Grammy-winning artist Doechii twerks to the beat in her tailor-made Louis Vuitton SS24 RTW suit. A bejeweled Yankees snapback adorns the head of household name rapper A$AP Rocky, silver glinting between his teeth. And, amongst a sea of giddy Black creatives, is the highly acclaimed Law Roach, the “Image Architect,”, wearing his signature buss down middle part. This is the scene at Vogue’s “First Friday in May” celebration (essentially a star-studded Met Gala pregame), hosted at Ginny’s Supper Club, under the busy streets of Harlem. With bravado and aplomb fit for a monarch of modern fashion, Law exclaimed: “They done fucked up and made the Met Ball Black!” The crowd rejoiced, then broke it down on the dance floor under a wash of blue lights and camera flashes. Check any photo or video taken from that night and you’ll be hard-pressed to find even a single face that isn’t beaming with a sense of pride, regality, celebration, triumph. Everyone in the room knew they belonged there.
As an avid pop culture aficionado, I’ve long kept up with what’s often regarded as fashion’s biggest night out. The Met Gala, the annual fundraising event for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute, is one of the rare occasions for which prominent figures from every facet of pop culture—be it film, literature, sports, music, television, theater, art, and even politics—come together for a common goal: supporting the prosperity of the precarious, yet precious art of fashion. It’s always thrilling, watching the zeitgeist’s most influential creatives walk up the Met Gala’s famous stairs, seeing them in conversation with the year’s exhibit as they flaunt well-researched, custom-made haut couture.
Back in October, the Metropolitan Museum of Art announced the theme of the Costume Institute’s spring 2025 exhibition as “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” which draws inspiration from Professor of Africana Studies Monica L. Miller’s book Slaves to Fashion: Black Dandyism and the Styling of Black Diasporic Identity, and like the book, the exhibition examines the innovation of Black fashion over three hundred years —particularly through the lens of Black dandyism. While the original dandies of England had primarily aesthetic concerns, the Black dandy, by contrast, applied their aesthetic to more rebellious philosophies.
Black dandies tracing back to the eighteenth century intentionally curated their appearances as a form of resistance.
As a response to the discrimination Black people faced in America, England, and around the globe, Black dandies tracing back to the eighteenth century intentionally curated their appearances as a form of resistance. They were scholars of fashion, placing utmost importance on their way of dress in order to reclaim agency over how they were perceived. With bow ties, tailored suits, polished shoes, and flashy accessories, the Black dandy’s use of extravagance asserted that Black men were just as deserving of respect as their white counterparts. Through the careful presentation of a more “elevated” appearance and lifestyle, Black dandies challenged limiting perceptions that were rampant post-Emancipation and beyond.
Black dandyism has seen many iterations since its inception. Peaking in the 1920s, when Harlem became a gold mine for Black intellectualism and art, and carrying through into the logomania and peacocking of the 80s and 90s that still influence my own father’s fashion sense, the practice has a long history that is deeply entangled with Black culture. And now—however unexpectedly—it seems that Black dandyism’s approach to refashioning the perception of Black people is more necessary than ever, given our current political moment.
Thanks to the Trump Administration’s dismantling of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives across the nation—and the rhetoric that has accompanied it—it’s clear that an increasingly large number of Americans see people of diverse and racialized backgrounds (but, in particular, Black people) as less qualified and less meritorious. In his second term, Donald Trump has issued numerous executive orders that have not only terminated DEI programs, but also equity-related grants and contracts. The latest termination resulted in the rescinding and cancellation of National Endowment for the Arts grants to nonprofit organizations and arts agencies, implying that diversity is a societal ill. Following these legislative events, Trump’s followers have flocked to social media and entertainment platforms like X, Reddit, and Fox News to echo their shared grievances over DEI initiatives, using “diversity” as an all-purpose scapegoat for any issue of their choosing. Suddenly the Potomac River mid-air collision was because of DEI, as were the devastating Los Angeles wildfires, as was the recent tragedy in New Orleans on New Year’s Day. Suddenly it’s the case that if you aren’t cisgender, straight, white, and male, then you were a “diversity hire,” and are therefore unqualified—ironic, considering the lack of qualifications held by many members of the current presidential cabinet.
