the investment.
Latex has gone from a waterproof utility fabric to a red carpet statement to a deeply personal kink (sometimes all three at once). Whether your interest is aesthetic, sensory, or something that goes a lot further, it's got far more depth, more history, and more nuance than most people realise.
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