Fashion Theory

The Journal of Dress, Body and Culture

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SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the

Costa Rican Capital

Blanco F. José

To cite this article: Blanco F. José (2014) SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa
Rican Capital, Fashion Theory, 18:5, 569-600, DOI: 10.2752/175174114X14042383562146

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 Article Title 569

Fashion Theory, Volume 18, Issue 5, pp. 569–600

DOI: 10.2752/175174114X14042383562146
Reprints available directly from the Publishers.
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© 2014 Bloomsbury Publishing PLC.

José Blanco F.
José Blanco F. is an Associate
Professor in the Textiles,
Merchandising and Interiors
Department at the University of
Georgia. His current research
focuses on dress and popular
culture in the second half of
the twentieth century with an
emphasis on male fashion. He
is also interested in fashion and
visual culture in Latin America.
jblanco@uga.edu
SJO: Mapping
Fashion and
Masculinities in
the Costa Rican
Capital
Abstract
This article is a descriptive mapping of the Costa Rican capital, San
José. I discuss the different ecologies of men’s fashion as produced by
the city, emphasizing how the physical landscape of the city informs,
and perhaps defines, the sartorial choices of the men that inhabit it.
The resulting range of performed masculinities reflects the relation-
ships established between men and their near environment, primarily
their clothes and the spaces they occupy in San José. I also look at
spaces that provide interconnections between different masculinities
and spaces that are points of crossover from one network to another.
570 José Blanco F.

This ­mapping presents information about the connection between

masculinities, fashion, and space for Costa Rican men as it highlights
the layering that results from important differences in age, social class,
power, privilege, taste, and other parameters. The article describes a
variety of environments, including the casual and bohemian styles at
the Universidad de Costa Rica, clothing at working-class hangouts such
as the Mercado Central, and the urban decay in the red-light district.
I discuss shopping options ranging from the old department stores in
Avenida Central—catering to the middle classes—to the state-of-the-art
shopping centers in upper-class areas. The range of fashion and mascu-
linities goes from sports clothing and team paraphernalia to the well-off
urban dandies who proudly display perfectly fitted and ironed clothes.
The complicated kaleidoscope of masculinities includes groups such
as surfers, skaters, out-of-place tourists, and native Costa Ricans who
have abandoned the reservation in search for a better life in the capital.
The landscape of fashioned masculinities in San José is one of an urban
hybrid postmodern city where cultural and social memory is present in
dress, but modernization and globalization open routes for continuous
innovation and experimentation with fashion.

KEYWORDS: Costa Rica, fashion, Latin American men, mapping,

masculinity, San José

Introduction: Home Again

This article is a descriptive mapping of the Costa Rican capital, San

José; international airport code: SJO and fondly nicknamed by many as
“Chepe.” Once—longer than I care to admit—I was a young boy here.
I grew up in the nearby town of Moravia—today one of the many cities
absorbed by San José. Due to urban sprawl, I no longer live two blocks
from a small coffee plantation; I live two blocks from a large shopping
mall opened in 2012. I grew up fascinated by rumors about San José,
eager to explore it by myself. I will never forget how after days of
begging my low-income carpenter father to let me go see Star Wars
(1977) by myself, he finally gave me enough money for bus fare and a
movie ticket. The city was finally mine. Today, after decades of living
in the USA, I go back home and walk around San José more intrigued
than ever. Now, I teach fashion history and men’s fashion; so my mind
wonders every time and I become absorbed by how the city illustrates,
informs, and perhaps defines the sartorial choices of the men who live
or work in the capital. I was once one of them; every time I go back, I
am one of them. Male fashion in the city is a visual indicator of how
performed masculinities populate San José by virtue of the different
cultural and social parameters the city offers as a near environment to
the men who live, work, or have fun in San José. Ken Moffatt (2012)
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 571

describes urban masculinities as hybrid, resulting from the complex so-

cial and cultural interplay of race, ethnicity, gender, class, and sexuality
provided by the city landscape. A walk in San José reveals distinctively
marked environments, shopping spaces, and sartorial choices for men
of different social groups, professions, and generations. The city works
as a perfect ecosystem allowing men to connect with others at the soc-
cer stadium, the bar, or other male gathering spaces. This mapping
presents information about the relation between masculinities, fashion,
and space for men in San José. It highlights the layering that results
from important differences in age, social class, power, privilege, taste,
and other parameters.1 The landscape of fashioned masculinities in San
José is one of an urban, hybrid postmodern city where cultural and
social memory is present in dress, but modernization and globaliza-
tion open routes for continuous innovation and experimentation with
fashion.2
San José is a perfect example of Rebecca E. Biron’s (2009) assertion
that “the urban scene in Latin America offers us a privileged view of the
social effects of projections of colonialism, postcolonialism, moderniza-
tion, industrialization, migration, deconstruction, and globalization”
(2009: 23). Alan Gilbert (1998) also points out:

In many ways, Latin American cities look very similar. They are
unequal and so contain wide extremes of poverty and affluence.
Urban sprawl has produced almost identical suburbs, so that it
is difficult to tell either the shanty towns or the high-income resi-
dential areas in one city from those in another. The ubiquitous
bootblack, street vendor and beggar frequent the central streets of
every major city along with elegantly dressed business people and
government workers. Traffic congestion, skyscrapers and street
children are found everywhere. (1998: 1)

San José was founded in 1738 near the area known as La Boca del
Monte and after the construction of a chapel aimed to concentrate the
scattered inhabitants of the Aserrí Valley. It was granted the title of city
on October 18, 1813 and became the country’s capital in 1823. There
were citywide celebrations as San José turned 200 years old in 2013.
San José is also the head of the province of San José—one of seven prov-
inces in Costa Rica—and forms the center of the Greater Metropolitan
Area (Gran Area Metropolitana or GAM in Spanish) with nearby cities
and head of their respective provinces: Alajuela, Heredia, and Cartago.
San José is the nation’s government, financial, and educational center
as well as the country’s main transportation hub. The city is also the
cultural and entertainment capital of Costa Rica—often named as one
of the happiest countries in the world—with an active art community,
several museums, art galleries, and a lively restaurant and nightlife
scene that attracts both locals and tourists. The city, as does most of
572 José Blanco F.

the country, enjoys mild weather yearlong. Over a million people work
in San José where driving—or just crossing the street—is perilous, as
desperate people traveling around and across San José on car, bus, taxi,
or on foot fight to avoid getting stuck in traffic. Driving over an hour to
work every day is nothing out of the ordinary.
Medardo López García (1999) divides San José into three sectors
in order to analyze the use of public spaces at the end of the twenti-
eth century. In his scheme, the first area is the heart of the city, which
is located around the Avenida Central, the National Theater, and the
Metropolitan Cathedral. The heart of the city expands to the city center,
which according to López García (1999) comprises approximately 9.65
km2 including 135 blocks. I am concentrating my analysis on the city
center. Finally, López García defines the urban core—or the Gran Area
Metropolitana (GAM)—as the extended network of districts and cities
around the city center. San José is formally divided into eleven districts,
which are in turn divided up into a number of neighborhoods or bar­
rios. Some of the more affluent neighborhoods in the city center include
Otoya, Amón, and Aranjuez. Towns to the north include my hometown
of Moravia as well as Guadalupe, Coronado, and Tibás. Towards the
south, one finds neighborhoods with a lower level of economic develop-
ment and increased issues with crime. Most of these barrios del sur
appeared in the 1960s and 1970s. They include communities such as
Alajuelita, Desamparados, Hatillo, and San Sebastián as well as poverty
enclaves such as Los Guidos.

