By Hadassa Serrano Noire Fashion Columnist, Africa
I spent days and nights contemplating a subject I have heard people discuss, whether or not they are personally concerned with it. This time, my goal was not to find answers, but rather to reflect and gain a deeper understanding of African fashion.
Growing up in Central Africa, I was surrounded by both Africans and the diaspora community. I remember when my aunties and my mother’s friends flew from Paris or London to visit us in Congo; they would bring us clothes, shoes, and a lot of bags, including accessories, with European designs. I would never forget i was told one time by my mother’s friend who brought me a dress from London as she said “your dresses are okay but these from Paris are more beautiful then them and more youthful”, well I am not going to lie, the dresses she bought were very beautiful but i wonder why she felt the need to downgrade my Liputa (wax fabric appellation in Lingala) dresses in able to make me wear the european one?
Some people will say she was simply mean, but I'm moving on. I tell you about this one time I showed up at an event here in America and decided to wear my boubou dress with chunky gold bangles. The whole crew tried nicely to tell me that African attire was not welcome at certain events because it is too cultural for certain types of events. But this isn’t my last example, as I recall an interaction with a friend this summer when we went to an outdoor event, and she wore a gele as a headscarf while dressed up in full streetwear. In this situation, no one showed restraint or made any downgrading comments; instead, people stopped us on the road and asked her if she was from Nigeria and what inspired the hat (since many barely knew it was called a gele).
I remember one very sweet lady asking my friend
“Is there a story or meaning behind the way this hat is worn?
My friend replied, "Yes, it originated in West Africa and is deeply rooted in Yoruba culture. It symbolizes a woman’s elegance, status, pride, and heritage."
Then I stopped and wondered why a single garment, a fabric, or even an accessory can raise concerns and judgment for being too excessive, too loud culturally, and not as beautiful compared to others?
I sat with myself, recalled all the experiences I encountered around this matter, and decided to share this as a reflective essay.
Before sharing my thoughts, I want to clarify that this is my personal reflection on African fashion,an interpretation of what it means to me and what I believe it represents.
I invite you, dear readers, to join the conversation. Let this essay serve as a doorway to stimulate your thoughts on this topic and help you develop your own opinions and perspectives.
What Is African Fashion?
For many individuals, African fashion is often associated with distinctive elements such as vibrant fabrics, intricate designs, and unique silhouettes. While this viewpoint captures certain aspects of the style, I believe that the essence of African fashion actually begins with a deep connection to culture, heritage, customs, rituals, and the rich stories passed down through generations.
I often hear people describe African fashion and style as featuring large accessories that make noises and fabrics with visually intense patterns. However, these interpretations overlook the profound significance behind each choice, which reflects the diverse histories and identities of various African communities. Each piece of clothing is often infused with cultural narratives, traditions, and artistry that go far beyond mere aesthetics.
Throughout the decades, garments have carried more significance than merely being worn. In African cultures, clothing conveyed social status and communicated identity, reflecting one's ancestry, descendants, tribes, and community affiliations. Fashion played a vital role in rituals, family customs, and celebrations, serving as a medium for expressing emotions, messages, and prayers.
Clothing has played a central role in Africa as a means of communication, alongside music and storytelling. These elements are among the most effective ways African culture, traditions, heritage, and narratives have been passed down through generations.
Given the vast array of cultures, histories, and tribes across the African continent, its voice has never been uniform in one silhouette, fabric, or style. However, today, African fashion is characterized by a singular aesthetic and language: bold, eccentric wax fabrics rich in culture.
Which leads me to my first question;
What are we really saying when we describe a garment, an aesthetic, or a designer as African?
As I mentioned earlier, I believe that African fashion is not just about fabrics and silhouettes; it encompasses the rich heritage, culture, stories, and customs of an entire continent, all wrapped into clothing. A garment doesn’t become African simply because it uses kente fabric or because a contemporary hat is styled as a gele. Instead, it becomes African when it reflects the history of those who came before us, the customs we were taught to challenge, and the culture we were led to feel ashamed of. It is about the heritage of artisanship, creativity, and innovation passed down through generations, as well as the rituals we were encouraged to forget.
African fashion begins in a dialogue with the past, aiming to design for the future while reconciling with the heritage bequeathed to us by our ancestors. It celebrates the beauty found in how fabrics tell stories through their symbols, designs, and silhouettes that evoke a tribe, a ceremony, a celebration, or even an era.
Our aesthetic is not about moods or collective desires designed by algorithms; it is the visuals of our endurance, our stories, and the beauty of a continent shaped by diverse culture and heritage.
