Dressmaking in the time of Fast Fashion
No. 10, A retrospective on three critical past projects and why I choose to make bespoke clothing.
I came to fully understand and identify with the term dressmaker somewhat late in life, though I had been working as one for years. In fact, the art of dressmaking has always been woven into the tapestry of my Liberian heritage. When there is an impending wedding or ceremonious gathering, West Africans of a certain age seldom traverse the aisles of a Neiman Marcus or Saks in search of the perfect gown. Rather, they call a dressmaker from within the community, a conjurer of needle and thread to create a bespoke garment from vibrant Ankara wax prints or African lace. You are measured meticulously and agree on a price and date (you always lie about the latter because they tend to have difficulty with time management). Weeks later, you return, and if all goes well you are left with a piece that drapes the contours of your body to perfection.
“Somewhere in the tumultuous sea of fast fashion, micro-trends/aesthetics, and the convenience of online shopping we’ve lost the very simple but direct connection to who makes the garments we place upon our bodies, how it is made, and what it is made with. I’m interested in reestablishing that connection.”
So yes, the intricacies of dressmaking are quite familiar to me, but the history of those who paved the way remained relatively unknown. That is until my early thirties when I began to research. I learned of many, but it was the legacies of Zelda Wynn Valdes and Ann Lowe that resonated deeply. Zelda, the sartorial muse to the Black stars of Hollywood's golden era, who birthed the iconic Playboy Bunny suit. Ann, the queen of haute couture, who sketched and stitched the dreams of New York's elite, including the wedding gown of Jacqueline Kennedy, a masterpiece for which she would remain uncredited for decades. Two Black women dressmakers, whose significant contributions left an indelible mark on the fashion landscape, yet who also found themselves omitted from the dialogue surrounding American dressmakers.
In today's world, the art of dressmaking holds particular significance, especially as a service offered to Black people, as custom-made garments serve as a means of reclaiming agency over representation and challenging whitewashed fashion standards.
To pay homage to these titans of the needle, I embrace the mantle of "dressmaker" as my own. You’ll see it listed in my Instagram bio and the occasional interview. For me, it serves as a reminder of the intimacy, trust, and integrity the title holds. Somewhere in the tumultuous sea of fast fashion, micro-trends/aesthetics, and the convenience of online shopping we’ve lost the very simple but direct connection to who makes the garments we place upon our bodies, how it is made, and what it is made with. I’m interested in reestablishing that connection.
This is why alongside my repertoire of ready-to-wear ensembles and capsule collections, I offer my services as a dressmaker and designer. Over the years, I have been blessed with the opportunity to collaborate with an array of brilliant, imaginative and beautiful people. To name a favorite among them would be as futile as choosing a favorite kid (mind you, I have no kids so maybe it is actually easy, lol). I can say that with each bespoke creation, I find myself more knowledgable and skilled, honing my craft with every challenge placed on my cutting table. In this newsletter I’d like to look back on three dresses I’ve made, one for the stage, one for the red carpet, and one for a wedding, because they’ve refined and sharpened my design aesthetic.
I. A Muse at Essence Fest | July, 2018
Two weeks prior to the 2018 Essence Festival, I received a call from my singer friend Mykia Jovan, inquiring whether I could possibly craft a dress for her upcoming intimate performance in one of the Superlounges, designated for breakthrough and indie artists. In addition, Mykia, already well into her second trimester, was not yet prepared to reveal her pregnancy publicly. Thus, the dress had to skillfully conceal her bump.
For inspiration, Mykia, possessing a knack for abstract thinking akin to my own, texted me three photographs: a mountain bathed in the glow of a sunrise, a lightning storm, and an image of Cardi B in a burgundy tulle dress (should you wish to view our original Pinterest board, it can be found here).
Drawing from a lighter color palette to ensure Mykia would glow onstage, I immediately delved into designing the look, taking cues from the Cardi B dress and the architectural finesse of designer Giambattista Valli's tulle creations. I learned that tulle is surprisingly forgiving, versatile, and a breeze to drape, making it one of my favorite fabrics to work with.
Although the dress exceeded my wildest expectations, I learned I am not one of those artists predisposed to thrive under pressure. Enduring several intense panic attacks throughout the process, I scarcely slept for more than 20 hours during the final week, and found myself stitching frantically until merely an hour before Mykia graced the stage. Despite the chaos, I also learned I flourish when confronted with abstract concepts in design.