Hombres Josefinos: Identity, Masculinities,

and Machismo

As luck would have it, my parents decided to name me José—after the

saint, not after the capital. Nonetheless, I proudly carry one of the most
common names in the world. I also fully and gladly accept the label of
Josefino—a name ascribed to people living in the capital. Josefino mas-
culinities are different from other Costa Rican masculinities including
those from rural areas, the Caribbean coast—with a high percentage of
African descendants—or indigenous men in reservations in the south of
the country. Since I emphasize masculinities in San José, I would then
make little reference to those other masculinities. I use masculinity in
this article as a tool to analyze and discuss how men dress in San José
and how their choices may reflect a desire to project a specific identity.
Colin Campbell (2012) argues that the monitoring and discovery of
fashion styles as well as the evaluation and selection of clothing pieces
are central to the development of identity. Fashion, then, is explored
as a tool for the construction of multiple performed identities that are
relational and fluid, changeable, and not fully stable. I hope it is clear at
the end of this article that Josefino men—just like anyone else—define
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 573

their identities by a combination of social and space parameters, includ-

ing appearance management and fashion.
Researchers have emphasized plural masculinities since the appear-
ance of R. W. Connell’s (1995) Masculinities, where he distinguishes
between a number of masculinities including hegemonic, subordinate,
and working class. Hegemonic masculinity is usually understood as
reflecting the stereotype of physical strength and skills as well as ex-
ercise of control, courage, and power that has somewhat become the
basis for the justification of the social construction of masculinity. This
is what Michael S. Kimmel (2001) defines as “public patriarchy” (the
institutional predominance of males in power positions) and “domes-
tic patriarchy” (the emotional and familiar arrangements in a society.)
Connell (1995) insists that hegemonic masculinity is not always the
same and that it occupies a position based on patterns and conditions
that are always contestable. Mike Donaldson (1993) argues that hege-
monic practices do not correspond to all men. He adds that cultural
ideas and stereotypes or expectations do not necessarily follow closely
the actual personalities of many men. For Kimmel (2001), masculin-
ity is a group of signifiers that are always changing and that are built
through relationships and interactions with others, our environment,
and ourselves. As is the case everywhere else, in Costa Rica, we have a
plurality of masculinities organized hierarchically. Some of these mas-
culinities—subcultural masculinities or working-class masculinities, for
instance—may be rendered inferior or powerless by others who relate
strongly to concepts of hegemonic masculinity. Once an essentialist con-
ceptualization of masculinity is left behind, the plethora of masculinities
that appears helps present a clearer and more realistic impression of
how and who men are in a given society. Jack S. Kahn (2009) praises
a social constructivist approach to masculinities not only as a research
methodology, but also as a form of activism, since a perspective based
on multiple masculinities counters an essentialist perspective and its
patriarchal assumptions.
As most Latin American societies, Costa Rica and ergo the city of
San José are structured on a binary sex-gender system where privilege
and power have been historically assigned to hegemonic masculinities.
As a male growing up in Costa Rica and particularly as a Latino living
in the USA, I have struggled coming to terms with the assumption that
I—regardless of my being a gay man—must fit the stereotype of a Latino
man as the ultimate expression of “machismo.” The machismo label
is a burden that all men in Costa Rica carry; one that we share with
men across Latin America. We are constantly faced with the ghost of
machismo floating over our heads.3 Masculinity is a multidimensional
experience and identifying men primarily with machismo is problematic
not only because it assigns a normative referent to men’s lives but also
because it simplifies the complex interaction of power and sexuality in
the construction of masculine identities. Machismo is a contested term.
574 José Blanco F.

I have always had issues with it since I usually cannot find most of the
Costa Rican men I know in the shared definitions of the term—granted
most of the men I know are educated urbanites. The widespread use of
the term is, in part, due to the work of a number of ethnographers of
the 1950s and 1960s who perpetuated the stereotype of Latin American
men as machistas. Their work is based on impressionistic evidence and
assumptions.4 Because of these publications, Latin American men are
stereotyped as aggressive, loud-mouthed, womanizers, massive drink-
ers, and displaying uncontrolled sexual prowess (Ramírez 1993).
Researchers continue perpetuating the stereotype with Paul Kutsche
(1995) arguing that socialization into machismo in Costa Rica begins in
early childhood, making it very difficult to change later in life. Alvaro
Campos and José Manuel Salas (2002) argue that men in Costa Rica are
socialized to be violent and all are potential aggressors as a reflection of
masculine hegemony.
The approach to Latin American masculinity as essential and un-
changeable and the idea of a predisposition in Latin American males
towards machismo has been challenged. Matthew Gutmann (1996)
argues against the academic institutionalization of a Latin American
sexuality that generalizes the population based on a number of perpetu-
ated essentialist and often-racist stereotypes disregarding the existence
of a variety of masculinities. He calls machismo a dangerous and mis-
leading bellwether term often taken to mean that such traits are not
just ubiquitous but also exclusive to Latin American men. Katie Willis
(2005) argues that:

It is clear that while macho as a form of male performance and

identity politics is present in the region’s cities, it is far from the
norm. Within urban areas, the construction of different spaces
enables the performance of a range of male identities and these
performances in turn shape the nature of urban space. Identities
are not fixed, and men’s performances as men can vary across ur-
ban space; a man’s behavior in a bar may be very different for his
actions when he is at home playing with his children. (2005: 106)

Mauricio Menjívar Ochoa (2010) proposes to abandon limiting

theories of masculinity when discussing Costa Rican men. He suggests
recontextualizing how historic and social relations form the mental and
physical schemes in which Costa Rican men function as free agents
within the established and institutionalized social structures of mascu-
linity and instead look at how men work in order to either preserve
or modify those structures.5 As Latin American men we all carry the
weight of the unfortunate and negative implications of the assumption
that machismo is a widespread cultural phenomenon. As others, I am
not saying that there are no men who exhibit some or even all of the
characteristics associated to machismo. I want to establish machismo,
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 575

however, as contested and emphasize the diversity in the lives and

fashion choices of Josefino men. It is important to deconstruct Latino
masculinities as complex, multifaceted, and layered by variables such as
class, ethnicity, occupation, etc. I hope that the following discussion of
how a variety of men in San José dress and express their identities hints
at the fact that masculinity in Latin America—as elsewhere—is fluid
and that these urban/multinational masculinities undermine the notion
of the macho stereotype.6

The Heart of the City

So, we are off to Costa Rica for a few weeks in July. My partner, Raúl,
and I spend days walking around San José’s public spaces armed with
a smartphone that can miraculously both take pictures and record our
field notes. We walk the streets and sidewalks, visit parks, plazas, and
markets, drive around the city at night and explore how the city presents
a backdrop not only for distinct realms of social life but particularly for
the distinct masculinities that occupy them and often prescribe them.
We observe how groups of men share common spaces in different parts
of the city. For instance, Nicaraguan immigrants congregate at Parque
La Merced to meet and share with others who abandoned their country
in search for a better life in Costa Rica; while tourists and crowds of
young people share the space of Plaza de la Cultura; and the working
classes move around Mercado Central and Mercado Borbón.
We start our account of men, masculinities, and fashion at the heart
of the city where the old department stores in Avenida Central—for-
merly the pride of the capital—sell to the middle and working classes
(Figure  1). Clothing is affordable and includes local and Central
American brands. Their strongest competition are the multiple thrift
shops and secondhand stores that proudly advertise ropa americana—
used clothing coming directly from the USA—including a variety of
American brands popular among all groups: Aeropostale, Tommy
Hilfiger, and Calvin Klein. The mark of the wealthy nineteenth-century
coffee oligarchy is present in the architectural gems that survive the load
of numerous signs advertising the stores that now occupy the buildings.
The pride of the country, the 1897 National Theater, is the greatest sym-
bol of the inheritance from the coffee oligarchy who taxed themselves
to build a theater inspired by the great European opera houses. Today,
the theater stands quietly as people walk up and down the many stores
that surround it.
Appearance management is important to mostly everyone walking
around the city. I know this from childhood. Growing up as the young-
est of four kids in a working-class family, I learned about managing
low resources in clothing: ironing clothes well, keeping shoes shined,
taking off your uniform immediately upon returning home from school.
576 José Blanco F.

