“I always know you can change things. I’ve done it before.”
-Bethann Hardison
Before every Fashion Week, while I anticipate the latest designs from the top fashion houses, from Alexander McQueen, Balenciaga, and Rick Owens, I can’t wait to see if a particular legendary beauty and walker extraordinaire will strut her stuff in the finest, trend-defining garments. Of course, I’m speaking of uber diva Naomi Campbell. At the age of 53, with 66 Vogue covers under her belt, no one, and I mean no one, comes close to the way she commands the catwalk, and transforms ready-to-wear and couture into both modern armor and coveted treasure. We take Naomi for granted, and can hardly imagine style and glamour without her, but in the history of fashion, Naomi and others like her, the majestic Iman, and the tempestuous Tyra almost never came to be.
As recently as 40 years ago, when Naomi started her career after being scouted at the age of 16 on a shopping spree, there weren’t many non-white supermodels. The few darker-skinned, long-legged beauties who earned the distinction of “model” and landed jobs, were segregated, considered less than, not welcome at castings, and explicitly forbidden from many houses, editorials, and advertising campaigns. And most importantly, on the rare occasion black, non-white, and ethnic models booked gigs, they were paid a fraction of what their white peers earned. No matter how gorgeous or stunning, black, African, Latina, Asian, and Middle Eastern gamines didn’t walk for Dior or work at Chanel. Not only was a non-white face gracing the cover of Vogue not the norm, it was an anomaly, practically unheard of.
The multi-racial world and inclusive beauty standards we now demand in fashion exist because someone fought the good fight. In editorial meetings, in Paris during Fashion Week, casting sessions, and in the media, someone sounded a bell for decades to diversify the industry and the notion of beauty itself, and ensure equal opportunity for all skin colors. That trailblazer is the singular Bethann Hardison, the subject of the recently released documentary Invisible Beauty.
Hardison co-directed Invisible Beauty with Frédéric Tcheng, a French director who has helmed several fashion-themed documentaries, most notably Dior and I and Halston. The film, equal parts memoir and fashion industry history, tracks Hardison’s origin story which, like most legendary New Yorkers, began humbly in Brooklyn. Though she attended integrated schools – yes, that too was new in her formative years, it was the 60s – the young, precocious girl knew things would be different for her. Under the tutelage of an exacting father, young Bethann developed a political consciousness and fearlessness that have propelled her through challenges and humiliations in the fashion business, as an entrepreneur, and single mother.
With a stint in the hip, creative bohemian environs of the Village and Studio 54 under her belt, Hardison developed a style that caught the eye of many tastemakers and the rest is history … sort of. Bethann Hardison never fails to mention she was one of the first black models, with an emphasis on black. Though a few of her contemporaries had already broken into the industry, they were bi-racial, if not ethnically ambiguous, like Pat Cleveland and Donyale, the subject of the recently released documentary, Donyale Luna: Supermodel. On the contrary, Hardison, closely-shorn, natural 4c hair and dark skin that didn’t obscure her African origins, didn’t fit that mould.
Brimming with confidence and the belief she deserved a shot in the fashion world like everyone else in her milieu, she made strides and built a career. Then one of the most momentous events to shake up the fashion world took place in a little, almost forgotten palace on the outskirts of Paris. The Battle of Versailles, the defining walk-off of all walk-offs, has been hailed as a watershed moment that marked the ascendance of American fashion designers and loosened the monopoly of traditional Parisian houses. In reality, the 1973 fashion spectacle marked the ascendance of black models and a paradigm shift in the culture industries with a Donna Summer disco soundtrack and an entirely new standard of beauty, in stark contrast to the rigid standards of the Parisian haute bourgeoisie.
Back stateside, when the post Versailles buzz had settled, the momentum stalled and Bethann found herself confronted with a barrier, less a glass ceiling and more like a brick wall standing between herself and other black models and the modeling careers they were poised for. Intrepid and fearless, Bethann started her own agency to shepherd the next generation of black and non-white talent through the cut-throat fashion business … plus ca change… Her roster of clients and allies grew to include Veronica Webb, Tyra, Roshumba, Iman, Naomi Campbell, and Tyson Beckford. Historic campaigns were signed and covers booked, but remnants of that brick wall wouldn’t budge.
In her boldest moment, Bethann and her army of beauties morphed from mannequins into activists and created the Black Girls Coalition in the late 90s, which combined philanthropy, awareness campaigns, and a PR strategy that no one could ignore. Because industry attitudes, whether they be about hemlines, minimalism, or standards of beauty, are fickle and cyclical, the “race problem” kept rearing its head. “This season white is hot, and not white is not so hot…” When this happens Bethann Hardison is still here to remind the industry that discrimination is neither legal nor cool, and is just bad for business. When asked why she’s so adamant about diversity in fashion, Hardisonn explains herself in the inspirational language central to the objectives of trailblazing female founders in all industries. “I’m not here to put anybody down. I’m here to bring everybody up.” Invisible Beauty, its subject, and co-director are all of those things – trailblazing, inspirational, and uplifting – if not more.
If additional titles about black models seeking equal employment opportunities or a history of tragic beauties are on the agenda, the HBO documentary Donyale Luna: Supermodel is the perfect accompaniment for a double feature. I had my first glimpse of this ethereal beauty a decade ago at a MoMA exhibition of Andy Warhol’s video portraits, basically early precursors of TikToks. Amidst the striking, soul-baring mini-films of notable 60s celebrities, I was mesmerized by perfect facial symmetry and the eyes of a siren trapped in the purgatory of unrecognized beauty, endless looping on the gallery wall. Sadly this anecdote encapsulates the way Donyale’s life and career as a model unfolded.
With humble Detroit origins, Donyale (née Peggy Ann Freeman) knew her ethnicity would doom her to never having a shot in the fashion biz. Like all resourceful artists, including Jimi Hendrix, Donyale embarked on a tour of reinvention and traveled to London in the swinging 60s for opportunities off limits to her stateside. Not only did she rename herself Donyale Luna, she also claimed she was from the moon, underscoring the cynical calculation that she’d have better prospects as an extra-terrestrial than a stunningly gorgeous black girl from Detroit.
For a while it worked, Donyale was the toast of the town, scored a Vogue cover, starred in films, even Fellini’s Satyricon, but she hit the same brick wall. Whereas Bethann Hardison’s story is inspirational, Donyale’s is tragic. She passed away at a very young age like so many artists and legendary figures, an ending that only highlights Hardisonn’s work and legacy as more urgent and rousing.
