The Met Gala may have wrapped, but the spirit of Black dandyism continues to walk city streets, subway platforms and barbershops — wherever creativity meets confidence in everyday fashion. While Monday’s event marked the opening of Superfine: Tailoring Black Style at the Costume Institute — the Met’s first show devoted solely to Black menswear designers — the essence of dandyism doesn’t require a museum to thrive.
It’s been woven into Black culture for generations, from Harlem’s promenades to church pews and street corners. For Michael Henry Adams, 69, a cultural and architectural historian based in New York, it all started with a photograph. After visiting MoMA’s 1969 exhibit Harlem On My Mind as a teen, he was captivated by the elegance on display: raccoon coats, bowler hats, spangled gowns. It shifted his understanding of identity.
“I saw there was another way to be authentically Black,” Adams recalls. “Dandyism gave me that path.”
So what exactly is Black dandyism? It’s not about wealth or flash, say those who live it daily — it’s about individuality, refinement and reclaiming space through style.
According to the dandies, it starts with mindset.
“Fashion is personality,” says Guy Wood, 62, co-owner of Harlem Haberdashery. “Two people can wear the same thing and look totally different. It’s about how you wear it — and how you carry it.”
Atlanta-based style consultant Michael Andrew, 42, agrees. First inspired by Fonzworth Bentley — known for his bold colours and sharp silhouettes — Andrew sees dandyism as “the highest form of taste with self-expression.”
“You don’t need to be loud,” he says. “You just need to be sure of yourself.”
Dandyism is rooted in fine tailoring, but it’s also about play. Think textures, layers and unexpected detail.
“Texture is the must-have,” Andrew says. “Whether it’s socks, glasses, or a great hat — every dandy has their thing.”
For Wood, suits are non-negotiable. “Wearing a suit makes you feel important,” he says. He often pairs his with brogues in bright colours.
James “Gentleman Jim” McFarland, 80, a master tailor who once dressed the likes of Duke Ellington and Muhammad Ali, says that fit is what really elevates a look. “We live in a visual world,” he notes. “When your clothes fit right, people notice.”
Dandyism doesn’t require a luxury budget. “That’s a cheat code,” Wood says. “It’s being creative. Borrow from your mum’s closet. Tie a scarf like a cravat. You just can’t be scared.”
Adams agrees. He shops everywhere from Brooks Brothers to Marshalls and believes authenticity should always come before imitation.
“I didn’t want to look like ‘Shaft’ or ‘Super Fly’,” he says. “I wanted to look like myself.”
Togo-born designer Jacques Agbobly, featured in Superfine, echoes the sentiment. “It’s not just about a suit or top hat,” he says. “It’s about space, silhouettes, colour, fabric. Dandyism redefines itself.”
Today’s embrace of casual wear doesn’t sit easily with the dandies, who remember a time when dressing up was the norm.
“Everyone used to be dressed up,” says McFarland. “I couldn’t afford the looks I wanted growing up, so I learned to make them.”
Andrew encourages a return to pride in presentation. “As Black people especially, we used to throw on our Sunday best,” he says. “It was about showing up as our best selves.”
Though Superfine: Tailoring Black Style runs through October, for many, dandyism isn’t an exhibit. It’s a daily act of style, expression and resistance.
“We’ve always dressed this way,” Wood says. “We just didn’t need anyone to tell us it was art.”