Figure 1
Clothing displayed at a
low-price store near Avenida
Central. Author’s image.

Therefore, Josefinos know that managing one’s appearance presents

an opportunity to show taste and—depending on income—the abil-
ity to discern between trends, colors, and brands. For instance, selec-
tion of good shoes has always been praised in Costa Rica regardless
of whether they are lace-ups or loafers worn by businessmen and of-
fice workers, or board and tennis shoes used by younger generations.
Concern for style is also evident in the selection of denim pants—a
garment Margaret Maynard (2004) claims is highly significant when
defining global uniformity. Design and brand become the only way to
differentiate among those able to afford premium denim. The matter,
however, is further complicated by the fact that people of low resources
can easily buy used brand jeans at the aforementioned ropa americana
stores. Maynard (2004) discusses how the use of secondhand apparel
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 577

complicates ­notions of globalized clothing and consumption of branded

goods; she further questions that brands have global uniformed mean-
ings. Ropa americana stores are popular with some customers who
may assign meaning to purchasing an identifiable brand, while others
may purchase branded clothing completely unaware of connotations
associated to that brand.
Around Avenida Central, we also notice that nearly every man carries
a backpack or a messenger bag. My nephews tell me that the contents
of backpacks and bags are quite standard: notebooks, pens, clothes,
recent purchases, undisposed trash, lunch, a toothbrush, a sweater, a
hoodie or windbreaker, and a very important accessory in Costa Rica:
an umbrella (it rains an average of 170 days per year in the Central
Valley where San José is located). Every well-prepared man carries an
umbrella—a paraguas, actually. Two different words are used in Costa
Rica to describe umbrellas. The word sombrilla has a feminine connota-
tion and describes umbrellas used by women which are often colorful
or incorporate patterns while the word paraguas has a masculine con-
notation and refers specifically to black umbrellas—often long with a
wooden handle—used by men.
A few blocks north from Avenida Central is Paseo de los Estudiantes.
The street connects two of the oldest and most reputable high schools
in the city: the Liceo de Costa Rica and the Colegio de Señoritas, the
former exclusively for male students and the latter for females. A con-
troversial development is the new Barrio Chino or Chinatown. The area
received a major facelift sponsored by the Chinese government in sup-
port of a handful of Chinese businesses and aiming to attract further
development. Nearby is Plaza Víquez, another important recreational
space. The plaza is always active with people playing competitive soccer
or swimming in the community pool. Like any other areas in the city
occupied mainly by working- and middle-class people, most men wear
jeans with T-shirts, polo shirts, or short-sleeved shirts.

Always Coca Cola: Working Class, Immigrants, and

the Red-Light District

Working-class men are part of the hustle and bustle of many areas in
San José including the market and bus terminal known as the “Coca
Cola” (the bottling plant used to be here many years ago) (Figure 2).
The “Coca-Cola” is the busiest transportation hub in the city and the
departure point for many who come to the city center in search for
a variety of affordable goods and services. At night, there are cheap
motels and dance places where the working class dances the night away.
To the west is Parque la Merced, a gathering place for immigrants from
Nicaragua. These sort of ethnic enclaves were rare in San José in the
past, but have become more common as immigration from other Latin
578 José Blanco F.

Figure 2
Weekday activity in San José.
Author’s image.

American countries—mainly Nicaragua, Colombia, and the Dominican

Republic—increased in the new millennium. The paisas, as Nicaraguans
are known by Costa Ricans, gather at the park right across from the
beautiful church of La Merced in the afternoons, evenings, and par-
ticularly on Sundays. López García (1999) believes the park plays an
important social function in the city as a site of inclusion. Men in the
park wear shorts, jeans, polo shirts, T-shirts, dress shirts, and jackets or
hoodies. Their wardrobe makes them indistinctive from any other Costa
Rican man, but their accents are markedly different. Not far from the
Nicaraguan gathering space is “Tierra Dominicana.” The Dominican
enclave is located around Avenida 7 and Calle 8 and in the proximity of
Cine Líbano, a famous live performance theater at the turn of the twen-
tieth century that also had incarnations as a movie theater and a church.
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 579

There are small restaurants and locales flanked by Dominican flags. At

night, the streets—peppered with cheap brothels—are plagued with
crime and gang activity. Tourists frequent the area apparently oblivious
to the fact that it is dangerous at night and merits heavy police presence.
San José has a new role providing a gathering place for those who look
for the connection and comfort of finding others who have abandoned
their country of origin. Nationality becomes a salient component of the
masculine identity of immigrants in San José albeit the lack of markedly
different dress practices.
To continue exploring working-class hangouts, we drive around Calle
6 and Avenida 5 on a cold July evening. We see a few brothels and small
bars that rent rooms by the hour. The customers are usually drunk men
with little money searching for quick fun. Rumor is that many of them
are robbed at the bar or by their night companions—that is if they have
not already left their savings at the slot machines by the entrance. There
are also numerous pawnshops and a variety of Chinese food restau-
rants. The bars decidedly cater to men, many of whom pay short-term
rent for a small room. Some of the rooms are so inexpensive that home-
less people can obtain shelter and access to a shower for a night. The
nearby Avenida 10 is one of the main driving routes through San José.
The avenue is an active commercial spot for the working classes who
frequent the small stores selling affordable clothing. The stores occupy
old low-rent buildings—some of which are architectural gems. Each
store seems to have four or five well-dressed sales associates who often
outnumber customers. There are also popular flea and farmer markets
as well as plenty of low-priced mechanic shops. The area is most active
at the intersection of La Castellana, a gas station that has been used as
a reference point for decades. Here, working-class masculinity parades
up and down the popular priced zapaterías (shoe stores), talabarterías
(makers of leather goods), or the discounted clothing stores. At night,
the streets are full of people walking freely on the road as if cars should
not even be there.
This section of San José connects to the old brothels and nightclubs
at the zona roja or red-light district. Urban decay is palpable by day; at
night, the scene is populated by prostitutes (male, female, and transsex-
ual), drug dealers, and their customers. Here working-class men engage
in the stereotypical rituals of manhood at brothels decorated with shiny
curtains and low lights. The strip clubs offer a masculine, testosterone-
charged environment and a gathering space for men wearing their staple
jeans or dress pants with button-front shirts or T-shirts. Among the
most famous locales are Pantera Rosa (Pink Panther), Josephine’s, and
Molino Rojo—a “poor man’s” version of Paris’s Moulin Rouge. These
places were well known when I was young and always sparked my cu-
riosity. They do not anymore; although at 2,000 colones for entrance
fee (about US$4) I am sure it is still a great deal. The red-light district
is also close to the old train station to the Pacific coast were several gay
580 José Blanco F.

clubs are located, sharing space at Avenida 16 and Calle 2 with a few
bars famous among working classes.
Others in Costa Rica refer to those who frequent this area in pejora-
tive terms including la canalla or el populacho. This is a reflection of
the economic status of men who toil for a living in these spaces and fall
low in the hierarchy of masculinities. Kaufman (1997) has indicated
that power hierarchies between different groups of men and between
different masculinities exist and that those are usually based on race
and class. Little research on the dress of urban working classes exists,
perhaps because brand, design, color, or details in clothing are mostly
irrelevant to those aiming to merely survive. Still, men here seem to care
for their appearance—a cultural trait that, as I mentioned earlier—runs
deep in Costa Ricans.