Our designers aren’t just sons and daughters of Africa; they are the ones continuing to write and reshape the narrative of what African fashion is and should be seen as. They are not only designing beautiful garments; they are crafting our stories, heritage, and culture in a way that puts us back in the pen of the stories others have written. I love to call them the mediators of Africa through fashion, as their designs start conversations, build curiosity, reshape the visual narrative, and put our craftsmanship and creativity front and center.
The African continent consists of 55 member states, as stated by the African Union, representing all the countries on the continent. It would be unreasonable to limit such a diverse continent to just one aesthetic. The precision of the London fashion scene and the elegance of Parisian style demonstrate this point. However, both cities are located on the same European continent; they showcase distinct visual diversity, design languages, and styles.
A girl from Lagos has her own unique style that reflects the vibrant culture and influences of her surroundings, which will likely differ significantly from that of a girl from Ghana. Even when both girls choose garments made from similar fabrics, their choices in design, colors, and accessories are shaped by their distinct cultural backgrounds and personal preferences. This diversity is what makes African fashion so rich and interesting. We should celebrate and appreciate this variety instead of trying to categorize African fashion into a single, uniform style. Each region brings its own aesthetics.
Cities such as Lagos, Dakar, Kinshasa, Cape Town, Accra, Abidjan, and Bamako are vibrant hubs of creativity and innovation in the fashion industry. For instance, Lagos is known for its bold colors and contemporary styles that blend traditional African aesthetics with modern trends. At the same time, Dakar often highlights the elegance of tailored pieces infused with intricate beadwork, while Kinshasa brings forth its unique street style, reflecting the energy and dynamism of its urban environment. In contrast, Cape Town’s fashion scene often merges global influences with indigenous designs, embodying a diverse cultural tapestry.
This leads me to conclude that African fashion should not be viewed through the narrow lens of a single fabric, silhouette, or design. Instead, it should be appreciated as a mosaic of influences and styles that reflect the myriad countries, cities, cultures, and customs that make up the continent. This diverse perspective fosters a deeper appreciation for African fashion, highlighting its richness and the narratives behind each piece.
Now it is time for my second question;
Who defines African Fashion?
One important lesson I've learned is to unlearn the habit of understanding the African continent solely through Western archives and media. This isn't out of disdain, but rather from the realization that no one can tell your story better than you can. In school, I was taught that Diego Cão was the first European to discover the mouth and estuary of the Congo River in 1482. However, as my friend Jordan often points out, what about the people who were already living near the river? What about the locals who inhabited the area long before Diego Cão arrived? This example highlights just one of many reasons why I chose to stop trying to learn about my continent through the lens of another continent.
I noticed that the people who often define African fashion are primarily outsiders. More concerning is when these outside voices try to shape what African fashion should look like based solely on their perceptions. Can we really categorize an entire continent, with its many countries and diverse heritages, as just one thing? The answer is no, yet the truth is more complex.
In this situation, I believe that Africans must not only reshape the narrative but also showcase the continent's creativity. This creativity can be expressed through various avenues, including fashion, music, cultural activities, and art. If we do not learn how to present our creativity, craftsmanship, and designs to the world, those who have long dominated this space will continue to do so, while we remain mere spectators in our own narrative.
As a fashion writer, I believe reclaiming our narrative within the fashion industry involves more than designing clothing for ourselves; instead, it begins with thorough, intentional documentation. This documentation, whether it takes the form of written articles, spoken narratives, or visual representations, serves a vital purpose: to not only preserve the rich history of fashion but also to illuminate and connect us to our heritage, personal stories, cultural patrimony, and the dynamic, real-time accounts of African fashion.
To effectively achieve this vision, we need a collaborative effort that brings together a diverse group of professionals. Writers must capture the essence of our experiences and insights, while archivists play a key role in curating and safeguarding historical materials. Narrators can bring our stories to life, and journalists will help to highlight contemporary trends and perspectives within the industry. Researchers are also crucial, as they delve into the depths of our cultural history, ensuring that our narratives are both accurate and engaging.
Together, these efforts will help us build a comprehensive and authentic record of African fashion that honors our past while inspiring future generations.
Before I close this beautiful and reflective article, I would like to ask three questions that I am hoping that each one of us would be able to answer, not for the sake of answering but for ourselves as an invitation to see beyond what we were told, shown, and exposed to believe about African fashion.
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What do we mean when we think about African fashion?
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Who do we think defines African fashion?
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When we call something African, what exactly are we seeing, and what are we leaving unseen?
Let’s take a moment to reflect on these questions as Pan-African and African creatives, as well as a media platform.
I hope that after reading this article, each of us will engage in genuine reflection about how we receive information, how it resonates with us, and how familiarity influences our perspectives.
All images are sourced from Pinterest.