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Witches’ Britches

WITCHY STYLE AND WHEN TO TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF!

Going to a coven meeting wearing dramatic robes and ceremonial jewellery can be fun and stimulating but for me, being a Witch is about being relaxed and happy with yourself. Wearing dramatic Witchy clothing all the time reminds me too much of when I was a teenager screaming out for people to look at me and notice me. The same goes for making a big deal about my beliefs in public, i.e. waving my arms around in public and casting spells on all and sundry.

Running Around in the Nude

… or ‘going skyclad’ is the more dignified way of putting it. All jokes aside (and indeed, why should there be any?), it is appropriate for Witches to perform their rituals and spell-castings without clothing, though by no means is it essential. The body is sacred to Witches and nudity is considered a blessed and whole state, not debauched or vulgar. When a Witch is naked nothing comes between her/him and the Universe – after all, everyone is born naked. In group gatherings, depending on people’s preferences, ritual robes and other clothing are most often worn, but personally, in any solo rituals or gatherings with trusted kinfolk, I am comfortable working naked. It is a personal choice, and no-one should ever feel pressured to perhaps drop their guard and reveal themselves as they truly are, unless they are ready to. Going skyclad should have you feeling blessed, perfect and magickal just the way you are, never uncomfortable or exposed. If you do feel the latter, put something on straight away!

Some Witches I know enjoy the drama and shock value of elaborate clothing, jewellery, hair colours and the unleashing of grandiose eccentric behaviour on the average suburban community. However, two of the most powerful and knowledgeable Wiccan High Priestesses I know are very low key. They are both uniquely beautiful middle-aged women who work in corporate environments, and the only concessions they make to traditional Witchy gear are predominantly black wardrobes. Of course, the majority of office working women have wardrobes with a high black content anyway. A lot of male Witches I know tend to grow the pointy goatee beard, like Pan, and wear black clothing and pointy-toed shoes but then, a lot don’t, too. The general consensus amongst most Witches is that if someone walks around advertising their spiritual path in a self-aggrandising way then they’re a bit of a loser and probably more of a talker than a doer.

It can be a pretty spectacular sight, however, when you attend a coven meeting or festival gathering and everyone is out in full Witchy clobber. A lot of people go for a medieval theme; woman bedecking themselves in sumptuous, swishy velvet skirts, lace-up bodices and wide belts with athames, amulet pouches and purses hanging off them; while the men have big shirts tucked into tight pants and boots, long hair and medallion necklaces. Others are into looks like the esoteric street-urchin fairy look with dreads, hand-dyed tattered threads, glitter everywhere and leather thonging cluttered with crystals tied around their necks.

People following specific traditions such as those based on Nordic teachings, may dress in animal fur and leathers with elaborate headgear – like a hat I saw made from the head and body of a skinned feral cat, and at one gathering, one of the members was in a full chain mail suit! Celtic groups have the men dress in authentic bardic costume with woven wool tunics over leggings and swirling capes secured at the shoulder with a decorative metal pin.

So, what do I wear at these gatherings? Well, seeing as I’m a bit of a rebel, I rarely wear black. For daytime I’ve been known to stomp around in lurid red boots, a t-shirt or jumper and flared fluorescent coloured patchwork pants with a big brown belt, on which I hitch my athame in its sheath and from which I also hang a couple of amulet pouches, their contents being part of spells in progress. I always wear my pentacle tight at my throat, and maybe a big chunk of citrine quartz crystal hanging on leather suspended over my solar plexus chakra to facilitate mental awareness and communication – handy qualities to amplify when you’re mixing with lots of strangers.

For one of the first coven meetings I attended I was told to wear a cape, but for many years as a solitary Witch I didn’t own one, practising my rituals in the privacy of my own home and usually skyclad. Then one day I was visiting my Aunt Magda and she was getting rid of a whole lot of old clothes and she invited me to go through a bag and see if there was anything I wanted. I pulled out a full-length black satin cape lined in white which fastened at the throat with three little diamante buttons – a perfect Witch’s cape! Aunt Magda used to wear it to parties in the 1960s but she was more than happy to give it to me to wear to coven meetings.