La Sabana: Soccer and Masculine Pastimes

I was always a horrible soccer player and, yes, I always felt less of a man
for being so. Visiting any of the numerous places where men practice
sports in San José is a clear reminder of my failure at sports and how that
was—in the eyes of many—an indicator of my masculinity being out of
synch with everyone else’s.7 The largest and most iconic public space
in San José is the Parque Metropolitano La Sabana, a gem of an urban
park with an area of 0.72 km² (about 0.28 square miles) (Figure  3).
Located in the western part of the city, the park was formally created
in 1977. From its beginning, La Sabana offered a gathering place and

Figure 3
Sunday afternoon at La
Sabana. Author’s image.
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 581

a free outing for Josefinos. When we visit the park on a Sunday, we

find it packed with people, most of them families from the San José
metropolitan area and a large number of immigrant families. During
the week, an occasional a businessperson invades the space searching
for a quiet lunch spot. The streets surrounding La Sabana are covered
with office buildings where businessmen dress to either conform to
corporate rules or highlight their financial status. Most of them will
return to the suburbs and commuter towns where they spend nights and
weekends. Nevertheless, as I said, it is Sunday and colorful sports cloth-
ing dominates the landscape. Men play soccer, basketball, and several
other sports proudly wearing apparel identifying their favorite local and
global sports teams. The activity continues at the track and field areas,
the spots for aerobic exercises, and a competitive roller-skating track.
There are clowns making balloon animals, snack vendors, and well-
groomed Scout troops in full uniform consisting of blue pants and light
blue shirts decorated with the appropriate badges and insignias. Most
of the young men at the park wear colorful T-shirts or tank tops with
jeans, cargo pants, and athletic shorts. We notice several piercings and
some visible tattoos. Outerwear includes jackets, hoodies, and pullovers
even though it is about 70 degrees outside. Tennis and skateboarding
shoes abound, with young men wearing white, brown, or black shoes
and mostly young boys wearing bright colors.
La Sabana is a point in the city where different masculinities merge.
Crossover spaces for men are mostly related to entertainment and, par-
ticularly, with activities associated to drinking or watching and practic-
ing sports. Soccer is the soul of the national masculinity—if there exists
one. Julio César González Pagés (2010) argues that, historically, the
world of sports behaves as a space of legitimization and re-enactment of
pre-established social relations. At soccer stadiums, ticket prices reflect
the comforts of one’s chosen section (better seats, a roof, etc.). However,
the soccer stadium is still an equalizer for all men as they engage in the
same activity. Although plenty of women attend games, in Costa Rica,
soccer is still mostly a male-dominated activity. Lois Bryson (1987) dis-
cusses sports as a gendered institution supporting male dominance by
naturalizing a connection between masculinity and skills needed on the
soccer field such as aggression, physical strength, and negation of the
feminine. According to Bryson, if gender is the main organizing element
of sports then, the space and activities generated at the stadium are
equally male oriented and dominated. At the sports arena, as Eduardo
Archetti (1998) explains, men are in constant activity and working
together to create anthems and nicknames, moving together like a
well-structured engine. Men share in the activities and the many insults
directed at the players and referees. The soccer field also allows men to
break rules of masculine behavior applied to other spaces, for instance,
slightly slapping each other’s behind in congratulatory or celebratory
mood. It is almost as if the stadium allows for a completely different
582 José Blanco F.

type of masculinity to come into play. The relaxed, casual, and sporty
clothes all men wear allow them to become children and jesters for a
short period and, occasionally, break with hierarchies and parameters
that so dominate other geographies of masculinity in San José.
Sergio Villena Fiengo (2012) analyzes the connection between na-
tionalism and soccer in Costa Rica and narrates the evolution of soccer
from an activity popular among the elite to a form of popular entertain-
ment and a national pastime. Every time the national team plays, fans
around the nation are united wearing tricolor (red, white, and blue)
clothing. Soccer, then, becomes one of the few activities capable of
creating a national identity visibly through dress and fashion. For that
reason, maintaining the structure of soccer alive is important. The game
and fandom around it are nearly ritualized. Soccer clubs are well struc-
tured and organized. Uniforms and clothes used by players and fans
are distinctive. Team uniforms are heavily regulated and occasionally
organized groups of fans (barras) regulate their own attire. Following
a soccer team generates an important sense of belonging in most Costa
Rican men and the currency of soccer knowledge—and even more so the
currency of being a good soccer player—functions as a form of cultural
capital (Bourdieu 1984). Club preference is often inherited from the
father or other masculine figures in the family and, only occasionally,
people support a different team. Fandom can be rabid and violent. For
my brothers, nephews, and friends soccer is a daily concern and show-
ing allegiance to a team is important to the extreme that some people
avoid wearing any clothes in colors that identify other teams. The two
top teams and rivals are Deportivo Saprissa—known by its white and
a light purple color scheme—and Liga Deportiva Alajuelense with a
black and red color scheme. My nephew Mauricio—a fervent fan of
Saprissa—insists that he would never wear black and red combinations,
while my nephew Pablo—a fan of Alajuela—seems revolted by the color
purple. Particularly important is to avoid wearing the colors of one’s
team in the proximity of fans from the opposite team. Another one of
my nephews, Alberto, tells me of an instance when walking in the wrong
establishment wearing a bracelet of his team nearly got him beaten-up.
Stripping a fan from a rival team of his team’s jersey is akin to obtaining
a trophy that can then be proudly showcased at the stadium.
Athletes themselves are privileged in Costa Rica, as they are in most
of the world, making large amounts of money and granted special
privileges and eccentricities. Costa Rican soccer players are likely to
reflect elements of metrosexuality that may be considered affected in
other men. Soccer players groom, take care of their skin, pluck their
eyebrows, and wear fashionable and designer clothes following tenden-
cies that Stella Bruzzi (2000) has called “football chic.” Bryan Ruíz—a
Costa Rican playing for Fulham F.C. in the English Premiere League
and the captain of the Costa Rican national team—has profited from
his popularity by creating his own brand of sports clothing. The body
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 583

type and muscular composition of soccer players is often seen as the

desired standard for men in Costa Rica. Average body type, however,
is quite different. Most men are short and slim and gain weight as they
grow older. Men in San José spend a lot of time working out at the gym,
but the goal is usually to develop a toned physique and not necessarily
to develop large muscular mass. Jogging, walking, and playing soccer
are favored activities. Appearance management is even important at the
gym where men dress not only for the comfort of exercising, but also to
maintain a positive personal image. Men do not go to the gym wearing
old clothes and looking disheveled; they invest in known brands and
good design for workout apparel. At the gym, brand functions as a
symbol of status.
Discussing gender identity among Peruvian men, Norma Fuller
(2003) argues that in Latin America, appearance management—par-
ticularly of the face—is associated with inner qualities and therefore
people perceive body appearance as a man’s social worth. In Costa Rica,
good appearance management skills can open doors in both work and
social settings. Grooming is an important ritual for most Josefino men.
They shave often, if not daily, and use plenty of products for hairstyl-
ing. They are also concerned with managing smell and cologne is al-
most universally used. We observe a fair number of men who plucked
their eyebrows. The trend gained wider acceptance in the last decade.
Many men also fully shave their head or keep a well-trimmed buzz cut.
Formal hats are not used in the city and only bohemians sport fedora
hats, while beanie and baseball hats are popular among younger men
and boys. Barbershops in San José were always enclaves of masculinity.
Spas and high-end hair salons for men are becoming more common
as younger men are interested in hairstyling and not merely haircuts.
While the idea of a man in a salon may not reflect local stereotypes of
masculinity, taking care of one’s appearance is commended.

