Late August of this past year, I was informed that my presence was required at a weekend-long business trip in Oklahoma. Without delving too much into my day job, the majority of my peers are in Texas. Prior to these meetings, they did not reach out to me, a remote member of their group, preferring to stay within their own, impenetrable clique.
“Humans are clothes-wearing pigs. In that case, I will dominate them. Rule over them.”
-Satsuki Kiryuin, Kill la Kill
When I was in my last year of junior high school, I bumbled my way through a grueling week of standardized tests for various preparatory schools. I ended up choosing none of them, and attended the town public school as originally intended – regardless of whether I would have presumably had a better education – in order to be with my friends.
Upon graduating, my only regret in not attending a private institution, much like my decision on where I would receive my high school diploma from, was based solely on fashion. I wanted to have worn a school uniform.
Yes, I was one of those disgusting “pigs in clothing” that Satsuki Kiryuin loathes.
Kill la Kill continues to have interesting thoughts on clothing, how it affects the attitude of the wearer, and how the attitude of the wearer affects the way that article of clothing is presented, and received by, a viewer. In episode five, the series shows Ryuko Matoi has come to accept Senketsu, her vampiric sailor uniform, as a friend. Likewise, Senketsu is shown to care for Ryuko’s life above his own. This is opposed to Satsuki’s viewpoint, which requires dominion over Junketsu.
“What I drew was not eroticism. It was all about Japan’s culture of shame. The characters want to show what they’ve got, but they’re too embarrassed to do so. It’s all about the tug of war between men and women. I wanted that embarrassment to be the eroticism of the stories.”
I did not like Kill la Kill until episode three of the series.