The black cape has a lot of symbolic meanings, beyond being just a fashion trend for ‘gothic’ Witches. Wearing any kind of ceremonial garb is a technique for helping you to leave the mundane, everyday world and enter into the special, magickal realm of ritual. If you’re working with a group, like a coven meeting, wearing a kind of occult uniform helps to visually demonstrate unity and encourage everyone to work with a singular focus. For me, having the black cape draped over my shoulders prepares me for the inward journey into the subconscious required for all magickal work. The white lining symbolizes the enlightenment and power waiting there between the worlds for me to tap into.

Usually when it is time for ritual at coven meetings and gatherings, everyone removes their capes – ritual work nearly always requires working with fire and you don’t want capes lighting up as people dance around flaming cauldrons or lean over burning candles on altars! Witches are also usually careful not to wear garments with big, draping sleeves that could knock over altar tools and drag in bowls of water. Long, simple robes, usually black, are often worn by both sexes and sometimes specifically coloured robes are made for different events; for instance, white is worn for full moon rituals and often red is popular for Sabbats.

As I mentioned earlier, unless it’s cold, I work skyclad at home. This means naked and it has nothing to do with debauchery and sex! To a Witch the naked body represents the dropping of illusions and social masks; to us the human body is sacred and needs no tricks or props to make it Divine and empowered. Clothes can also sometimes present a barrier to raising power, and in groups they can be a barrier to unity as they can indicate potentially divisive situations like lower income and differing social status. The theory is: when everyone is naked, everyone is equal. Witches aim not to be intimidated by cultural stereotypes, and in ritual would not consider older bodies to be less attractive than younger ones, nor slimmer bodies to be more appealing than fatter ones – in Circle all bodies are beautiful, sacred and honoured.

The only group gatherings that I’ve attended skyclad have been exclusively for women – like the Wemoon weekend discussed in the ‘Witches Are All Rite’ chapter. It is very rare for a large mixed group of strangers to gather naked, usually out of respect for individual preferences – though many smaller initiated covens work skyclad 99% of the time. Within these groups members are well-known to each other and committed to the coven, and have the tolerance and support to deal with situations that occasionally arise when working skyclad. For example, some guys when attending their first few skyclad group Circles (especially if they’re young) will get a hard-on – from nerves. No true Wiccan would think anything negative about it and inexperienced female Witches don’t need to feel threatened sexually if this happens. Nakedness is sacred and sexual, procreative energy is honoured as Divine by Wiccans and so no-one needs to feel embarrassed.

Most Witches have a special piece of jewellery that they always wear for ritual work. Traditionally, women wear a necklace of amber and jet, or a large silver bracelet that is inscribed with meaningful symbols; and men wear a silver ring which can be also inscribed. Personally, I change my ritual jewellery periodically as I don’t like to become too attached to a singular piece and run the risk of becoming dependent upon it. For example, if I decided that my silver moon ring was my ‘power object’ and I had to have it for any bona fide ritual work or spellcasting, then I would be externalizing my power which is ultimately destructive. If I lost the ring it would also be tempting to consider that a ‘bad omen’ – which is succumbing to the consumerist notion that the accumulation of material goods will bring success and happiness. I like to change my ritual jewellery according to the sort of work I’m doing and the mood I’m in. I have a wonderful, enormous amber sphere set in a silver pendant that I often wear for rituals that require a lot of meditation, since amber can be used to assist grounding and centring. I also love my Celtic pewter and amethyst pentacle necklace which I wear when I want to announce to the world that I am a Witch!

