Getting Blitzed

In a recent episode of Ricky Gervais' sitcom Derek, a nursing home's carers and residents recreate Duran Duran's flamboyant styling to mime 1981's hit Planet Earth for an unintentionally parodic – and tragic – “play”. In fact, Duran Duran belonged to a transgressive music and fashion subculture in the UK: New Romanticism.

While the current '80s music revival commenced in the late '90s, the decade's fashions, especially New Romantic garb, have been pushed to the back of the cultural wardrobe. But with punk officially 'in' again this season following the influential exhibition PUNK: Chaos To Couture at New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art, could there soon be a redux? After all, New Romanticism flourished during a recession – and Thatcher's austerity – as young Britons sought escape.

Perhaps the resurgence has even begun already. Lady Gaga's love of eccentric attire – and endless charade – is very New Romantic. However, the American has better branded her freak couture with the Haus of Gaga – which, incidentally, turned stylist Nicola Formichetti into a star (he's since served as creative director of Mugler and now Diesel). That's ARTPOP for you.

Three decades prior to Bad Romance, New Romanticism originated in the London nightclub The Blitz. Steve Strange had been promoting nights at Billy's with DJ Rusty Egan for disillusioned punks, their soundtrack the glam-rock of David Bowie and Roxy Music. They'd move to a Convent Garden wine bar. Here, every Tuesday, with Strange as doorman, The Blitz became increasingly otherworldly – and exclusive. The club didn't so much as have a dress as a costume code. Patrons had to dress individualistically – and wow. They'd take cues from history, the exotic, classic Hollywood, sci-fi, anything. It was a postmodern pantomime. The New Romantic scene was androgynous, too. Everyone wore cosmetics. And guys used hairspray – and hair dye – as liberally as the girls. Still, New Romanticism is routinely associated with the dandy's frilly shirt.

The working-class Spandau Ballet, with frontman Tony Hadley, was The Blitz's premiere in-house band. When they debuted on Chrysalis with To Cut A Long Story Short, the group had styled themselves (which maybe explains the headbands). Hadley, touring Australia with an orchestra next month, had started as one of those jaded punks who dressed outrageously for The Blitz. “You knew you looked different – and you needed to look different,” he recalls. “You wanted people to look at you and curse you – that's what youth is all about. And that's what rock 'n' roll is all about!” Successive acts were swept up by New Romanticism – from Japan to Ultravox to Liverpool's A Flock Of Seagulls – though not necessarily contentedly.

Being close to Saint Martin's School of Art, The Blitz attracted fashion students like John Galliano. The Blitz Kids set fashion trends. Before long, ruffled shirts and knickerbockers were in high street stores, including Topshop. Punk doyenne Vivienne Westwood actually presaged New Romanticism with her first collection, Pirates, picked up on by Adam & The Ants. The movement was covered in magazines such as The Face – and inspired Ian Birch's photographic The Book With No Name.

Today Hadley reckons that New Romanticism is over-intellectualised: “At the core of it was a bunch of guys and girls having a bloody good time.” Ironically, mainstream media exposure, and pop success, doomed the phenomenon – or, rather, its music heroes shunned the theatrical space of the club for the screen by way of slick music videos in the MTV era. New Romanticism was rendered into an aspirational fantasy for the masses. Both Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran traded in frilly shirts for sharp suits as they led a new 'British invasion' in the US. Constantly on the road, Spandau Ballet found themselves relying on stylists. Says Hadley, “You [then] do need people who are gonna come in and say, 'Look, this is the latest outfit from Moschino' or whatever.”