With its alliance with the U.S. under strain, could Canada become part of the EU? 

Article 49 of the Treaty on European Union does not explicitly define what it means to be “European.” Instead, the determination of whether a country qualifies as European is left to political discretion. 

Historically, only one non-European nation has attempted to join the EU. In 1987, Morocco’s application was rejected on the grounds that it did not meet the criteria of being a “European country.”

Canadians tend to favour gun control, oppose the death penalty, and support a robust welfare state with regulations on the free market — aligning closely with European values. Moreover, Canada’s political and legal institutions are based in European models, and over half of its population traces its ancestry to Europe.

Canada could provide the EU with access to abundant strategic resources, including rare earth minerals and fossil fuels, which are scarce in Europe. In return, Canada could gain access to Europe’s vast and skilled labour market while reducing its reliance on the U.S. and its unpredictable political climate.

So is it going to take place? Very unlikely. 

The EU already has a lengthy queue of candidates—10 in total—including countries like Albania, which has been waiting for decades.

As Europe expands with more members, reaching consensus on who should be admitted becomes increasingly difficult. Decisions on this, as well as on sensitive issues like security and immigration, are made through unanimous agreement.

However, the EU could explore the possibility of forming entirely new alliances. 

But there is also the risk that any effort to strengthen ties with Europe could trigger increased aggression from the United States.

For generations, clothing has served as protection for individuals who sense estrangement from societal norms, whether due to their beliefs, gender, socioeconomic status, ethnicity, or sexual orientation.

Starting with the red ‘Liberty’ cap donned by the sans-culottes during the French Revolution, to the frayed denim and statement tees of the hippie movement, and culminating in the pink pussy hat of the Women’s March, attire has functioned as a means of resistance for marginalized communities, enabling them to assert their presence and voice in the face of authority.

These aesthetics typically emerge from grassroots movements, but in today’s politically turbulent era, they are gradually being showcased on fashion runways, inevitably sparking allegations of commercialisation.

The white frequently manifested as a feminized rendition of the quintessential symbol of male formality, the suit. This attire represented a sartorial plea for equality, balanced by the purity of its hue, underscoring the notion that women remained exemplary members of society.

Certain bold advocates for equality went as far as wearing trousers, an act prohibited in numerous regions across the US and Europe. The deep-rooted connection between trousers and male dominance was so entrenched that it wasn’t until the 1960s that women wearing them gained widespread societal approval.

In the Soviet Union, fashion trends often lagged behind those of the West by a few years. The state staunchly opposed what it perceived as capitalist influence on its popular culture and daily life. Given the limited production of consumer goods in the state, this scarcity was evident in local fashion. It’s widely acknowledged that the authoritative regime in Soviet Union was oppressive and tyrannical, subjecting its citizens to Gulag camps, mass executions, and pervasive surveillance. However, even in such an oppressive environment, one fundamental human trait endured: the innate desire to be attractive.

Accessing Western fashion proved challenging for a significant duration of the Soviet Union’s existence. Foreigners could yield substantial profits by selling Western clothing like jeans to various businesses, including second-hand shops and specialized clothing boutiques. It was a matter of supply and demand, as dictated by Western markets.

This desire is one to stand out, acknowledged as an individual, either through a distinct personal style or by aligning with broader fashion trends. It’s intriguing how something seemingly trivial in the West was perceived as a significant act of rebellion within the bloc. While the West embraced mullets, acid-washed jeans, vibrant patterns, and a variety of colours and dyes, Soviet fashion was characterized by short hair, muted fabrics, and a cultural lag. As Soviet influence waned, particularly in the 1980s, Western popular culture leaked more than ever, leaving its mark on fashion catalogues and sparking a newfound entrepreneurial spirit among clothing companies. These companies targeted rebellious teenagers, a demographic with considerable purchasing power at the time.

As the union deviated from Communism, it did so with the aim of preserving the regime, consolidating power, and retaining control in an effort to navigate through the Cold War. In the modern era, China has embarked on similar trajectory. Controlled capitalism has proven advantageous for these Communist regimes and continues to be so. Enterprising individuals from the West and bloc countries alike recognised this significant opportunity and seized upon it, resulting in the creation of catalogues.

Throughout history, long hair has symbolised various concepts such as freedom, opulence, and royalty. During the English Civil War, the Cavaliers, or royalists, wore long hair as a sign of opposition to the Roundheads, signalling their support for absolute monarchy through their hairstyle. However, in the Soviet Union, long hair did not mean loyalty but rather disloyalty to the state. Possessing long hair was strictly prohibited without any clear justification, yet such beliefs persisted. Rock stars, with their long hair, embodied everything that the Soviet regime opposed: extravagance, fame, and perceived immorality.

During the 1950s, Soviet citizens started emulating Western styles to the best of their capabilities using available resources at home. Young people who managed to acquire American-inspired clothing embraced this trend enthusiastically. They paraded through the streets dressed in suits, tailored pants and shirts, flashy ties, and even American flag socks. This wasn’t an explicit protest against the oppressive Soviet regime but rather a form of escapism—a rebellion against the monotony of everyday life in an autocratic society.

The enduring popularity of this trend can be understood through the lens of Adidas. As a German company, it would seem inherently foreign to Russians. However, the fascination with foreign fashion is a universal phenomenon, albeit rarely to the extent seen with Adidas — a company so deeply ingrained in Russian culture that it has become emblematic of it. The company’s popularity also can be seen in “Slovo Patsana”, director Zhora Kryzhovnikov’s brutal crime drama which has captivated audiences across Russia and post-Soviet sphere.

The legacy of using clothing as a form of rebellion originated in a stifling and oppressive environment and continues to persist to this day, becoming an integral part of Russian heritage. Even as hawkish Russian politicians blame the West for sabotaging the country’s economy, most ordinary Russians still embrace aesthetics that so sought after — Western fashion.