Many Western Witches mark themselves with tattoos much like the shamans and witchdoctors of indigenous peoples. Symbolic designs and talismans have been painted on the skin to enhance and commemorate spiritual practices since the time of our earliest ancestors. A lot of Witches have pentagrams tattooed somewhere on their bodies or perhaps Egyptian symbols like the ankh and Eye of Horus – whatever visually expresses their particular paths and experiences.

I have four tattoos, each one representing a major Witchy turning point in my life. Above my left ankle is my first tattoo. It is the symbol ‘69’ representing my star sign, Cancer, and above is the noonday sun and below the waxing moon, both being symbols that I equated with positive, forward moving energy. At the time I was twenty-three and feeling good about myself and my life. I wanted a tattoo that, when I looked at it, would remind me not to take life for granted and to celebrate every day that I am alive.

The next tattoo I had done a couple of years later is on the right-hand side of my lower back and is a shark backed by a spray of water. My first scuba dive involved a private, introductory dive in the waters just off Manly Beach in Sydney, Australia. The instructor and I had only descended a few metres and I was just getting used to breathing underwater (definitely a bit of a claustrophobic experience at first!) when a five-foot bronze whaler shark glided by about two metres in front of me. I was stunned: the biggest fear you can have as a fledgling diver is of sharks and here was a big one (everything looks magnified underwater) with a reputation as a bit of a ‘snapper’ (i.e. known to bite humans)! But after a reassuring squeeze of my hand by my instructor, I relaxed and just watched this magnificent creature swim. Watery sunbeams glanced off its tawny brown skin as its long, thick body weaved effortlessly through the water, circling us. I felt that it was communicating telepathically to me saying, ‘Just watch me; you’re in my territory now but I am happy to share it with you.’ I was in awe and even more thrilled when a second shark suddenly appeared out of the murky depths. It was a sleek grey nurse, and together they swam around us in graceful arcs for another five minutes before moving away out of sight.

Later, back on shore, I stared at the ocean for an hour, its calm blue surface belying the existence of a busy, thriving alien world below that I could now visit every day if I wished. Diving is really like going to another planet and when I had the shark tattooed on my back I thought about how nothing is necessarily what it first appears to be, or ever completely predictable. The Universe and my place in it is in a constant state of enriching, surprising and stimulating flux, where dangers can be safe, safety can be suffocating and the key to physical and spiritual evolution is to be prepared to explore and love the unknown and the unfamiliar.

Another tattoo I have is a Knot of Eternity on my left inner wrist. It is a design of two short loops and one long loop of rope weaving in and out of each other into a square shape, consisting of nine inner and eight outer spaces. It is a mandala of contemplation and Buddists consider it the pattern of their Enlightened One’s entrails as they are arranged while he is sitting in meditation. I got this done in early 1993 after a particularly traumatic experience overseas when touring with my band. I thought I would never get through this experience but I did and the Knot of Eternity will always remind me that what doesn’t kill you, can make you stronger and the more sorrow carves out of you, the more joy you can ultimately pour in.

Finally I have a large tattoo of the skull of a water dragon crowning an interlaced band around my upper left arm. This I had done in late 1995 and it celebrates a profound period of personal growth involving the magickal exploration of the inner, darker realms of my psyche. In mythologies from many different cultures the dragon has traditionally represented the underworld, the subconscious, as well as the astral realm. Essentially a serpent with wings, it can ‘burrow deep’ and ‘fly high’. Water is the element most associated with emotions and the period represented by this tattoo was a time in which I learnt how to harness my emotions with the strength of a dragon, and how to use them as fuel for magickal workings and personal growth. The head of the dragon is decorated with ‘URUZ’, a Viking rune symbolizing endings, new beginnings and strength. Positive growth often requires a trip into the darker realms as part of the cycle of renewal and this was the lesson I learnt through a series of losses and hardships that ultimately led to new, better opportunities and experiences.

