Almost any heterosexual in Western Culture will one day become familiar with ‒ sometimes against their will ‒ the arcane “rules” regarding “proper” marks of relationship progress. Take, for example, the engagement ring. According to the people who brainwash ‒ er, educate the masses ‒ on this little bauble, the heterosexual man must ‒ er, should ‒ expect to pay out two months of his salary for the correct ring to adorn his heterosexual fiancée’s finger. Oddly, there is no guideline on what she should spend for him. Sexism!
Thank goodness we of the poly-kinky-leather-bdsm-pervert community do not need such arcane and arbitrary rules to guide us, huh?
Yeah, trick question. If we truly didn’t want/need or weren’t even curious about whether there really are rules somewhere, people like me would be living on Ramen noodles. (Mmmm, ramen…)
Unfortunately, because of this hunger, well meaning, otherwise intelligent people tend to grab hold of whatever list, rule, book or other example they can find, regardless of its, um…wackiness. OK, I will try to be kinder. Let’s say, without any sense concerning whether such material has any standing in the reality-based community.
So here’s your reality check.
There is no “collar hierarchy.” If you want to call your collar by a fancy name, please feel free. Daphne’s Collar of Dominance has a nice ring to it. But please, don’t buy into the Ye Olde Guarde Purple Collar of Pondering nonsense. You want a purple collar? Go for it. Make all your gear in purple, you’ll be easy to find at big conferences. But never count on anyone else having read the source material that told you about the ancient leather traditions of purple collars, or, if they have read such a thing, that they will take you even the tiniest bit more seriously because of it.
Back when we had to hunt and kill the dinosaurs for our leather, I noticed there were four kinds of collars. The most common was called the Hartz Mountain Collar, available at pet stores everywhere. The second most common was the Cheap Mexican Leather Store collar often found at places which featured XXX in their blacked-out windows. Then was the Quality Leather Catalog collar, sometimes even made from premium leather, with or without studs, locks, snaps, D-rings and silver lettering. Finally, there was the Hardware Store Collar, which was made from some nice chain and a Master lock.
But what, you ask, did these collars mean?
They meant someone wanted a piece of decoration around a neck ‒ theirs, or someone else’s. You’d have to ask the individuals what the collar meant, because, believe it or not, there was and still is no universally understood rule concerning this.
For example, leather catalogs used to stock what was, to me, humorously called a Master’s collar. This was a leather collar, sometimes with lettering on it spelling MASTER, with no D-ring for attachments and no way of locking it on. Why did people wear these? Because they looked hot. Or, maybe they wanted to make sure you didn’t miss the clues otherwise provided by the floggers, hankies, and/or other flagging symbols they might be showing. Sometimes, people wear collar because they have a good-looking neck and want to draw attention to it.
Bottoms of many flavors will often wear a collar because they like to. I know, some tops out there have just passed out over their keyboards in shock. (OMG! Bottoms can’t collar themselves! The collar belongs to the top! Why if, bottoms collared themselves, what next? The decline of society as we know it! Yaaaaiiiiieeeee!)
But let’s face it; there’s no point in being a pervert if you can’t dress up like one. The only problem with bottoms slipping in a collar and going out to flirt is that they might be giving potential tops the impression that they already belong to someone else. And of course, all tops would then immediately back off and assume the position of polite distance. (Cough, cough.)
So some bottoms wear lockable collars with the lock in front and clearly open, inviting a good, flirty discussion over what sort of person might be happy to close that lock and/or replace the stand-in collar for another one.
More variations on this theme continue and sometimes make me roll my eyes. Giving someone a temporary collar while you date ‒ er, negotiate your relationship ‒ is nothing new. Naming it is…cute. Collars of Consideration, Protection, of whatever-the fuck-you-like are not from some ancient font of wisdom and lifestyle, not universally understood, and as useful and meaningful as my Hartz Mountain Collar of $2.99. Why? Because I could call my pet store collar anything I want, too.
Here’s the real deal, my friends. Collars, like anything else, are what you make of them. I’ve known people in committed relationships for decades who never wear any mark of their relationships; I’ve been to far too many “Lifetime Contract With Collar That Cannot Be Removed” ceremonies which ended in 60 days or less. The difference is not what you name things; it’s how you live and what you value.
So, if you want to have a system of progressive collars with special names and designs, you go for it. If you know, deep in your heart, that the only real collar is the one…
a) you made with your own hands
b) earned by polishing 100 sets of boots at the bar night
c) that was given by your first owner
d) made of titanium with a magnetic lock
e) you wear on weekends
f) you put on your treasured partner to signal it’s time to play
g) the one on Rover
h) other
…then you are partially right ‒ that is the only real collar for you. Today. Tomorrow is subject to renegotiation, along with the rest of life.
If you have assigned special meaning to a collar, whether it’s as basic as “this is what I like my partners to wear ‘cause it’s sexy as all get out” or as complicated as “This is the Cosmic Collar of Contemplation, which means I am in the 90-day period of self-reflection, meditating for guidance and wisdom as I follow the Seven Steps of Submission as designed by my Dominant Owner’s Alpha…(etcetera)” be prepared to cheerfully and politely explain what it means to those lesser enlightened people who lack the benefit of your personal wisdom.
Ditto those who find themselves confronted by new information about what a collar ‒ or any other mark ‒ might mean: be prepared to nod in social politeness and say something like “how interesting,” and not “WTF? Everyone knows the proper color for a Collar of Emotional Dependency is Fuchsia!” You may know that, and I may know that, but everyone knows that’s only on the East Coast, and on alternate Tuesdays. Otherwise, it’s Magenta. Sheesh.
Laura Antoniou is the author of the Marketplace series of erotic novels. A well-known lecturer and presenter, she travels frequently to scold, cajole, amuse and outrage kinky people everywhere. Ask her questions, find her books, travel schedule and other interesting things at www.lantoniou.com.
