Khensani Mohlatlole is researching, and sewing, African fashion's history and future
The South African writer, costumer and content creator is not only shedding a light on the continent's often overlooked sartorial past but highlighting its modern fashion scene.
My interest in African fashion began as an undergraduate, when I was researching a topic for a senior thesis combining my studies in journalism, Africa and the French language. I stumbled upon the rich world of Congolese Sapeurs (members of Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Elégantes, commonly shortened to la Sape) in a French class and ended up interviewing and photographing members of this dandy movement now living in Paris and Brussels. As I wrote on the website dedicated to the project:
"Sapeurs spend large sums of money on designer clothes, which they show off at social gatherings and use as a signifier of identity and community. Fashion continues to be a way to fulfill the dream of many Congolese to achieve the markers of a good life, which their countries do not allow them to pursue in a traditional manner due to continued political, social, and economic instability.
Sapeur communities have developed within the larger African diaspora in France and Belgium, the former colonizers of the Republic of the Congo (ROC) and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), respectively. Although Sapeurs are more visual than ever with increased attention in European and international media, the future of the movement is unclear, especially with the death of many of its leaders. With increased globalization and the Americanization of culture, Congolese youth are largely turning to the United States and American fashion and music as sources of inspiration. Consequently, many Sapeurs believe the movement will only continue if it becomes an integrated part of the Congos’ political and economic systems through wider recognition of its cultural and historical significance.”
I did this research back in 2017, and it seems interest in La Sape and African fashion more broadly has only continued to expand. It will likely tie into this year’s Met Gala theme: “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” although the jury is out on how this traditional arbiter of fashion trends will handle the topic in both the parade of celebrities interpreting it for the May 5 event and the accompanying exhibition. In the meantime, I was so honored to chat with Khensani Mohlatlole. A few years ago, I stumbled across her social media videos, which wowed me for combining African fashion history and her own sewing projects. In addition to keeping history alive, Mohlatlole is at the forefront of African fashion’s present and future, and I think our conversation below is a fascinating look into her work across disciplines. But first, there’s a bunch of new pattern releases to highlight.
Scrap pile
I was a pattern tester for the new Elysa Dress and Top from Silversaga Patterns and can attest that it’s a wonderfully whimsical and relatively easy make.
Also in combined dress and top patterns is Odell from Notches, which has very creative sleeves.
I already bought the Alma Dress pattern by Fioki and can’t wait to test it out. This would also be a good project for a beginner.
Atelier Scämmit released Arizona, a versatile V-neck shirt dress that has a variety of variations. The French pattern company also put out a free mini scarf pattern to celebrate its 10th anniversary.
Vintage-inspired pattern mecca Folkwear recently acquired Green Pepper Patterns, which is known for its outerwear designs. It is releasing more and more PDF patterns, including the recent Fairbanks Anorak.
The cute Wavelength Bag from Thalias Threads Store is a fun take on current trends.
NH Patterns put out the one-sleeved Ivy Dress.
The Drawstring Vest from Assembly Line has a lot of fun layering potential.
Sew House 7’s new Revel Topper is a simple but classic silhouette.
Two recent headlines that require no further explanation:
Needle drop! The world’s first sewing machine orchestra takes Munich
Is There Life After the Nap Dress?
In the TikTok corner, here’s one of Khensani’s videos that first introduced me to her work:
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Threading the needle with Khensani Mohlatlole
Every edition of Sew You Have a Question features a Threading the Needle Interview with someone in the textile arts world whose brain I want to pick. This time, I was thrilled to chat with African fashion enthusiast Khensani Mohlatlole about her research into the continent’s sartorial history and her contributions to its modern scene.
What are some of your earliest fashion memories?
Both my parents are quite serious about getting dressed. My mom has an amazing wardrobe. She's kept everything since she was able to have money for her own clothes. She's got stuff from the ‘80s and ‘90s. I used to love playing in there. My dad as well, once he started making pretty good money, got into understanding the specifics of men's tailoring. I would go with him to his tailor. He’d talk about where the break in the man's pants are supposed to be or why you have to have certain kinds of socks because they'll show when you sit down or explain pocket squares.
As a kid, I wanted to be a wedding dress designer. My friends and I would sit after school every day and draw fancy wedding dresses. I abandoned those for a very long time and then got into fashion again when I was a teenager, when everyone had blogs. I discovered people like Tavi Gevinson. It was a place where people spoke about clothes in such a serious, profound and meaningful way. I used to dream of working in magazines. Eventually, I figured out I could try making things. I used to thrift a lot in high school. I would do my own little alterations, frankensteining garments together. I ended up going to school for fashion design. The school I went to was focused on building a class of commercial designers and training people to work at mass retailers, as opposed to doing anything super interesting. The education I was receiving was very Eurocentric and modern. I didn't see places where I could connect. I pretty much abandoned sewing.
During the pandemic, I got retrenched and had a lot of time at home. My mom asked me to alter a dress she wanted to wear. She’d worn it previously to a traditional wedding. I was looking at that and thought, I've actually never thought deeply about why we wear the things we do for ceremonies and customs. I don't know any of that history. I tried researching and found very little information.
Was there an African fashion moment that sparked your interest?
When I was in these rabbit holes, I came across images from The Black Photo Album by South African photographer Santu Mofokeng. It's images of people from different parts of Africa, some in the 1890s and the early 1900s. They're obviously dressed in European historical stuff, Edwardian and Victorian clothing. It was quite interesting to me because I hadn’t seen images of any African people from a much earlier time, let alone seeing them engaging in this thing I was getting interested in but also felt a little bit weird about because it’s so white and European. I was interested in how they found ways to combine cultural elements with what I imagine was this enforced way of dressing. Some of that was having a shawl in an Indigenous textile or the hairstyling.
