The Bold Prints and the Thorny Issues: Navigating the Visibility of African Fashion
By Fiona Adjei Boateng
For decades, Africa has been lurking in the shadows of the global fashion industry – but that is finally changing! The recent outpouring of support and patronage of African fashion outside of Africa has been profound. From the colorful prints of West Africa to the intricate beadwork of South Africa, African fashion has become a real force in the global fashion scene. As the style, the designers and the influencers make their marks on runways and on our social media feeds, the average fashion enthusiast also boasts of owning at least one African-inspired item. It is clear that African fashion and style is spilling all over.
Africa is known for its ethnic and cultural diversity. With over 50 countries and more than 3,000 ethnic groups, you can bank on counting as many unique twists on language, food, music, etc. The same can be said about the diversity of African fashion. From the regal flow of the Kente and the bold, geometric patterns of Ankara to the flowing Kaftans of North Africa, there is no shortage of inspiration and style for designers and fashion enthusiasts alike. For our textiles alone, we have seen them used for everyday items like face masks and graduation stoles and for statement outfits worn by regular people and celebrities alike. Is this a good thing? Maybe so.
This means greater visibility on the global stage, not only for African fashion, but for African fashion designers, models, and experts. From the rise in popularity of designers like Nigerian-born Duro Olowu, South African MaXhosa, Congolese Hanifa, and Ghanaian Christie Brown to the rise in representation of African supermodels like Adut Akech, Khoudia Diop and Duckie Thot, African style and fashion is making its presence felt in fashion capitals around the world – people are finally paying attention to what the continent has to offer on fashion. Off the runway, African fashion is becoming a part of people’s everyday closet, including non-Africans. We’re becoming a part of the conversation and that sounds good! But again, is this a good thing? Maybe not.
Along with this visibility comes the hurdles. Although African fashion is gaining greater recognition and influence, most of it remains deeply rooted in tradition, history and culture. For instance, as a Ghanaian in the fashion scene, I know firsthand the names and meanings we place on our textiles – the thought that goes into choosing what piece to wear for a wedding as opposed to for work or for a funeral. Yes, they are all vibrant and beautifully colored with bold patterns, but they are often so much more than that. And I’m certain this applies with many other African textiles and pieces. Of course, many designers are dedicated to preserving and promoting traditional African styles and fashion the right way, while also pushing the boundaries of what is possible in fashion, which is great! But what about those at the other end, who would look at hand woven Kente as just another silk and cotton textile waiting to be sewn into a romper, ignoring the centuries of history behind it, or why Ghanaians reserve it for important celebrations? Or those who perpetuate economic inequality by profiting off the same African styles and designs that African designers create but struggle to make a living from – without any recognition or compensation to the continent or to its people?! In other words, just how mainstream do we want African style and fashion to get? And when can we call it appropriation and not appreciation? I personally don’t have answers to these questions – all I know is that they’re worth asking. We’re currently towing that line.
Maybe, thanks to migration and globalization, Africans no longer tie their identities as strongly to what they wear and how they wear it (I doubt this). Maybe, Africans enjoy seeing their culture on the big runways and on non-African students on their way to class. Maybe, it really is about imitation as a form of appreciation – imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery. It’s great that we finally have a seat at the table, and that African designs are currently more in demand than they’ve ever been, but at what cost? And if this is a cost that Africans, the owners of the culture behind it, aren’t willing to bear, then do we get a say? Can we have the best of both worlds, where African fashion gains the recognition it deserves, but still retains its history and authenticity – is that even possible? Again, I don’t have the answers, I’m just here to pose the questions!
