If you’ll pardon the expression, condoms are having a cumback. Not in their intended, useful sense, oh no, but in terms of their cultural cachet outside the bedroom – despite a 23.8 percent rise in England STI diagnoses) by the end of 2022, compared to 2021. They’re popping up in marketing moments everywhere, from party favours at launches from Heaven by Marc Jacobs’ London opening party in 2023 to Big Mamma Group’s Circo Populare restaurant in 2019. Julia Fox, ever on the zeitgeist, recently wore a sheer tube-top adorned with rubbers, replete with matching bag and boots. At a wedding this weekend, I heard condoms described as the “ultimate boner-killer” but, while walking icks might not think they’re cool, brands certainly have a hard-on for prophylactics.
We know that in the 60s and 70s, condom sales dipped dramatically with the advent of the birth control pill alongside the rise of copper and hormonal IUDs. It wasn’t until the AIDS crisis in the 80s that condoms became truly commonplace, and the first national television ad to air in America, for Trojan, arrived in 1991. Lover’s latex has since been made luxurious by so many over the last decade, and condoms have rarely been out of mind for marketers. 2018 saw Alexander Wang team up with Trojan for a “Protect Your Wang” capsule collection, complete with free condoms. In 2019, Saint Laurent sold branded condoms for $2.20 a pop, just because they looked cool and on brand, while Vetements designed black and hot pink rubbers as invites to their S/S 20 show.
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For the purposes of this piece, I thought I’d try and procure some of these designer condoms to test. To the delight of my partner, I largely failed. They were either retailing at $150 on eBay (Vetements) or long sold out and impossible to find (Saint Laurent). The Wang Trojans now seem like a very strange relic with a very, um, mixed message given the string of allegations that still follow the designer.
So would you bag up with a brand-stamped contraceptive? Musician and Vogue U.S. sex columnist Tom Rasmussen told me they would absolutely use a branded condom. “I would also use an unbranded condom,” they affirm, ever non-discriminatory, yet discerning. “Really, whatever is in the bedside drawer. I certainly wouldn’t pay for or seek out a branded condom, unless it was Prada or Raf or Loewe, maybe Westwood. Although the lawsuit if one did get you pregnant from a branded condom could be quite lucrative. Something to think about….”
I suppose protection’s not really the point though, is it? Nor, perhaps, is the purpose here pleasure. The real aim – official or not – of these designer johnnies must be to target the young lover, to attract that youthful customer ready to spill their seed just before their bank balance tips towards actually being able to afford to buy into the brand, through a bag or a shoe. A branded condom is a step towards the brand, flirting with the logo before tumbling into a bed laden with Loewe. It’s a signifier, a status-symbol.
One of the largest moments in recent condom-based fashion history is Diesel x Durex. In case you missed it, creative director Glenn Martens heaped 200,000 condoms on the catwalk at Diesel’s A/W23 show, and models marched past to a thumping soundtrack of humping sounds. They gave out boxes of the condoms as invites and also in Diesel stores worldwide for free, before releasing a clothing collaboration with Durex. The garments include Big D logos and a riff on the now-iconic slogan ripped from the 90s: “For Sucsexful Living”. Sex, hedonism and humour have always been pillars of the Diesel world, perhaps said best in their S/S10 campaign, where bold red copy over American Apparel-esque, naughty noughties imagery literally read, “SEX SELLS*”, with the disclaimer underneath, “*Unfortunately we sell jeans.” Iconic.
But – I couldn’t help but wonder – does safe sex sell? And could making condoms designer lead to safer sex? “I don’t think chic-er condoms are the route to safer sex,” says Rasmussen. “Safer sex is educated sex, condom or not, and that starts with education, government and cool parents. Alas, the government are all total frigid losers so perhaps chic condoms are the only way.”
