How hip-hop revolutionized high fashion

For the book, Krishnamurthy spoke with a number of rappers and designers, including Nas, A$AP Ferg, Meek Mill, Dapper Dan and Tommy Hilfiger. COVID moved some of those interviews to Zoom, but she fondly remembers her in-person encounters, like chatting with Cam’ron while he was shopping for jewelry right before his Verzuz performance. Or Pusha T tells her that “he actually gives away a lot of his clothes because his closet is too big. I’m like, “Tell me where that Goodwill is and I’ll take those clothes off your hands if you need to.”

Thanks to these first-hand accounts, Fashion killer traces the evolution of hip-hop style over half a century, from rappers imitating luxury brands (like LL Cool J and Big Daddy Kane wearing Dapper Dan knock-ups), to inspiring said brands and, in many cases, becoming designers and define luxury on their own terms.

Along the way, she tells the stories of designers like Karl Kani and April Walker, who catered to rappers in the ’80s and ’90s. “They were largely minimized at the time as so-called ‘urban designers,’ which was a way of saying that your core audience isn’t essentially white people,” she says, “but they were really successful streetwear brands.” clothes. Because whether it was April’s relationship with Biggie Smalls and Tupac or Carl using Tupac and Puffy as his first brand ambassadors, they were able to work with these future fashion icons.” Many brands today “essentially copy” what they did, creating things like signature hoodies or denim suits. “It’s great that after all these decades these brands are getting the recognition and recognition they deserve,” she says, “because without them we wouldn’t have Sean John, we wouldn’t have Rocawear, we wouldn’t have Baby Phat.” , we don’t get anything out of it.”

She traces hip-hop’s love affair with Polo Ralph Lauren through the story of the Lo Lifes, a group of young men from Brooklyn who began hyping the brand in stores and became some of its most ardent fans. (“They were literally walking billboards and probably connected with more people than traditional advertising.”) And she looks at how music figures like Snoop Dogg and Aaliyah helped popularize Tommy Hilfiger. The rap fandom for both brands was very strong. “It became almost a competition: ‘Are you a polo fan?’ Are you Tommy’s man? You both? For Aaliyah’s Hilfiger shoot, pieces from the designer’s men’s collection were cut up and repurposed: a pair of men’s underwear turned into a bandeau. “Being more collaborative and letting the artist have input into it made real sense,” she says.

Soon, of course, rappers opened their own fashion lines. “You started seeing guys with an entrepreneurial mindset, like Puffy and Dame Dash. They came and said, “Why are we supporting other people’s positions when our name is popular on the streets?” We’re the ones who move things.”

At the time of our conversation, it had been several months since Pharrell Williams’ debut show as creative director of men’s brand Louis Vuitton, a bona fide pop culture event that brought Beyoncé, Jay-Z and Megan Thee Stallion to the front row. Krishnamurthy calls it a “full circle moment: now he’s sitting in these sophisticated rooms where Dapper Dan used to have to take logos and create his own version of what looked good to the hip-hop audience. Farrell is welcomed with open arms and his ideas are brought to life… I like to say that Farrell gave me the best period for this book.”

Another important narrative thread is the group of female rappers who helped push fashion forward. In the beginning, many female artists wore baggy clothes and imitated the style of their male contemporaries. When Lil’ Kim introduced a sexier image to the masses, “there were people from parent groups to daytime TV hosts, even female fans who said, ‘We don’t like what you do, what are you doing?’ you are selling. We believe that this demeans you; it humiliates us.” She faced a lot of backlash.”

These conversations carry over into the present day, with constant comments about what artists like Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion are wearing. “As a woman artist, there will always be this constant struggle. How much emphasis should you place on what you wear or what you note tedious? How much skin should you show? Does this somehow undermine you as a smart, competent and talented rapper?” Krishnamurti says. “I’d like to live in a world where just because you wear a bikini doesn’t mean you can’t be an intelligent and respected professional.”

She notes that “Whenever people talk about the greatest rappers of all time, it’s rare for a woman to even make the list. And if (someone does) it’s usually Lauryn Hill because she’s beautiful and talented but she’s also been hidden and that makes people feel safe and like she’s a “good girl.” This is unfortunate because since the beginning of time, men have been hypersexual and hypermasculine. No one is going to question your morals behind the scenes: “Are you a good father?” Are you a good role model?”

The most successful female rappers today, she says, are those who shrug off criticism and “stay true to themselves. What if it means you ruffle a few feathers? I know it.”