That got me seeing that there's a lack of accessible information about what people who look like me would’ve been doing at the time or how they were interacting with fashion. You think of people in history only in the context of what’s in textbooks, which is everyone is enslaved or people were being forced to work in mines. But there was also a sartorial culture. They had interests. They were thinking deeply about I like these patterns or I want to look good today. That's affirming their humanity — having a sense of pride and dignity in the way they put themselves together. I related to that in the way my parents interact with clothes because they grew up in apartheid. It's seeing the way fashion can be a little bit of a radical act.
How does both researching and making garments feed each other?
That's my favorite aspect of it. The first time I went to a museum and saw the clothing in person, it completely changed even what I thought I’d understood from the theory. Every time I'm reading or learning about a thing, I get to understand it a lot deeper when I actually go through the making process. When you go through the time-intensive process of sitting there and putting a bead in, one by one, and doing embroidery, it feels like you get to inhabit the person who’d have done it historically. It also gives you a lot more time to think about things and get a more tactile understanding. Because you can look at something and see the aesthetic value. But then you'll also find its function: You get this kind of movement out of certain things and that's why you want to see them in a certain place. Or the way people size their pockets and where they put them so the weight is evenly distributed. I also find that when you get to see the process of trying to recreate something, it makes it a bit more approachable and accessible, as opposed to just a lot of jargon and terminology. You get to see the thing become 3D.
You've done a couple of what you call Africanizing projects, focusing on the fact that traditionally, more attention has been given to African prints than pattern making or design. How did you come up with that term?
My mother is Tsonga, which is an ethnic group. There's a traditional item we have called a xibelani, and it's meters of fabric gathered into a skirt. It's specifically designed in such a way for a dance you do with it, so it's made for movement. But it’s a crazy amount of fabric. It produces a very unique silhouette, a really full skirt. It's a layer of fabric folded over the waistband with two layers of ruffles. One of my friends mentioned that it reminded them of Elizabethan bicycle skirts. I was looking at these things primarily through print or surface design. I never really thought too much about what a typical Tsonga silhouette is, or what's a typical Yoruba silhouette.
But when I started looking at these closer and at the same time, starting to think about what are African beauty standards or body ideals and how these are achieved through dress, there's lots of interesting things I found and also weird ways they're connected to other thing and also very separate. A lot of what I’d see early was things that were very rectangular and unshaped. That goes back to wanting to preserve as much of the fabric as possible because there's already been so much work put into the dying, the beading, etc.
On that point, how does sustainability fit into your work?
For me, there are two facets. There's cultural sustainability in terms of preserving crafts and honoring the people who make things. That's in a lot of the philosophies I grew up with as well: There's an effort and a labor of love put into the things people made for you. There's also storytelling and depicting your culture and history, the things you have to keep passing down.
Then, on a more typical environmental level, a lot of the traditional or Indigenous sewing practices have always been zero waste and about conserving things. Clothes are designed in a way that they're easy to mend or alter. You always make the best use of the fabric. It still happens today, but it’s a bit more industrialized. On an aesthetic level, obviously it's really beautiful to wear cow skin. But there are also ethical ways to slaughter animals to do the least amount of harm, and every part of that animal is used for something. Something I'm looking into more now is that a lot of these historical Indigenous practices are from before industrialization or haven't changed dramatically since. A lot is based on biodegradable fabrics. It’s very much on a needs basis. You don't have to keep accumulating. You also understand that you just took something from nature, so you have to give back in tandem. There's a lot of ancient textile technology that people don't think of in a sustainability context, things that are woven out of grass, raffia and reeds. Those are things from nature in which the harm is much less.
I was drawn to a quote you mentioned in your podcast from Ghanaian artist El Anatsui: Cloth is to Africans what monuments are to Westerners. What about that touched you?
When I began this research, I was specifically into my culture and heritage and was finding nothing. It gave me this feeling of not having a history or a place I come from. It feeds into a lot of these white supremacist narratives of this being a dark continent before or a bunch of savages with no culture. That quote made me realize I was looking for these answers in universities and academic books, these Western institutions in origin. When actually, some of those answers are in my house on a cushion cover or a dress I wore to my sister's wedding. That's actually the thing that's bearing this history and heritage. I also like that with texiles, you get to live in them and have a more intimate experience. You have to go to a monument. It may be in a far-off place. But all of us wear clothing on our bodies. On a spiritual level, you are always carrying that with you.
In terms of modern African designs, who’s exciting you?
A lot of my favorite South African designers are also history and heritage-focused. Rich Mnisi draws a lot from Tsonga culture. He's inspired by the matriarchs in his family. He also draws on other African mythology and folklore. He had this collection inspired by this Ghanaian god of vomit, which is really cool. Then there's Thebe Magugu. He is focused on the things he saw his aunt and mom wearing around apartheid-era South Africa. He once designed a print that was based on spy documents. There's Wanda Lephoto, who got his start doing recreations of vintage Black images in South Africa during apartheid. He brings a lot of really interesting things to the work he does now, like looking at African church uniforms. There's also Sindiso Khumalo. She references a lot of historical African women in her work.
There’s also designers who are keeping with age-old practices or fashioning them in a more contemporary context but still holding on to that heritage, like Bubu Ogisi. She's Nigerian. She did a collection based on African masquerades. She did insane, otherworldly giant costumes with huge masks. She also has a very sustainable aspect. Se takes a lot of the waste that floods parts of West Africa and manipulates the fabric. And she works with a lot of traditional tailors. It's a really exciting moment on a historical and contemporary level.
Super amazing post. I love her fashion style!