Black Dandyism, Ancestral Glamour + Style Codes

a Met Gala Stylevision™ exploring decades of cultural legacy + black sartorial power

Ancestral Notes on Black Dandyism

When reflecting on Black dandyism in my life, I’m drawn to faint memories my uncle Red (my great grandmother Mae’s baby brother). He would come to Sunday dinner in tailored pants + jewel tones— almost never without of a pint of Henny in hand, asking 7 year old me to pour him a glass of milk to wash it down. As much of a potty mouth he was, he always kept his legs crossed + his hair cut. It was subtle clues like mannerisms that played a role into the character he was. Like the cadence which he’d speak in, dramatically using his hands. Nails grown a few inches too long.

Then, there’s my great grandfather “Bossman” who quite literally never went anywhere without his feather banded fedora + a wad of money in his pocket. My great grandma would dig into his stash + hand me $100,$50,$20 under the table while he wasn’t looking. They called him Bossman, because he handled his business, okay? Mae never had to work a day in her life.

My great grand parents in Europe in the 70’s

My grandpa, Johnny, is a Dandy down. He’s very sharp + knows it, never leaving his house without his aviators. The far right photo is what he wore to see me in the hospital for the first time. That leather cap?! Yeahhhh.

My dad was a proud sneakerhead who would could never be caught with a dirty pair of kicks. In his Bronx apartment, he taught me how to clean my sneakers, lace them up + hang them on the fire escape to dry. I’ll never forget the day he copped me my first pair of huaraches, likely on 125th street at Jimmy Jazz. You have to remember, my parents are 70’s babies through + through. Their expression of Dandyism is intertwined with hip-hop + what we distinguish now as “the culture”. I’m talking partying with Biggie at The Tunnel, Air Max ‘95’s, showing me Dapper Dan custom pieces, carrying a walkman as a fashion statement. And although he loved streetwear, he also loved to dress down with a lil prep in his step, too. He actually worked at J.Crew HQ for nearly a decade and loved his Ralph Lauren. He wasn’t a snob, though. We’d go into the Nike outlet + find a pair for kicks for $40 that I’d be side-eyeing. He’d say “I’d freak this— you’re crazy”.

How dare I challenge his taste?!

It was always about the attitude, the styling (of course) + the person who wears the clothes— never let the clothes wear you. That’s a gem that I’ve always took with me— not judging my pieces by first looks, but considering what I can do to make the piece special. And in a nutshell, isn’t that what Black dandyism is about? Pride.

My parents in matching polka-dot shirts in the early 90s. + my dad’s love of neutrals

My dad’s expression of dandyism was always cool. He loved neutrals with pops of color, his fits always started with a good shoe, a sneaker the majority of the time.

Denim on denim.

The last time I saw my dad get dressed up in a suit was my college graduation. I never forget gagging over this silver iridescent moment that he paired with a printed button down. Cooler than cool.

It wouldn’t feel right talking about dandyism without sharing a bit about my dad. If you’ve lost a parent, you probably can relate that you’ll always be looking for reasons to hold on to those memories + connection. He would’ve been absolutely obsessed with this years Met Gala theme.

So let’s talk yap it. Ain’t that what you came for?!