BLACK FASHION FORWARD: THE GOOD, THE BADDIES, & THE BAG
- Brittanee Black
- Sep 12
- 8 min read
Updated: Nov 11
When I arrive at The Times Center at 3:00pm on the afternoon of September 6, the sky looks ominous. And just as doors are scheduled to open, the storm comes. The kind of rain that turns umbrellas inside out and forces even the most committed heel strutter to sprint. But I arrive just before the storm hits. I'm dry. I'm on time. I'm relieved.
Until a staffer at check-in tells me entry has been pushed to 3:15, and we—myself and the growing group behind me—will have to wait outside. For a moment, my heart sinks. The rain's torrential. The wind is brutal. But with the kind of dry humor only possible in the middle of fashion month chaos, the staffer smirks and kindly lets me know he's kidding.
Welcome to Black Fashion Forward—a day that played with expectation from the moment it began.
Black Fashion. Forward.
Black Fashion Forward, the inaugural symposium from Black Fashion Fair, is a day-long gathering bringing together some of the most influential Black designers, creatives, and thought leaders to share their wisdom on what it truly means to shape the future of fashion, beauty, and beyond. The day promises conversation, community, and fashion as a force of expression, an agent of bonding, and form of being.
Launched by Antoine Gregory, founder of Black Fashion Fair, the symposium is as much about intellectual rigor as it is about cultural resonance. It's more than a traditional fashion panel; It's part salon, part strategy session, and entirely overdue.
3:30pm
After check-in, I take the time to float around the room. Attendees are already gathering in small clusters, sponsor provided Perrier in hand, chit chatting. I ask a few people what brings them there—a panelist? A brand? Networking ops? And surprisingly, the common thread isn’t specificity—it's instinct. The handful I speak to don't seem to fully understand what Black Fashion Forward is. They just knew they needed to be there. Perhaps that's a testament to the marketing—black (literally) and shrouded in mystery. Or perhaps it's a testament to what Black Fashion Fair is and what it means to people. Especially Black people.
In 2016, stylist and creative force Antoine Gregory created a thread on Twitter to highlight under-appreciated Black designers. But what started as a Twitter thread grew into a living archive, a commerce engine, and a cultural institution. Today, Black Fashion Fair features an A–Z directory of creatives, a rotating marketplace of capsule collections, exclusive collaborations, and expansive Fashion Stories that reframe the narratives typically reserved for fashion’s major players. The platform is a fiercely curated space dedicated to discovering, supporting, and celebrating Black‑owned brands, from storied legends to boundary‑pushing yet-to-be known names. It’s a reclamation: of opportunity, of narrative, of the runway itself.
Gregory’s vision has always been about infrastructure. Through the Black Fashion Fair, the publication, and the foundation, Gregory makes one thing clear: Power isn’t given—it’s cultivated.
4:30pm
When the programming begins, the tone shifts— not into silence, but to focus. The panels explore everything from becoming a knitwear icon to the evolution of Black beauty and the emotional stakes of storytelling in fashion. Think TED Talk energy with better shoes. Four hours of panels capped off with a Crown Royal sponsored reception, ready-made cocktails, a hot DJ, and enough creative cross-pollination to light up half of Midtown.
Designers like Jacques Agbobly, who created a unique line of handmade knitwear during the pandemic to cope with the state of the world, and Theophilio founder Edvin Thompson. Beauty trailblazers like Danessa Myricks and Sofia Maame Thompson. Editorial heavy-hitters, image-makers, and Black style architects you need to know now—if you don't already.
The word of the day: Delulu.
One thing each of the panelists is surprisingly open about is the vulnerability and pressure of building something people actually believe in. And the amount of delulu needed to lift you up when everyone around you—from haters to neighbors to industries—are warning you to stand down.
"Intentionality is everything," says make-up artist Keita Moore in "Image Makers: Fashioning Blackness Through Editorial", "You have to have purpose and unwavering faith in yourself...and be a little delusional."
7:00pm
By the evening, there are some logistics issues—the usual delays and last-minute reshuffles—but the heart of the day is intact. And the stand out event, "Building the Bag with Brandon Blackwood", is set to begin.
Born in Brooklyn to Jamaican-Chinese parents, Brandon Blackwood is the designer who turned minimalism into a rallying cry. He straddled two fashion capitals—NYC and Tokyo—before diving into a neuroscience degree at Bard College. But fashion had its hooks in him and as a result he stealthily built a creative path while secretly pursuing fashion under the guise of science internships.