Workplace: Suits and Uniforms

There is a clear demarcation in terms of apparel and appearance

management in the workplace. Wilbur Zelinsky (2004) describes the
standard business suit as a central component of globalized male attire
and indicates that, historically, the adoption of business suits indicated
the level of modernity in a society. Most San José ejecutivos—those in
management positions in private businesses or public institutions—are
considered the “face of the business” in front of stakeholders and are
expected or required to wear business suits. When not wearing a suit,
formal wardrobe for a man includes at least a tie, a dress shirt, dress
pants, and dress shoes. Most of my friends who work at this level op-
pose the use of uniforms for anyone in managerial positions, but sup-
port the use of uniforms for every employee engaged in direct customer
584 José Blanco F.

service. They tell me that such employees should exclusively represent

the company and not their own personality, but that those in managerial
positions should enjoy the freedom of expressing individuality and taste
through fashion choices. Opposition to allowing employees to dress
freely stems from the concern that not everyone understands clearly
what type of wardrobe is acceptable for the workplace as well as the
resulting range of looks at the institution. The solution for most busi-
nesses is to require employees to wear a uniform that consists of casual
dress pants and a short sleeve shirt or a polo shirt embroidered with the
company’s logo. Employees are also discouraged from wearing sports
shoes at work. Uniformity in customer service is accepted by most office
workers who find the uniform an affordable alternative, eliminating the
need to renew their wardrobe often and select clothes every morning;
the uniform is, indeed, cheaper and simpler. Some businesses provide
uniforms to employees at no cost, but in many cases employees organize
themselves to suggest a new uniform and, after approval from the insti-
tution, pay for the uniform themselves. A common agreement is that if
the uniform does not include a company logo, then workers pay the full
amount or half of the price but if it includes a logo, then the company
must cover the cost of the uniform. If employees have issues with wear-
ing uniforms is not because they oppose the idea, but because they do
not like the design or the quality of the fabric used. Casual Friday is
still practiced in Costa Rica and the dress code is relaxed that day with
some businesses even allowing employees to wear jeans. Athletic shoes
are never permitted.
Regulations on dress code are enforced by human resource offices
via a formal written note. Torn jeans are considered disrespectful; tight
pants or shirts are considered inappropriate. There are no rules about
facial hair grooming, but clean-shaven looks and short hair is expected.
Long hair is not approved, not because it questions masculinity, but
simply because it signals lack of seriousness. A couple of people tell
me that one common exception to these rules is for men with moder-
ate Rastafarian hair—long ropelike strands of hair formed into dread-
locks—which is considered an intrinsic part of the man’s personality.
Most of my friends assure me that clothes hardly ever determine the
perception of someone’s masculinity. For example, in most instances,
piercings and visible tattoos are discouraged for employees dealing di-
rectly with customers simply because they are not considered a sign of
a serious individual and not for any other stigmas associated with those
body modifications.
In general, men understand the importance of dressing well and
appropriately for the workplace. Norma Fuller (2000) explains that
in Latin America, having a job is an essential element of masculine
identity and that joining the workforce means to achieve the condi-
tion of adulthood—a precondition to establish a family. Marco Gómez
(2007) believes men conceive work as a means of achieving masculine
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 585

s­ atisfaction and that having a job is the main source of their identity.
Most working men who are not limited by the use of uniforms will as-
semble a significant wardrobe with a variety of dress pants, long-sleeved
shirts, ties, dress shoes, and include a couple of polo or short-sleeved
shirts for casual Friday. Formality and muted colors dominate and most
men are not too adventurous in color, shape, or fit. On a weekday we
stand outside the Instituto Nacional de Seguros (National Insurance
Institute) waiting for my cousins to go out for lunch. A large number
of employees gather outside the building, eating packed lunches or just
enjoying their break (Figure 4). Most men wear black, brown, or navy
blue pants and we see just a few khaki or dark green trousers. Shirts
are mostly solid with just a few featuring stripes. Ties are wide and
mostly solid. In general, clothes are well matched and not too fitted, but

Figure 4
Lunchtime at Instituto Nacional
de Seguros (National Insurance
Institute). Author’s image.
586 José Blanco F.

younger men do seem to wear more fashionable and fitted garments.

Employees in customer service, as expected, wear their uniform.
Jennifer Craik (2005) has discussed the origin and normative nature
of uniforms. She argues that uniforms play a dominant role in train-
ing the body and defining modes of masculinity. The truth is that, in
Costa Rica, we are accustomed to wearing uniforms from an early
age. Uniforms are mandatory from kindergarten to high school in all
public schools and most private institutions. Color, design, and other
details including hemming are regulated by schools. Uniforms in San
José establish not only appearance, but also behavior codes. As Craik
(2005) argues, corporate uniforms not only suppress individuality, but
also support customer relations in the sense that a uniformed employee
may seem more trustworthy and knowledgeable. The rationale is that
appearance reflects not only on the employee, but also on the employer.
My nephew, Mauricio, is a mechanic and tells me that he must always
wear his uniform—dark short-sleeved shirt and pants—and that he is
never allowed to wear baseball hats or grow a beard. He does complain
that his particular uniform is too constricting for a mechanic and that
he would prefer comfortable clothes such as T-shirts and lighter pants or
jeans. Another friend who is a police officer tells me that he is required
to shave daily and that officers are allowed to have a well-kept mus-
tache but never a beard. They must also keep short hair, trimmed nails,
and neat and clean uniforms, following stipulations and using proper
insignias, with tucked shirts and polished shoes. Appearance in all of
these cases are examples of what Joanne Entwistle (1997) classifies as
“managed self,” where external—in this case corporate—forces control
the body and the clothes it wears. That managed self, then, abounds
in San José where people wearing uniforms are everywhere: hospital
nurses, lab technicians, delivery boys, gas pump attendants, restaurant
waiters, mechanics, parking lot guards, etc. Entwistle (1997) defines the
“enterprising self” in opposition to the managed self as an individually
produced appearance developed in relative autonomy and through a
regime of individual work. In the corporate work, the above-mentioned
ejecutivos represent the enterprising self. Self-ruling appearances thrive
elsewhere in the city in the hands of urban groups who define individu-
ality and group association by freely managing their appearance. Men
of all ages, but particularly young ones—deliberately or not—challenge
accepted notions of masculine appearance and take to the city’s public
spaces in a variety of alternative styles.

