Superfine & Dandy

A many-splendored cast celebrates the new exhibition at The Metropolitan Museum's Costume Institute, which tells the story of Black dandyism as a joyous sartorial force and a crucial tool for moving the social and political needle. Jeremy O. Harris walks us through it and writes about a lifetime of looking sharp.

- Jeremy O. Harris

"You're looking sharp, little man!" said the photographer as I sat down. I remember smiling bright and wide and holding on to my mother. "My mama picked it out!" I said of the suit and bow tie. The air in the room shifted. Everyone in the JCPenney photo studio looked at my mother, who was 21 and beaming, even though she was taking this family portrait alone. The nervous, pitying glances faded away. Looking "sharp" was a way to communicate to people that I was taken care of.

When I was asked to consider how I came to be a dandy-the type of man who flaunts his elevated wares much to the awe and fright of many around him-I called my mother, the person who has known me the longest. We looked over family photos and began the arduous task of dissecting every outfit I've ever worn. The first thing we noticed was a shift as I moved from a baby to the terrible twos. I went from being a smiling chubby infant to a smiling toddler in suits and ties. I asked my mother, Why-in a photo of me at age three that has been on display in my grandmother's home for as long as I can remember-was I wearing a bow tie? She paused and considered before telling me the story of that day at JCPenney, a memory that brought my own into focus: memories that recur over and over throughout my life of people taking stock of me and my wares, and rewriting their narratives in real time. A dandy, at his or her core, is a rewriter of narratives-the narratives carved into a society's understanding about the communities from which the dandy has emerged.