Given an administration that appears hellbent on undermining legacies that do not align with white Christian nationalism, the Met Gala’s decision to spotlight the rich and complex history of Black dandyism’s influence on menswear is laudable. Yes—Doechii, A$AP Rocky, Law Roach, and historical Black dandies like James Baldwin and André Leon Talley—all look fantastic. But Black dandyism was never just about appearances. Rather, the method of a Black dandy was to covertly fashion a revolution in the minds of those who witnessed them. By bringing mainstream attention to the sensibilities and high dignity of Black dandyism, the Met Gala and its associated exhibition prove to audiences the value of celebrating Black cultural identity.
Even before the event itself, the 2025 Met Gala was packaged noticeably different as compared to previous years. In addition to Vogue’s Editor-in-Chief Anna Wintour—the lead chairwoman of the Gala since 1995—this Met Gala’s co-chairs were Black men, all of whom have been celebrated for their style, influence, and intentionality: Pharrell Williams, Colman Domingo, A$AP Rocky, and Lewis Hamilton. The host committee, too, featured an all-Black lineup of actors, artists, writers, entertainers, and athletes. Scroll through the Met’s and Vogue’s various social media accounts, and you’ll see grids inundated with the work of Black designers, photographers, archivists, and academics, as well as interviews featuring influential Black public figures responding to prompts related to the theme of this year’s exhibit. To put it bluntly, the Met Costume Institute is communicating a message, emphasizing the importance and relevance of Black intellectuals and creatives.
The Met Costume Institute is communicating a message, emphasizing the importance and relevance of Black intellectuals and creatives.
When the Met announced the 2025 “Superfine” theme, I found myself cautiously suspicious. I assumed that even if the Costume Institute featured Black creatives, the camera would likely show only the tailored suits and pearl-studded necklines of a few famous artists, a pacifying show for liberal optics. Instead, we got a plenitude of deliberate, informed displays flaunting the historical magnitude of Black dandyism, from many of the biggest names in entertainment. Colman Domingo, draped in royal blue, took inspiration from his research with Monica L. Miller, who noted in her work that “a freed slave wanted to wear his finest blue, superfine wool suit.” Lewis Hamilton, working with stylist Eric McNeal, came dressed in custom Wales Bonner, detailed with cowrie shells, baobab flower motifs, and mother-of-pearl buttons inspired by the Harlem Renaissance and Black jazz singer Cab Calloway. The Met Gala’s platforming of Black culture motivated an unprecedented number of its attendees to work with Black designers, wear looks from Black fashion houses, and study up on—and share with the thousands tuning in—their knowledge of Black history. Gigi Hadid arrived on the Gala’s blue carpet excited to share her research on Zelda Wynn Valdes, a Black American designer in the 1940s. Quinta Brunson wore a look that honored the celebrated Black dancer-singer-actress Josephine Baker. And throughout the night, guests like Anne Hathaway and Tyla cited the definitive Black dandy—late stylist and fashion journalist André Leon Talley—as the inspiration behind their look.
Beyond what the guests brought to the event, Vogue and the Met also provided an array of educational videos documenting this landmark celebration of an often-overlooked facet of Black culture, uplifting Black visual artists and referencing seminal and too often forgotten texts of Black literature. Considering the event’s authentic presentation of neglected Black history, especially under an administration that publicly doubts the value of diversity in this country, it’s clear that the Costume Institute is finally recognizing the intrinsically political nature of fashion. Such an explicit homage to Black history and culture is nothing less than a bold act of defiance that embodies the rebellious spirit of the Black dandy. With this year’s themes and exhibition, the Met Costume Institute not only immortalized the work of Black scholars and creatives, but also gave it a global platform, ensuring the exposure of thousands to the merit and depth of Black culture. Like the Black dandy, the event demanded respect, visibility, and redefinition—all while making it cool. Sure, the Met Institute isn’t perfect—an organization that regularly invites the Kardashians could never be—but the 2025 Met Gala demonstrates a step in the right direction.
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