“Enamórate de tu ciudad”: San José for Everyone

On Saturday morning, we venture to downtown San José to explore the

city parks. We start with Parque España where we run into a large crowd
gathered there for “Enamórate de tu ciudad” (Fall in Love with your
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 587

City), a program of activities sponsored by the Ministerio de Cultura

y Juventud (Ministry of Culture and Youth; 2011) aimed to increase
use of public spaces (Figure 5). When we arrive, we see mostly young
people wearing polo shirts, T-shirts, and jeans. I am surprised to dis-
cover a group of men wearing sweatpants—something not commonly
seen in the city since the late 1980s. We later realize they are parkour
enthusiasts offering a free workshop (Figure 6). At the adjoining Parque
Morazán we see a number of men with long hair, tie-dye shirts, and
clothing with hippie motifs. They are selling jewelry. A few steps from
them we find a group of young men juggling; their piercings and tattoos
are quite visible and they wear black jeans, shorts, cargo pants, along
with T-shirts or tanks tops. Their skateboards are nearby. Piercings are
quite common in San José. Young men wear them on their eyebrows,

Figure 5
Men near Parque España on a
Saturday afternoon. Author’s
image.
588 José Blanco F.

Figure 6
Men practicing parkour during
“Enamorate de tu Ciudad” (Fall
in Love with your City). Author’s
image.

lips, noses, and ears—including ear-gauging pieces. Less than half a mile
away, Parque Nacional is quieter on this Saturday morning with a vari-
ety of people relaxing on the benches. We remember rumors of this park
being a gay-friendly place and immediately notice—perhaps influenced
by that rumor—that the men around the park are well groomed and
wear tighter fitting clothes. We walk half a mile to Plaza de la Cultura
at Avenida Central, which is quite crowded with street performers and
outdoor activities at the museums. Plaza de la Cultura is a gathering
place for Costa Ricans. Tourists are drawn here because of the famed
Hotel Costa Rica and the beautiful Teatro Nacional.
After our Saturday walk, I am certain that the kaleidoscope of mas-
culinities in San José is not complete without discussing a number of
urban youth groups. “Chata” is a term used pejoratively to describe ur-
ban young males who favor reggaetón music. A majority of followers of
the style live in working-class neighborhoods. Their fashion is inspired
by that of Puerto Rican reggaetón artists such as Daddy Yankee and
Don Omar. Chatas usually wear jeans and oversized T-shirts along with
brand new and obsessively clean baseball hats that occasionally still
bear the sales tag. Their athletic shoes are kept impeccably clean. Their
hair is closely shaven and includes faux mohawks or designs made with
razors at the newly popular “barbershops.” The term “barbershop”—in
English—is used to refer to hair salons frequented by young men. They
are different from the old-fashioned “barberías”—the Spanish word for
barbershop—frequented by older men. Hair stylists at the urban bar-
bershops are young. They sport hairstyles similar to those they provide.
Older male barbers and female hairdressers serve barberías.
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 589

In 2013, skateboarders are known as “skatos” but in the past, they

were merely described as “añejos” (scruffy or disheveled) based on a
stereotype of their presumed lack of concern for hygiene and appear-
ance. The skatos we see in San José nowadays match a global style for
skateboarders wearing skinny jeans, long T-shirts, and skate shoes from
brands such as Vans, DC, and Converse or from local brands Zapatos
Figueres and Bilsa. Arenas, a store originally located in San Pedro
and recently expanded to other locations, has catered to skateboard-
ers for decades. Skateboarding style often crosses over to those who
favor a punk aesthetic and particularly to surfers or “surfos.” Surfing
is increasing in popularity among men in the metropolitan area and
my two surfer nephews tell me that a good suntan and a slim physique
are a good indicator that someone may be a surfo. Hair could be long,
short, or even fixed in dreadlocks for those called “Rasta” even if they
are not really Rastafarians. Board shorts, sandals, T-shirts, or sleeve-
less shirts create the look for surfers in and out of the water, although
some may use Lycra pieces while surfing. Volcom, Billabong, RVCA,
Quicksilver—brands associated with skateboarders and surfers in many
other countries—are favored in Costa Rica and can be purchased in a
number of San José stores including Arenas, Mango, Quique, and Roca
Bruja.
Emos, as anywhere else in the world, are distinguished for their
mostly dark clothes including skinny jeans and T-shirts. In San José,
the T-shirts often bear logos of alternative rock bands and elements of
American popular culture. They are not to be confused with the “pun­
ketos” or fans of punk music that follow punk trends including black
leather jackets with metallic pieces and mohawks, a hairstyle known in
Costa Rica as sierra. “Goticos,” those interested in Goth music, also
follow international Goth style, including dark apparel, white makeup,
and high platform shoes. Followers of hard rock and heavy metal music
or “metaleros,” dress similar to punketos and goticos. They are known,
however, for sticking to an all-black wardrobe and wearing zapatos
burro—tall, black high-heeled fitted boots with metal pieces or studs.
They sport visible tattoos and piercings and their T-shirts feature heavy
metal band logos. Both Iron Maiden and Metallica have acknowledged
San José fans as particularly devoted. There are also men who follow
skinhead styles, but they are not as visible as those mentioned earlier.
Piercings and tattoos are not associated with a specific group but are
prevalent among many. Piercings are placed on the tongue, nose, eye-
brow, or lips. Neck bars (a bar-shaped piercing across the neck), indus-
trial piercings (bars across the ear), and ear expansions are common.
Barrio La California plays host at night to a variety of bars where dif-
ferent groups gather. The bar Latino Rock, for instance, has a number
of themed nights playing reggae music on Wednesdays and thus attract-
ing the Costa Rican and tourist Rastafarian community; while on other
days they play rock music attracting the black T-shirt and jeans rock
590 José Blanco F.

crowd. La Esquina is a magnet for those interested in grunge. The bar

is a gathering place for a very specific crowd: Bookies, those who work
in call centers taking bets from American callers. Dress codes are more
relaxed in this type of work environment where communication with
customers is via telephone or Internet, therefore tattoos, piercings, long
hair and overall “grungy” looks are more prevalent. Another group to
mention is the fans of tropical music (salsa and merengue)—known as
salseros and merengueros—who nowadays gather at dance schools such
as Rumba and Merecumbé, forming tightknit groups that showcase
their dancing skills at dance salons with strict dress codes, forbidding
men from wearing sleeveless shirts, short pants, or baseball hats. Men
belonging to all these groups are important participants in consump-
tion practices around the city. Their fashion choices not only help them
define themselves but also forge connections with other urban dwell-
ers. Marije van Lidth de Jeude and Oliver Schütte (2010) in their study
about culture and development in the Costa Rican greater metropolitan
area discuss the appropriation and identification by these urban groups
of different spaces in San José. The authors also insist on the need to
develop public spaces to provide a stronger connection between urban
groups and San José.