Some condom creators are taking matters into their own pants – sorry, hands – focusing on what’s inside the packet as well as the messaging behind it. In 2021, Jems launched in the U.S., a condom company with a Glossier-style, Girlboss-era look. Vegan, cruelty-free and “body-safe”, their site has a features-style page with informative interviews with experts titled, “(S)expansive Education”. In 2023, new sexual wellness company Roam came up with a range of inclusive condoms that match skin tone, in shades of dark to light brown, plus original latex. Talking to HuffPost UK, a spokesperson for the brand says, “Roam has been built to end the stigma and shame in shopping for sex for everyone. Legacy brands have failed to address nuanced needs of all sexually active communities.”
Perhaps it’s these nuanced needs that – with the rise of social media, dating apps and free online pornography – have become more specific, yet even harder to address IRL. Enter UK-based subscription-based service SEX BRAND, founded in 2023. Their first Instagram post reads, in bold orange caps, “SEX IS DYING. WE’RE HERE TO SAVE IT.” It’s been well documented that we are, as a species, currently copulating less and SEX BRAND was founded in direct response to this.
Less than a third of Brits have sex once a week, and a third of Brits are sexually inactive, co-founder and CEO Jack Gove tells VICE. “Most alarmingly,” he says, “It’s actually young people that are driving that trend.” Gove points to stats on the sexlessness in young people that show in 2008 about 8 percent of 18 to 29-year-olds hadn’t had sex in 12 months. “Flash forward a year, and that’s tripled to 23 percent,” he continues. “This is a really alarming trend that we’re seeing.”
SEX BRAND are responding with a pleasure-first focus and an open eye on their branding. Condoms are the first product they’re launching, which Gove describes as “a meaningfully better condom than anything else out in the market”. Their look is bold, with orange packaging in a can’t-look-away-from-it shade, like he says conversations about sex should be. “We’re not the brand that’s going to shy away, not the one that wants to speak in innuendo. We need a direct and open conversation on this stuff.”
Rasmussen agrees: “Condoms are particularly interesting in the gay community because, of course, that piece of latex and the idea of protection, or ‘safe sex’, is a deeply politicised idea, really. It’s one often foisted on queers the moment they come out to, I guess, pathologise our sex and push it arguably further into the shadows and further from classrooms where it should be discussed.”
Condoms are an iconic symbol of freedom, but not without their complexities. As conversations around wellness evolve, condoms represent not only the choice to enjoy sex without excess concern for pregnancy or the spread of STIs, but a contraceptive without hormonal impacts. (IMO, a very big pro for the love glove.) “We think that when people say they don’t want to use condoms, it’s because it doesn’t feel good,” Gove says. “We deliberately engineered a sexy condom to encourage people to use it.”
So maybe sexy condoms can get us bonking more. I’d love to know how many Diesel A/W 23 attendees actually used their keepsakes. But I’d say there’s an argument that once it’s been designer-ified, then posted in a social media moment, the condom becomes just a souvenir, a relic, a piece of collectable fashion ephemera. Not to be used, but to be discarded and thrown away. Even the cotton pouches containing free condoms from Soho House are more likely to be kept as cool jewellery containers than reused for rubbers; a nod to their initial sexy purpose, but not actually used for that.
“If a fashion brand is going to do a collaboration with a condom brand, then, good for them,” Gove says. “It then becomes, in my view, incumbent on them to start talking about the importance of wearing condoms. I think there’s a responsibility that comes with it that I think brands should embrace.”
A condom packet in your Prada purse gives an immediate sense of sexiness: I’m ready to have sex – and be safe about it, too. But does a Prada condom in your Primark purse do the same? I promise I’ll stop referencing Sex and the City at some point (I do have other interests), but I’m reminded again of the scene in the deeply offensive second movie in which Samantha drops her condoms in the middle of the souk… “Condoms, condoms,” she yells, thrusting. “I HAVE SEX.” (Oh god, it’s so bad.) But perhaps that’s what these brands are doing too. Maybe they’re trying to tell us that out of all the restaurants Big Mamma owns, Circo Populare is the Samantha of the group.
The next time a brand gives you a promotional penis protector, it’s just that – a sex symbol. But perhaps it’s up to you to take it home, get busy, and use it for what it really is: a key item for the preservation of physical pleasure.