Lynette Lashawn
“This isn’t a costume. It’s an inheritance. It’s coded in my DNA.”
A Reflection on Black Tailoring and Legacy
By Lynette Lashawn
Dandyism has always lived in my bloodline— long before I stepped into a showroom or styled a runway. I come from working-class men who dressed with intention, even when the world tried to make them invisible.
My grandfather was a truck driver by day, and a leather-clad biker by night. Sharp in his stance. Unbothered in his presence. He wore grit and gloss in equal measure. My other grandfather spent over 30 years working for Budweiser, and he never left the house without putting it on. To him, dressing well was a sign of self-respect. It was pride in motion. Neither of them ever said the word “dandy”—but they lived it. They practiced a style rooted in dignity, in defiance, in everyday excellence.
And the women? My grandmothers moved through the world like style was second nature. They dressed up because it made them feel good. Because looking like something was a daily act of joy and rebellion. Not for the church pews—for the culture.
So when I wear this black-and-white look, with a tie that reads ICONIC, I’m not just getting dressed—I’m testifying. I’m channeling generations who showed me that being working-class never meant being without class. That tailoring is more than fabric—it’s form, memory, and message. I’m honoring the Superfine: Black Tailoring moment not just through fashion, but through legacy.
This isn't a costume. It's an inheritance. It’s coded in my DNA. I wear them—my grandfathers, my grandmothers—with every lapel, every crease, every cuff. I am the statement.
This reflection is part of a larger conversation powered by Black Girls Know Best, and I’m proud to add my voice to the lineage. Because Black style isn’t borrowed—it’s built. It’s alive. It’s ours.
Photo of Lynette Lashawn, Photographed by Tamera Fleming