Tourists, Bohemians, and Students

Barrio Amón is a historic district with late-nineteenth and early-

twentieth-century buildings. Tourists, city office workers, and residents
enjoy the neighborhood’s urban revival. Restaurants, including Café de
los Deseos and Café Mundo, are popular with the office set, business
executive types, and the bohemian and gay communities. There are
also a number of small clothing boutiques, souvenir stores, and hotels.
When we have lunch at Café Mundo on a weekday, we notice the place
crowded with young professionals. All of them are well dressed; sport-
ing ties, dress shirts, and dress pants. We notice a contrast between men
and women; as women are dressed more fashionably while men are
wearing standard business attire, which may or may not include a suit
jacket. Some people are working during lunch but the atmosphere is
relaxed. At night, this is mostly a gay restaurant or as Costa Ricans
would put it, a place “de ambiente” (with ambiance) as gay venues are
described. Nearby, at Paseo de las Damas hotels for tourists include
Hotel Colonial, Hotel Paseo de las Damas, and the Aurola Holiday Inn.
Key Largo—a bar and nightclub for tourists—has had a stronghold in
the area for decades. The place is a well-known escort establishment
where tourists pay hundreds of dollars for female company. There are
also some casinos targeting tourists. Mocking the look of tourists is
a national pastime. Regardless of any other features, tourists are im-
mediately identified for their appearance because, well … few people in
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 591

San José wear short pants, cargo pants, sandals with socks, and hiking
boots while in the city.
San José has an active gay scene, including a number of bars,
dance clubs, and an increasing number of gay-friendly hotels and
restaurants. Gay bars range from the popular dance place La Avispa
to Bochinche—frequented by young middle-class men. Club O and
Venue serve a mostly upper- and upper-middle-class clientele. The one
place where everyone seems to find themselves eventually is Puchos
on Calle 11, a venue known for nude go-go boy shows. Gay culture
is visible in San José and the gay community openly embraced local
events such as the Tope—a popular horseback riding parade at the
end of the year. Openly gay males are part of everyday life in San
José and—as in other parts of the world—are considered good dress-
ers and fashion authorities. Male gay fashion in Costa Rica is quite
uniformed and similar in style to large American or European cities.
The styling includes trendy pieces by well-known brands, nice polo
shirts or T-shirts, skinny jeans, and fashionable brand shoes. Absent
from most gay bars are short pants and tank tops as the style is seen
as too informal by most Costa Ricans. Differences with gay fashion in
other urban global centers are the presence of a greater range of colors
and the use of built-up hairstyling achieved with copious amounts of
product. A clean-shaven facial look dominates in part due to work
place regulations that discourage facial hair. Showing status through
clothing and using a toned body as currency are significant traits in the
San José gay community.
At the Universidad de Costa Rica (University of Costa Rica)—also
known as “UCR” or just as the “U”—fashion for male students and
faculty is relaxed, but not extremely casual. On campus, most men wear
jeans, cargo pants, or saggy pants matched with T-shirts, polo shirts,
and the ever-present backpacks or messenger bags. The contrast is stark
with my American students in Georgia. In Costa Rica, I see an almost
total lack of khaki and sport shorts or any other type of athletic gar-
ments. Informality in dress was not acceptable when I was a student
here years ago and it seems athletic apparel still has no place in most
university campuses in the country. The exception is the more adventur-
ously dressed bohemian and creative types in the art and social sciences
schools. People often refer to UCR students using the pejorative term
chancleteros or sandal-wearers. The truth is that we do not see any-
body wearing sandals on campus, but the term has been around since
the 1960s when hippie-styled college students lead protests for social
justice. UCR students are still leaders in organizing protests and the less-
than-well-groomed aspect of some of them continues to define general
perception. The creative bohemian types that abound in the UCR also
roam the capital’s art and museum scene. Near the Museo Nacional,
souvenir vendors also dress in boho-chic styles with pieces—often for
sale at their stalls—including local and native crafts. The creative art
592 José Blanco F.

elite men—when not dressed for formal occasions—sport a relaxed

style that includes jeans or light cotton pants and pullover shirts with
laces or cords as closures similar to the cotona, a tightly woven cotton
shirt worn in Latin America.
Less than a mile east of the UCR is Universidad Latina, just one ex-
ample of the abundant private universities appearing in Costa Rica in
the 1980s as neoliberal economic policies shifted the previously socialist
leaning of the country. People describe the students at private universi-
ties as chicos lindos or pretty boys, reflecting the fact that men attending
private universities usually come from upper-middle classes. Private uni-
versities are packed on evenings and Saturdays with young men wearing
stylish pants, premium brand jeans, polo shirts, high-end T-shirts, and
fashionable dress shirts. Clothing choices do not seem to be aimed at
a display of status or knowledge of fashion trends, but merely because
of the belief that one must be presentable in all professional settings,
including school.

Where Do We Get All This Stuff?

I hardly ever buy clothes when I go back to San José. Not only are
prices significantly higher than in the USA, but I also have trouble
figuring out balance between quality and price in the different stores.
A great majority of men rely on mothers, wives, girlfriends, and fe-
male friends for assistance in buying clothes. Many of my relatives
and friends do tell me that they prefer if women buy their clothes or,
at the very least, guide them in the process. Shopping for clothes is
intimidating for many men. The always well-dressed sales associates
earn commissions on sales; therefore, they are insistent and follow
customers around the store. Additionally, many stores that sell busi-
ness wear for men still function on a system where the merchandise
is behind the counter and the customer asks sales associates to show
them products. Dress shirts, for instance, are packed and sales associ-
ates open them upon request from the customer. If the customer does
not purchase the shirt, the sales associate folds it, repacks it, and puts it
away immediately. Informal trade practices are carried out by traveling
sales people who bring wares to homes and return once a month to
collect payment for purchases and offer new merchandise. These sales
people are still known as polacos—referring to the door-to-door sales-
men of Jewish-Polish origin that came to Costa Rica during and after
the Second World War.
Fashion for most men in San José is based on the same basic garments,
but the geography of fashion consumption is more complex. There are
clear lines separating the ropa americana and bargain stores from the
brand stores at state-of-the-art shopping malls for the wealthy in places
such as Escazú, Los Yoses, and Rohrmoser. Middle-class men are likely
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 593

to navigate between those options, favoring known brands and better

stores. Shopping malls offer spaces that—though private—operate as
public; anyone can go to the mall for a walk, to have a cup of coffee,
or to actually visit the stores. Large shopping centers in Costa Rica are
indistinctive from those in other parts of the world. Globalized aesthet-
ics in store design and merchandise offerings are familiar to the upper
classes and upper-middle classes who—before Costa Rica’s full insertion
into globalized trade—were used to traveling to the USA at least once a
year for clothes shopping. Global clothing products are now produced,
distributed, and consumed in San José. Prices for well-known brands at
the mall are still high and traveling to the USA in search for bargains
may still be a better deal for the middle and upper classes, which com-
bine the shopping trip with a vacation.
Stores at high-end shopping malls cater to the wealthy. Well-off
young urban dandies in San José spend considerable amounts of time
grooming themselves, ironing their clothes to perfection, and choosing
the perfect pair of shoes. Fit and size, however, present a challenge since
the clothes available at the expensive stores are designed for the larger
frame of the American man. Costa Rican men often resort to tailors
for alterations and variations of a look. Tailors have never gone out of
style in San José and several establishments thrive around the city. Shoe
cobblers, including Zapatería Calderón, and umbrella repair stores such
as Paragueria Rego also abound in the city allowing men to repair their
favorite pieces and use them for years. San José stores catering to a
diversity of middle-class tastes include Palmettos, Roca Bruja, Carrion,
CitiMall, and Extremos. Many of these stores have opened branches in
some of the new malls by redesigning their store design to match the
architectural and promotional trends at shopping centers.

Conclusion: A Man in a City Is a Man is a Man

The relation between masculinity and fashion in San José is a complex

one by the mere fact that masculinities in the city—as described above—
are diverse, changing, and changeable. Are uniformed office workers
the face of Josefino masculinities or is that a role claimed by those in
upper management? Is fashion about the men who follow global trends
and up-to-date fashion styles or is it about those who get it ten years
later at the ropa americana stores? What about the skatos and chatas,
or the range of dress practices for male students? What about other
masculinities not even discussed, such as “feminine” men, “masculine”
women, transgender people, or natives coming from the reservations
into the city wearing elements of their “traditional” dress and creating
a visual landscape of clothing? Fashioned masculinities in San José are
part of the kaleidoscope of hybrid cultures producing meaning in post-
modern Latin America. As Biron (2009) explains:
594 José Blanco F.

