September is the biggest month in and for the fashion industry. It starts with the glossy covers of elite fashion magazines in early August and ends with the polaroids from the ultra-exclusive Paris after-parties on Instagram.
Each fall, we see the industry's top editors, influencers, and models crammed next to each other, holding their breath while the newest trend makes its debut on the catwalk. Beautiful, handcrafted pieces that cascade down the runway flowing off of elegant, beautiful women whom society has deemed worthy enough to walk. Coveted photos of front rows and sidewalks flood online spaces for the no-goers to obsess over and share.
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Year after year though, there's something missing.
I grew up fascinated by the lamented pages of fashion magazines. It was the only reason I would agree to run to the grocery with mom. Often times, she would let me grab one or two magazines from the register aisle when we checked out. In a matter of minutes, those magazines would be sprawled across my floor with tattered edges and fat red circles. I poured over the writing of Hamish Bowles, Grace Coddington, and other esteemed writers. Each story fascinated me more with how much fashion weaved into the lives of politicians, activists, and even every day people, like me. There was a sense of otherworldliness that kept my green eyes glued.
It wasn't until I had a firm understanding of what I looked like, that I stopped loving fashion.
Sure, I knew how to catwalk in heels and make my legs look long, even in flats. I still coveted the exquisite editorials, draped in a mirage of literary themes starring my favorite people. I still loved all of it. But, it was clear that fashion didn't love me. It never really had. If they did, wouldn't I see more artists and models that look like me?
Where are the women in my church, whose perfectly fitted hats complimented every aspect of their Sunday dress each and every week? Where was my mom, with her dresser lined with expensive perfumes and her closet stacked with her coveted shoes? Where was I, with my curly hair and oversized pants?
Nowhere, that's where.
Not on the catwalks, not on TV, and definitely not in my favorite magazines.
It's an interesting feeling when you love something that can't love you back.
It's dehumanizing and sad. It fills your heart with loneliness and doubt. Unrequited love isn't all the poets make it out to be. It creates a pit in your soul and starts an unhealthy cycle of resentment and love that only ends in hatred towards yourself, more than anything else. What was once my solace and comfort vanished in a matter of months.
Fashion turned even more narrow by only highlighting teeny boppers and the new-in celebs while sacrificing the style icons and tastemakers portrayed in former years.
The biggest topics of #NYFW: two black women. The most talked about designers debuting: black designers. The most talked about September covers: two black women. The stunners who shut down Paris fashion week: black women. Yet, when I look at all the glamorous models on the runway or the IT girls who occupy the front rows, I see little to no black women. Almost none, to be exact.
It continuously baffles me that black women, and other ethnicities for that matter, are constantly left out of the public side of an industry where we influence so much.
It's not enough to have black women on the covers, we need them in the boardroom. It's not enough to have black models, we need black photographers, editors, and creative directors. It's not enough to have black Editor-At-Large but an actual Editor-In-Chief.
It's not enough.
We need more. We need better.
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Featured photo by Courtney Simpson
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To help you better understand why this was such a mental awakening for me, I first need to give a bit of my backstory. I’m in my late thirties. I’m an attorneyand a journalist. I own a home and have traveled the world extensively. Essentially, I’ve done everything in life I set out to do. However, when it comes to dating, I struggle. Not because there is anything wrong with me per se, but because my career and “lifestyle” often create problems in my romantic relationships.
View from my hotel room
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I’ve been told everything from, ‘I can’t continue to date you because you seem to choose your career over wanting to settle down and have kids’ by a man after only the second date to ‘Maybe if you just sat down somewhere for a while, I’d actually wife you’ by someone who has honestly never proven themselves to be the settle down type. And these are only a handful of the things I’ve been told over the years.
It’s been frustrating, to say the least, and there have even been seasons where I purposely dimmed my light in hopes that my career wouldn’t push away potential suitors. I know what you’re thinking, “Girl, why would you even consider that? If they’re for you, it won’t matter what you do.” Hey, don’t judge me, but also, I one hundred percent agree.
My hotel bathroom
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That’s why this recent moment in Switzerland was right on time. When I first walked into the hotel to check in, I was blown away by the surrounding beauty. It was a five-star property with one of the world’s most famous thermal bathhouses. Yet, it was something about seeing that 90% of the hotel’s guests were couples, that forced me to sit back for a bit of introspection—while soaking in the thermal spa, of course.
As I went through the mental conversation, there was a battle of sorts. On one hand, I knew that being able to partake in experiences like the one I was having at that moment was important to me. I knew that, at times I actually love being able to dabble in the finer things—after all, I’ve worked hard to be able to afford them. On the other hand, and sadly, I knew that sometimes being a single Black woman that publicly showcases her “luxurious” habits can intimidate men and even scare them off from pursuing you under the guise of them feeling like they “can’t do anything for you, because you have everything.”
My hotel room
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So, what is a girl to do?
Do I minimize/hide the life and experiences that I have? Do I play down the hard work I’ve put in to get where I am professionally? Or, do I risk being single in exchange for being able to have said life, without backlash?
Luckily, the joy that I felt while being at this property won. There was something about taking a full day to simply pamper myself at the bathhouse and in my in-room steam shower and soaker tub, indulging in cuisine from a 2-star Michelin restaurant and doing all of this while surrounded by an amazing group of Black women that reminded me—this is certainly the life I was meant to live and that I deserve. Even if it means that right now, I’ll just have to provide it for myself until the right partner comes along. And honestly, I’m okay with that.
Restaurant at 7132 hotel
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