My Summer Fashion Experience: The Difference a Year Can Make

Graphic by Quynh-Nhi Tran

When I first joined STITCH’s editorial team approximately a year ago, I had absolutely zero experience writing about fashion. As far as fashion went for me, it was solely a passion, nothing I ever thought would become a potential career. I don’t sketch, I don’t design, I don’t sew. I thought I was a completely incompetent person for any sort of fashion position. My worldview, I would soon realize, as a vulnerable, 18-year-old was limited. 

Every Sunday night I would make my 15 minute, brutally brisk treck from the northernmost part of campus — 560 Lincoln — to the southernmost part — McCormick Foundation Center (MFC), anxiously reciting my two pitches for my STITCH editorial meeting. However nervous I was to pitch my (sometimes) hot takes on the stagnant, semi-progressive fashion industry, my love for the industry was intensified. Surrounded by ultra-creative people, discussing such contrasting viewpoints, I really solidified my voice, my beat, and I wanted more exposure. I wanted to explore more of the industry I was inevitably falling in love with. 

Image via Sierra Turner

Being a black woman in the fashion industry, naturally there aren’t a lot of us. My first introduction to fashion was through my father, whose mother — my grandmother — was a professional seamstress, heavily influencing my father’s suave, sophisticated style. My grandmother owned her own shop in South Central, Los Angeles, where my father and his brother worked every Saturday. My father has some of his fondest memories in that shop, seeing his mother creating professional and glamorous looks for the colorful people of South Los Angeles.

I wanted to know more about the presence of black women in the fashion industry, essentially those who paved the way for me. I felt that I couldn’t progress in this industry without knowing the roots and the impact of black women on an industry that (many times) neglects us and doesn’t recognize our talent, our craftsmanship. 

With that, I considered the avenue of research and obtaining a grant from the Northwestern Undergraduate Research Department. With four weeks until the grant proposal deadline, I met with a research adviser, emailed professors and grad students  I didn’t remotely know, and attended lectures in downtown Chicago until I pinned down the topic I wanted to research: The Unknown Impact of Black Women Designers and Tailoresses on the Fashion Industry. Before I knew it, I received an email notification: my research proposal was approved.

Eight total weeks of research. I had complete creative license over the whole entire project. I could be a journalist, a creative director, a manager. 

Image via Sierra Turner

I wanted to profile three black women from ranging stylistic expressions. I profiled recent Parsons graduate Ariane Duhaney (based in New York), who specializes in luxury handbags and streetwear clothing. Her brand, Ari500, focuses on sustainability — all of her products have a life cycle and are biodegradable. I then profiled Cheryl Lofton, highly acclaimed “tailoress” (a term she has dubbed) based in Washington, D.C. She has been the owner of Cheryl Lofton & Associates (re-named since its origin in 1939) since she was a senior at Howard University, directly after her grandfather — the store’s founder — died. I discovered during our interview that Lofton was Michelle Obama’s tailoress for two years during President Obama’s first term. Lastly, I profiled esteemed milliner Evetta Petty, whose shop Harlem’s Heaven Hats is an Upper Manhattan landmark. Her dramatic, avante garde hats give each outfit character. And her stunning work has been featured in Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Essence, Elle, and Glamour. 

I wanted to approach the problem of such black designers and tailoresses being uncredited for their work, rarely the face of it. I essentially wanted to take my profiles a step further by taking portraits of these beautiful, black women that are often nameless and unrecognized. So, I asked my two dear friends who are up-and-coming photographers to photograph the experience, ultimately bringing life to the piece. 

Image via Sierra Turner

I wanted to give my project my all. I read literature on fashion criticism and the black stylistic experience. (Such books included, and I definitely recommend reading, Monica L. Miller’s Slaves to Fashion: Black Dandyism and the Styling of Black Diasporic Identity; Shane White and Graham J. White’s  Stylin': African American Expressive Culture from Its Beginnings to the Zoot Suit; Constance C.R. White’s StyleNoir: The First How-to Guide to Fashion Written with Black Women in Mind). 

Almost everyday, I travelled almost 50 minutes — via the subway — to Harlem to do archival research at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. There, I was able to engage with 20th century black-owned publications (particularly, magazines) who would discuss up-and-coming black designers 

(interestingly enough, mostly men). Having access to such valuable and unique archives further legitimized my research and overall knowledge in the subject. 

Such preparation and research allowed me to be the best interviewer I could be. Throughout my research, I noticed myself being a more curious and passionate reporter.

Image via Sierra Turner

On the second day of my research, I bawled on the corner of West 26th Street and 5th Avenue because I got on the wrong side of the subway (dramatic, I know). Initially, I thought being alone in the biggest city in the world was overwhelming and detrimental to my confidence that I felt for the project, and honestly, my mental health. 

I was scared. I was vulnerable. 

But there’s absolutely nothing wrong with feeling isolated. It felt liberating to solely do the things I’m passionate about in what is, honestly, the best city ever to do it. Just living in New York City for four weeks, being surrounded and inspired by the epitome of creativity, innovation, and trendsetting, was something so valuable and pertinent for my growth as someone breaking into the industry.  (I even kept a list of some inspiring, amazing and unconventional outfits I would see everyday just walking the streets of Lower Manhattan). 

And the best part about it was that Northwestern was able to provide such a life-altering opportunity for me. And it can happen to you, too.