Of course, cities are specially charged sites of contested mean-

ings. […] They bring large numbers of people together in physical
proximity, but they also increase social alienation and types of
exclusion. Cities live in real space and time, and they are made of
real material objects like concrete and bricks. However, they car-
ry meaning only through the ways in which people live in them,
imagine them, and represent them. It is impossible to separate
objective definitions, descriptions, and explanations of cities from
questions of perception, value, and meaning. The fact that cities
are at once material and imaginary, that they defy fixed definition
on either side of that dichotomy, grants them privileged status as
rich sites for cultural studies. (2009: 15)

And as such, San José is then … a city. A city struggling to become

modern while striving to preserve historic heritage; a city were many in-
vest to follow global fashion trends, a city where many social landscapes
are still dominated by men; a city where poverty and social alienation are
widespread. The San José man emerges from competing and converging
masculinities produced and negotiated in different social arenas, from
the soccer stadium to the exclusive shopping malls where informed and
often strategic decisions are made. All these men share the space of the
city and their fashion choices are indeed material culture that reflects
their daily lives, aspirations, occupations, and interests. Men define
themselves in these multiple spaces where geographic interactions and
crossover points allow for masculinities that are complex and fluid. The
city, the men in it, and the clothes they wear compose a language spoken
in many dialects and using a plethora of visual codes depending on a
local cultural script—such as the uniforms used in office spaces—or re-
sponding to international trends—such as those of skaters and surfers.
We are not the machos or day laborers the world sometimes assumes;
we are not just crazy drunk soccer fans; we do not just follow global
fashion—we also figure out how to manage appearance even when
economic resources are low. More important, we can—consciously or
unconsciously—emphasize one aspect of our masculinity over another
because the spatial layout of the city and urban practices allow us to
wear a suit, a well-selected workout outfit, and our trendy nightclub
outing outfit in the same day. Men in San José—like elsewhere—do not
just live in the city; we perform the city into existence by fashioning
ourselves into one or several performed masculinities. Different “San
Josés” are performed and the lived experiences of San José are different
and supported—as I hope I illustrated here—by the dress or fashion
men wear in different places and at different times. Fashion is indeed
important in the performance of identity and masculinity as rooted in
social relations and the need to comply with or challenge dress codes.
On a July afternoon, my partner and I walk around the city wearing
bright blue and bright yellow pants. It does not occur to us that we
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 595

Figure 7
A young man walks by graffiti
art depicting a Costa Rican
peasant in national traditional
attire. Author’s image.

look different from most men in the city. People stare. We receive some
compliments, but in the plurality of the city, we just add one more touch
to a complex visual of men’s fashion. We will get on a plane in early
August and travel back to the USA—there, some may still stare at my
pants—and in a few days I will forget that a short plane ride instantly
transforms me from a “majority” in Costa Rica to a “minority” in the
USA. I, then, remember that it does not matter anyhow because I have
learned through the years how to perform different identities: tomor-
row I will wear a tie to teach, tonight is jeans for the bar. I repeat the
ritual of performing masculinity through fashion the same way men in
San José and anywhere else do it every day. A man in a city is a man is
a man (Figure 7).

Notes

1. I gathered my field notes during two visits to San José, Costa Rica,
in July and December of 2013. I also offer this mapping of San José
and its masculinities as an auto-ethnography, contextualized on my
experience of the city as a Costa Rican man turned US citizen who
has the privilege to return and reflect on the changes, interactions,
and negotiations between San José and the men that work or live in
the city. For a similar approach, see Parada (2012). Parada discusses
his experience as an immigrant in Toronto and how he is met with
an entirely different set of gender, race, and ethnicity interactions
in South America and in Toronto. Feminist writers and minority
596 José Blanco F.

authors embrace personal narratives in part because they provide

an opportunity to engage in academic and theoretical discourses by
recording primary sources, data, and experiences from first-hand ac-
counts and within our own discourse within the culture as opposed
to narrated from external and standard voices. For a more detailed
discussion, see Holt (2003).
2. Researches have looked into how globalized urban settings embrace,
reflect, and sometimes are defined by fashion. For examples of the
marriage between urban studies and fashion theory see Breward and
Gilbert (2006) with several essays looking into the significance of
fashion and fashion consumption in defining major global cities. In
that tome Gilbert discusses components of a fashion city’s image
including fashion production networks, creative design, and active
consumption. Works specifically addressing Latin America include
Regina Root’s (2005) The Latin American Fashion Reader. Rita
Andrade’s essay “Mappin Stores: Adding an English Touch to the
Sao Paulo Fashion Scene” in The Latin American Fashion Reader
describes Sao Paulo’s evolution as a modern city, transformed—just
as San José—by the wealthy coffee oligarchy. Also in the The Latin
American Fashion Reader, Fabricio Forastelli describes Buenos Aires
and the myriad of aspects related to fashion that a trip through the
city makes evident, including issues of poverty, social protest, impact
of the weather, economic discourse, cultural regulations, transna-
tional influences, etc. in his essay “Scattered Bodies, Unfashionable
Flesh.”
3. I struggled deciding whether to include a discussion on machismo in
this article. The concept, however, is so often associated with Latino
men that I had to address it in order to discuss Josefino masculinities.
Nonetheless, this is not an article about machismo. I hope that my
description of diverse masculinities in San José indicates to readers
that the macho stereotype is too narrow to describe Latino men—or
any men.
4. Some of these studies include: Lewis (1960, 1961), Rubel (1966),
Madsen (1973), and De Hoyos and De Hoyos (1966).
5. Américo Paredes (1993) points out the lack of proper language
communication skills and cultural preparation for many of the
anthropologists who authored the early studies on machismo. This
research has also been criticized by a number of authors who take
issue with the ethnocentric approach and the way the studies situate
machismo specifically among the lower social classes; see for exam-
ple Ramírez et al. (2002). Mara Viveros Vigoya (2003) argues that
a new research perspective in the field should take into considera-
tion the complex scenario of masculinity in Latin America analyzing
social construction and discourse and also taking into consideration
women’s points of view without disregarding ever-present gender in-
equalities. Alfredo Mirandé (1997) insists that the concept of ­macho
 SJO: Mapping Fashion and Masculinities in the Costa Rican Capital 597

goes beyond the hyper-masculine aggressive and abusive stereotype

to encompass how Latino men embrace a code of ethics that stresses
honor, respect, and courage. Matthew C. Gutmann (1996) has
shown that men in a working-class barrio of Mexico City devote
considerable time to parenting an image of male care-giving at strik-
ing odds with the prevailing notions of masculinity. Rafael Ramírez
(1999) cautions against overgeneralization and describes complex
masculinities in Puerto Rican culture.
6. There are a number of important studies about Costa Rican mascu-
linities among them: Gomáriz (1997), Rivera and Ceciliano (2004),
Carillo (2000), Jiménez and Quesada (1996), and Chant (2000).
7. I do not mean, however, to imply that the ability to play soccer is the
only variable to determine a Costa Rican man’s masculinity or that
soccer, as an institution, perpetuates any notion of machismo.

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