The Black Dandy in America was born in the post-emancipation era, had its rebirth in the 1920s Harlem Renaissance, then resurged again with the likes of Dapper Dan, Queen Latifah, and André Leon Talley. As Ty Gaskins wrote for Vogue, it is “a defiant reclaiming of space in a world that has long sought to define and confine Black identity.” Last Monday, at the 2025 Met Gala, Dandyism emerged with top hats, canes, and capes as Black artists walked the famed steps in their full finery. The theme celebrated the new exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute called “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” curated by Monica L. Miller. The Dandy in Black culture is undeniably archetypally Lilith — the queen of demons, the eternal outsider, and Biblical first woman who said, “Eff it — I’m out.”

The astrological chart for the 2025 Met Gala had Black Moon Lilith (the Moon’s shadow point) rising over the horizon in the sign of Libra. It was also opposing Venus — the chart ruler and planet of aesthetics, fashion, and art. This combination is anti-socialite, full counter-culture emerging from the shadows. Plus, Venus was in detriment in Aries and moving into a friendly aspect with Pluto — the planet of power, agency, and wealth — a symbol of Vogue’s editor-in-chief, herself. Cue Anna Wintour hand in hand with her gala co-chair, race car driver Lewis Hamilton. 

Historically excluded from fashion’s biggest night, Black artists, celebrities, and designers were front and center, but certainly not as at home as if Venus were in Libra or Taurus. The tension of being in a place that was not made for non-white people in fashion was palpable. It was Venus-in-Aries edgy. I wanted the secret to stay secret (a little bit like I long for Juneteenth and the word “woke” to return to closed circles), but it was out. It was a moment to commend as Law Roach proclaimed, “They done fucked up and made the Met Gala Black.” And yet, I felt a quiet fear of the culture vampires.

In Ryan Coogler’s undeniable blockbuster Sinners, the lead vampire Remmick hails from an ancient Celtic lineage. He’s drawn to the tune of Blues crooner Sammy, as well as the uninhibited dancing that raises hell. Remick comes from a period long before Jim Crow and is bewildered by the segregation in 1932 Mississippi. Why can’t he join the Black party? Won’t they invite him into the juke joint? (Rule number one of vampires is that they always need an invite.) Then, Remmick realizes he can leverage white supremacy as a road to redemption and a reason to join the undead. Coogler’s treatment of vampires is sly and loud at the same time. It points to the culture vampires that have long surrounded Blackness — from minstrel shows to co-opting traditional Black music forms of Blues and Rock ‘n’ Roll. They suck the life and vibrancy out of the culture and drain it for all its worth in dollars.

Usually, the way that Black fashion is appreciated in the mainstream is through the co-opt, the steal. Real dollars are stolen from artists and creators. From cornrows to do-rags, conspicuous labels, and clean-girl aesthetics, Black and Brown communities have rewritten their own narratives on fashion and style since forever. But the moment Madonna or Miley Cyrus (both of whom walked the Met Gala carpet this year) wear a gold grill, it’s fresh. When the same gold grill is worn by Black trendsetters, it’s ghetto. Even fictional (yet deeply influential to aughts style) Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City told us that she didn’t wear nameplate jewelry "for real” — it was “ghetto.” It wasn’t serious.

It’s now 2025 and long time to acknowledge the deep, historical origins of Black fashion.

The gala’s “red carpet” was midnight blue, extending from floor to wall to ceiling and spotted with yellow daisies. The effect was enclosed and claustrophobic, even womb-like. The clothes were expertly tailored, including the Church Sunday attire, canes, dramatic overcoats, ruffles, construction, as well as deconstructed, undone looks, dresses as suits, and suits as dresses. Lauryn Hill and André 3000 were singular and expressive as they took Black Dandyism and enlarged it to camp proportions. (See Jupiter, the planet of expansion, transiting their Gemini Sun placements.) André 3000 carried a piano backpack with a garbage bag in his hand. I just love it when the Dandy clowns a bit. Yet was it just me, or was there something restrained, or deferring to another’s gaze? I think that’s the thing about anything that embodies Lilith’s energy: It resists being confined to the politics of society, decorum, and blue carpets.

Whenever you take something that blooms outside of the mainstream and bring it to the center, there’s always a risk it won’t translate. Lilith, the first to flee Eden for the barren exile, was prolific in her creations, even as they were shunned by civil society. There is a potency to the dark corners of creative freedom. This is where artistic transgression is free to spawn as many movements as it wants. It flourishes in midnight ballroom spaces in the Bronx. In house parties down south. In the case of Black Dandyism, claiming the spotlight in a major institution like Vogue was a moment to celebrate (because yes, thank you, pay us) and also rife with paradox. Tools of categorization like best-dressed lists, fashion dos and don’ts, and ins vs. outs are all relics of a fashion-gatekeeper energy.

The devil may wear Prada, but it will also leech the soul out of a movement as it bestows a platform. For the exhibition to live in the culture beyond the walls of the Met as “an assertion of autonomy, beauty, and power in the face of the world that continues to attempt Black expression,” it deserves more than one night. May the Black Dandy continue to be born and reborn. May it continue to create outside of the capitalist gaze — and, therefore, inspire us all.