II. A Gown Overrun with Ants | January 2020
It couldn't have been more than an hour after the announcement that New Orleans' sensation Tank and the Bangas had secured a nomination for Best New Artist when Tank herself dialed my number, stating, "You know you're making my dress, right?"
"Absolutely!" I beamed back, my heart pounding against its ribcage. Despite having designed for the red carpet and even for the Grammys, there was an undeniable weight to dressing a nominee. What if they won? All eyes would undoubtedly be fixed on the dress as they took the stage. What if the camera zoomed in, exposing any and all imperfections in my work? And, of course, the perpetual fear that plagues all designers: what if there's a wardrobe MALFUNCTION???
Nevertheless, amidst the choir of doubts echoing in my mind, I resolved to create the finest fucking garment I had ever conceived. We deliberated over shapes and fabrics. She expressed a desire for feathers and a peplum. While we quickly settled on a silhouette, the choice of color presented a challenge. Having designed for Tank previously, I knew her fondness for vibrant and bold hues, yet pastels rarely found their way into her onstage wardrobe. Drawing inspiration from one of my cherished movies from my youth—1997's modern rendition of "Cinderella" starring Brandi—I envisioned Tank in a powder-blue confection reminiscent of Brandi's enchanting ballgown, complete with a sweetheart neckline and regal peplum. Understanding Tank's own Cinderella-esque story, I was convinced that draping her luminous, velvety skin in this ethereal hue would result in an unforgettable look. Tank eagerly embraced the idea.
My favorite part of this gown is a small easter egg I created. To this day, I’m unsure anyone knows about it other than Tank and possibly the band. On the front of the dress, I sewed on 24 karat ants as a nod to the band’s original song, “Ants", one of my favorites.
III. A Pink Cloud for a Dress | May 2021
“I want to look like a pink fluffy cloud on my wedding day. Can you make that happen?”
“I can definitely make that happen.”
I knew Lex's dress would be both exhilarating and my most significant design challenge to date. She envisioned something airy and celestial, crafted from tulle in a blush pink hue. With several substantial projects already under my belt, I embraced a newfound confidence in my craft, eager to elevate my design portfolio.
During the pandemic, I immersed myself in fashion documentaries, including "Signé Chanel" (you can watch some full episodes for free here). Putting aside my strong personal feelings regarding Karl Lagerfeld and Coco Chanel, I found inspiration in the meticulous craftsmanship showcased by the seamstresses crafting haute couture gowns by hand, particularly the intricate beadwork. Determined to infuse Lex's wedding dress with a touch of couture flair, I decided to embark on the challenge of hand-beading a corset, using vintage beads and hand-dyed pearls and flowers.
To ensure a perfect match to Lex's skin tone, I handcrafted my own illusion lace by custom-dyeing tulle. The aim was to achieve the illusion of a sheer bodice without revealing too much.
What I'm particularly proud of with this dress are the nursing straps I incorporated for Lex, allowing her to breastfeed her infant during the reception. Despite not having children of my own, it was a novel experience for me to consider parental functionality in a garment. To seamlessly integrate this feature into a formal gown was incredibly fulfilling.
Whew! What a journey. As we took this moment to look back at some of my cherished projects, I hope you found this retrospective enjoyable. It's more than a trip down memory lane; it's a reaffirmation that my work as a dressmaker is important and, hopefully, leaves a lasting impact on those I have the privilege to design for.
As I venture deeper into this new year, I am committed to continuing this legacy of dressmaking through my craft. I see each creation as an opportunity to celebrate and honor the legacies of those who came before me, and to also pave the way for future generations of Black dressmakers.
If you are interested in having a bespoke garment designed and made, please feel free to reach out by filling out the form below. I am still accepting projects for this year, though my dance card is filling up quickly!
This was a fascinating read. I love the way you write about your creations and look forward to reading more! 🖤
(Also, I'm sure you don't need anyone to tell you but those dresses are stunning!! They look like they came out of fairyland.)
You craft words in the same Beautiful way you make dresses…thoughtfully with an eclectic unique flair! A perfect read with a delicious beverage to be enjoyed together. Please keep writing and designing!