
I just read Geoff Manaugh’s extensive interview with designer Nicholas de Monchaux on BLDGBLOG, having found it on a 2011 round-up of science articles. Posted last April on the occasion of de Monchaux’s recent (and dramatically titled) book Spacesuit: Fashioning Apollo, the conversation links subjects as disparate as conceptual architecture and women’s underwear. De Monchaux provides the refreshing description of the iconic Apollo suit as a “21-layered messy assemblage made by a bra company”, which as it turns out, it was. Playtex’s “soft and pliable” spacesuit trumped the competing hard-shell designs in the 1960′s, giving the history books a figure with looks to match its heady philosophical implications. As the Apollo spacecraft brought humans into space, the suits carved out a piece of it for the individuals who took the first steps. I am excited to rethink the spacesuit with an eye towards fashion, but the suit’s design was in the end managed by practicality. De Monchaux recalls that their was another argument at the time for biologically engineering humans for space travel, or altering the alien territories for life-support. These ideas were found impractical – though they still rattle around the contemporary conversation on space travel – and were ultimately replaced with the complex process of outfitting men and women for survival in the most inhospitable of places. De Monchaux better renders the debate on cyborgs and air-bags:
For instance, the word cyborg originated in the Apollo program, in a proposal by a psycho-pharmacologist and a cybernetic mathematician who conceived of this notion that the body itself could be, in their words, reengineered for space. They regarded the prospect of taking an earthly atmosphere with you into space, inside a capsule or a spacesuit, as very cumbersome and not befitting what they called the evolutionary progress of our triumphal entry into the inhospitable realm of outer space. The idea of the cyborg, then, is the apotheosis of certain utopian and dystopian ideas about the body and its transformation by technology, and it has its origins very much in the Apollo program.
It seems then, that in dragging a bit of the Earth’s environment with them, the early astronauts were also preserving a bit of humanity as well. Turning away from the technological aspirations of cyborgism, places what was likely an unintentional emphasis on the faulted human condition. Should we compromise ourselves to arrive at a destination? This firey question of biology is well represented in the 1960′s space programs. The suits, like their inhabitants were complex, pliable and fragile. Made of cloth and bearing a “hand-crafted nature”, the suits became symbols of space travel for generations, determining how writers and filmmakers would imagine the world (de Monchaux). If the spacesuit took a concrete reality in those years, how was it imagined before then? A flurry of designs existed during the 60′s, but the idea of a spacesuit existed before the money and technology was there to build them. Georges Méliès depicted air-breathing travelers to the moon in his 1902 film A Trip to the Moon, but prior to that famous eye-poking Garrett P. Serviss described a spacesuit in his 1898 Edison’s Conquest of Mars:

…since it was probable that necessity would arise for occasionally quitting the interior of the electrical ships, Mr. Edison had provided for this emergency by inventing an air-tight dress constructed somewhat after the manner of a diver’s suit, but of much lighter material. Each ship was provided with several of these suits, by wearing which one could venture outside the car [spaceship] even when it was beyond the atmosphere of the earth…Provision had been made to meet the terrific cold which we knew would be encountered the moment we had passed beyond the atmosphere—that awful absolute zero which men had measured by anticipation, but never yet experienced—by a simple system of producing within the air-tight suits a temperature sufficiently elevated to counteract the effects of the frigidity without. By means of long, flexible tubes, air could be continually supplied to the wearers of the suits, and by an ingenious contrivance a store of compressed air sufficient to last for several hours was provided for each suit, so that in case of necessity the wearer could throw off the tubes connecting him with the air tanks in the car…Inside the headpiece of each of the electrical suits was the mouthpiece of a telephone. This was connected with a wire which, when not in use, could be conveniently coiled upon the arm of the wearer. Near the ears, similarly connected with wires, were telephonic receivers…When two persons wearing the air-tight dresses wished to converse with one another it was only necessary for them to connect themselves by the wires, and conversation could then be easily carried on.
Between 1934 and 1935 American aviator Wiley Post built himself a pressurized suit for high-altitude flying. Underwater diving suits were being developed around the same time.


As the Space Age approached Heinlein’s Have Sapce Suit – Will Travel helped spell out the technology that would come in the following decade. After the actualization of the Spacesuit by NASA and Soviet programs, the practical issues of space travel and the visual symbol of the suit itself became household ideas that have appeared in countless films, books, etc…