Another work of Witchy body modification I undertook around the same time as my dragon tattoo is my labret piercing. This is a ten-gauge steel stud inserted about one centimetre below the centre of my bottom lip. To mark myself so drastically in such a visible position required quite a serious reason. My labret represents one of the most unnerving spiritual challenges I have ever experienced – a ten-day Buddhist meditation retreat called Vipassana in July, 1995. During this time I learnt a very difficult technique of meditation: it requires complete dedication, as you have to agree at the orientation lecture that under no circumstances will you shoot through and abandon the course. The teachers of Vipassana ask for this reassurance from you because they know how hard the course is. For ten days, although you are surrounded by others, you must neither speak, look nor make gestures at anyone, and you concentrate solely on Vipassana meditation. For two hours in the middle of the day you are able to speak to the teachers but other than that you are guided by a morning and afternoon teaching session. Your day consists of rising at 4am and focusing only on your breathing and the subtle sensations in your body for no less than fourteen hours of sitting meditation. In addition, your food intake is very strict with a light vegetarian meal for breakfast and lunch, and only herbal tea and fruit for dinner – and of course there is no coffee, smoking or alcohol.

You become paranoid, depressed, frustrated, and occasionally ecstatic over the ten days, but on completion the peace of mind you have achieved is better than sex! Vipassana was one of the most difficult yet rewarding things I have ever done, and I’m sure my teachers would be horrified to know that the experience inspired me to pierce my body with steel. However, during the course you are encouraged to contemplate the notion of the impermanence of the flesh and the permanence of the spirit, and the transitory nature of pleasure and suffering. Essentially, the ritual of my labret piercing was a permanent piece of steel inserted into the impermanent, organic medium of flesh. The pain of the piercing was so intense that transcending it became blissful and as such it summed up what I learnt at Vipassana.

Another form of body modification is makeup – when applied with intent it can be a magickal expression. Colour affects our emotions and others’ emotions around us, and enhancing or exaggerating our facial features can be a magickal act. Usually Witches wear no makeup when attending coven meetings, but for open group gatherings everyone dresses up, and on these occasions I outline my eyes with black and smear silver glitter onto my eyelids. Doing this, I am announcing to others that I am ready to enter into a realm of mystery and enchantment.

I have a headband that sits low across my forehead set with a quartz crystal over the third eye area which I often wear when doing intense meditation, as the crystal placed here can amplify psychic powers. It was a tradition among the ancient Druids to wear crowns with open-set jewels in the centre of the forehead for similar reasons.

As a Witch I believe everything can be imbued with a sense of magickal purpose – even the most routine of chores like getting dressed every morning. As a Catholic I was brought up to think that an overt interest in personal appearance was vain and to be frowned upon. As a Witch I think vanity is a good thing, though by this I am subverting the generally accepted meaning of vanity. To me, vanity means having an ever-evolving interest in your appearance for completely personal reasons, not because you want to appeal to, impress, manipulate or dominate others. Vanity can be a form of self-expression that involves being aware of, and in touch with, the inner self and expressing that externally.

After my teen years of dressing radically, I went through a stage in my early twenties where I downplayed my personal appearance and convinced myself I was ugly and undeserving of any special enhancement. I would throw on any old thing or just buy an item of clothing that thousands of other people were wearing, I didn’t experiment with makeup and I stuck to a few basic, familiar things.

But as I continued developing my Witchcraft over the next few years, I saw my inner world reflecting more and more on my outer world, and so I got in touch with enjoying and playing with my appearance again, but with a more evolved sense of purpose. The creative process of dressing up and wearing elaborate makeup is an empowering Witchy act and as I continue to grow, I continue to take decorating myself seriously as an outward expression of my ever-evolving spiritual psyche. Of course there are days when nothing beats a neat little black dress and smoothed back hair and discreetly applied makeup (or a pair of crappy trackies!), but that’s my point – Witchy style is about being in touch with your needs and desires. It is an expression of self-interest and self-love, and that is very empowering.