I have a confession. Whenever I flip through clothing catalogues, I am not looking at the clothes. I am looking at the poses. The very serious poses. The ones that say things like: “I drink iced oat lattes in winter”, “I smell like bergamot and emotional unavailability”, and “I have definitely kissed a girl under a Pret a Manger awning during light drizzle”.

I swear, some of these catalogue poses feel so queer coded they might as well come with a free U-Haul booking. As someone who spends way too much time around lesbian art and queer art, I cannot unsee it anymore.

As a LGBTQ artist, I started wondering if I was imagining it or if catalogue photographers have been quietly speaking to the queer community in the only safe way they know: through the medium of contorted elbows and wistful side eye. So, I did what any responsible adult would do. I researched it. I stared at so many catalogue models that my phone now thinks I want to become an influencer for beige knitwear.

And the short answer is: yes. Catalogue poses might genuinely be queer coded. Or at the very least, they’re queer adjacent, queer inspired, or queer yearning. A kind of low-budget sapphic art being beamed at us through the Argos lighting setup.

And the long answer is this entire blog post.

What even is queer coding and why is it lurking in catalogue photos?

Let’s get the term out of the way. Queer coding is when gestures, styles or behaviours hint at queerness without saying it outright. It’s always been part of queer art, LGBTQ art and even sapphic art, long before people had the language for it. Historically it has shown up in films, theatre, fashion, and anything that needed to whisper queerness without getting cancelled by someone called Brenda who writes strongly worded letters to the Daily Fail.

Fashion has always been extra. Fashion is basically that friend who shows up to brunch in a silk jumpsuit and sunglasses at 10am and says “what?” as if that’s normal human behaviour. So it is not shocking that the fashion world has long borrowed from queer aesthetics. Androgyny. Playfulness. Gender play. A wonderful amount of wrist limpness.

Academic people with very serious glasses have written about this. Shaun Cole wrote about queer connections in fashion. Queer art scholars explain that queer identity can be expressed not just through clothing but through posture, gesture and the vibe you give off while wearing said clothing. In other words, catalogue poses are not just poses. They are poses with backstory.

Let’s talk about poses

If you have ever looked at a clothing catalogue, you’ll notice the models never just stand normally. They are always doing some variation of:

Standing like they are waiting for a lover who left in 2009 but might still return

Leaning on a wall as if they're pretending it's not the only thing keeping them upright

Holding their own arms in a gentle “I am soft but troubled” way

Looking off into the distance like they are thinking about an ex

These poses don’t scream straight. They scream ambiguous. They scream “I have strong opinions about oat milk brands”. They also, quite honestly, resemble the exact poses you see in queer art exhibitions where someone stands in front of a blank wall in a jumper and still manages to look deeply sapphic.

You can absolutely read them as queer coded because:

1. The poses are androgynous.

Catalogue models often stand in this soft, fluid, loose kind of way. None of that stiff soldier stance. It’s very “gender? Couldn’t pick one. Too busy being hot”. A goth-lite gender haze that could easily hang in a gallery of sapphic art.

2. The gaze is never straightforward.

Half the time the models aren’t even looking at the camera. They’re looking away, like the camera is trying too hard. They’re giving the energy of someone who goes to queer life drawing classes and pretends they’re only there for the art. Pure queer artist energy.

3. The gestures are sensual but subtle.

Catalogues love a gentle wrist touch. A soft hand on a cheek. A thumb tucked half into a pocket in a way that is frankly suggestive. If you saw a real person doing that in a bar, you’d assume they’re flirting. It’s the kind of tiny detail LGBTQ art loves to blow up into a 40-inch print.

4. The body language is theatrical.

Fashion photography has always been dramatic. But catalogue drama is its own flavour of gay: it is camp but minimal. A sort of “quietly yearning lesbian” energy.

But is this intentional or am I just a lesbian with too much imagination?

Great question. One I asked myself while zooming in on a model’s elbow crease to see if it conveyed longing.

Here is the thing. High fashion has always been shaped by queer artists, designers and photographers. George Platt Lynes, a fashion photographer in the 1930s, created some of the most iconic commercial images while also making deeply homoerotic male nudes.

In other words, catalogue photos may not be screaming “gay”, but the people behind the lens might be gently whispering it.

We also know that queer artists like JJ Levine and Zanele Muholi have pushed the visual language of pose, posture, softness and ambiguity into the cultural mainstream. Even if a catalogue photographer isn’t consciously referencing them, the influence is absolutely there. Like gay osmosis.

Add to that the fact that fashion has long been a playground for bending gender, queering presentation and celebrating a spectrum of identities. Which means, unintentionally or not, catalogue imagery ends up looking a lot like mass-market LGBTQ art and queer art.

So no, I am not imagining it. Or at least, I am not imagining it alone.

Why catalogue poses are low-key queer icons

Let’s sum it up using science and homosexual instinct.

1. Queer coding thrives in ambiguity.

Catalogue poses are the definition of ambiguous. Models pose like someone asked them to show “discomfort but sexy”.

2. They destabilise gender norms.

Soft poses on masc presenting models, strong stances on femme models, blurred lines everywhere — the classic signature of sapphic art and queer art.

3. They invite interpretation.

Straight people see a jumper. Queer people see a narrative.

4. They create space for queer viewers.

Even unintentionally, they offer visual cues that resonate with queer audiences — the same way lesbian art often feels like it’s quietly winking at you.

Final thoughts from a sapphic artist who stared at too many poses for this article

After all this research, I feel confident enough to answer this question…

Are catalogue poses queer coded?

Clothing catalogue poses are queer coded. Maybe not on purpose. Maybe not consciously. But the queerness is there, lounging on a white studio backdrop in a cashmere jumper and looking slightly bored. It’s the kind of soft, ambiguous, emotionally complicated energy every lesbian artist secretly loves.

So next time you see a model with their foot propped on a rock squinting into the sunset, just know

 you’re not imagining it. The pose is flirting with you. And honestly, it is doing a great job.