He founded Brandon Blackwood New York after launching his LLC in 2013 and debuted his first handbag line in spring 2015 (making 2025 the brand's 10 year anniversary). His initial offerings were classic, thoughtfully structured totes—named after friends or Jamaican townships—that married functionality with sentimentality.
Then came the moment that changed everything: the End Systemic Racism (ESR) tote. Launched amid 2020's social justice upheaval, the minimalist tote went viral, selling out fast, landing editorial praise, and turning a fashion statement into a social advocacy moment.
The crowd roars as Blackwood takes the stage. He looks relaxed, cozy, one foot tucked under one leg, head resting in hand. The moderator is Gregory himself, and it's clear from the start of the conversation that there's a history there, yet neither are specific about about what that history is. And, arguably, is doesn't matter. The flow of conversation is more than engaging enough to blow past it. In it, Blackwood walks us through his unconventional education history, making the jump to accessories, his earliest memory of seeing someone in Brooklyn walking around with his bag and the validation of that experience.
He speaks with reverence, not arrogance, and with a level of magnetism that can't be explained. You'd expect someone on that level—especially in the luxury goods arena—to feel untouchable. But his aura, instead, points to the purpose of the whole event—pushing fashion toward inclusivity and intimacy.
During the Q&A, he recognizes someone name from his Twitter comments and gives her a cheerful "hey, girl!", offers actionable advice on where to spend (and where to not spend) your money when starting out in the industry, and talks of the importance of being on the ground floor of manufacturing. (Can't say I've ever heard a business owner kiki about that!)
Despite going over the allotted time, there's no urgency to the chat. No "I'm booked and busy" energy despite the fact that Blackwood absolutely is.
Despite it's lightness and humor, the conversation isn't without heart. Blackwood speaks candidly about the utter exhaustion of spending ten years building a brand. And he speaks openly about losing himself in that same brand. "The brand was a big change in who I was becoming," he says. "Now, learning how to become an individual outside of the brand is everything. I had to learn how to be a person again." And it's a reminder of easy is it to get swept up in one's goals and tunnel vision that accompanies that need to succeed.
8:00pm
Panels wrap. Drinks are poured. People linger. And by the time the closing reception begins, the rain has cleared. Outside, the city is soggy but glowing; Inside, the crowd is buzzing.
Lingering outside the after-party doors, I caught one of one the hosts of the evening, Christy, one half of a sister fashion duo Shelcy & Christy, who told me her story as a transplant to New York from Haiti, spoke to me about what drew her to the New York fashion space, and after 16 years in NYC what keeps her enthralled in it. I also asked what enticed her to host the event and if she'd come back again next year. "Culture is shifting so fast," she says. "Looking to next year, it'll be so interesting to see how things have changed in the fashion space. Especially with AI—I know, AI, side eye, literally—but in a year, what will the conversation look like. I'll definitely come back next year to see."
I spoke with a few more attendees and that theme was common. Folks were eager and excited about the future of Black fashion and Black Fashion Forward and would definitely come back, if only to see how the event evolves overtime.
For anyone, Black or otherwise, who cares deeply about where fashion is going, not just what’s trending but what’s transforming, the consensus is clear: Black Fashion Forward is your front-row ticket to the next chapter.
More People Who Consider People.
From the moment I walked through the door, half-curious, half-overstimulated, every staffer I encountered was kind and welcoming. Not fake-grin retail-robot welcoming. Real-deal, “we see you” welcoming. Like your most stylish auntie just opened the door to her apartment and told you to kick off your shoes, grab a seat, and help yourself to something sparkling. From Olivia at the check in desk to the hosts to Gregory himself, who I'm sure had much more important things to do than answers my lame questions for this overlong piece on a blog no one reads.
"You need more people who consider people," says Danessa in "Black Beauty Forward: The Future of Black owned Beauty". And I can honestly every single staffer, panelist, host, and photographer I spoke to are some of the most considerate people I've ever met.
9:00pm
What's most interesting to me is not everyone in the afterparty room is a designer, stylist, or fashion major. Many of the attendees are either looking to be inspired or just fans of fashion looking to yap with fans of fashion, making it clear Black Fashion Forward isn't solely about clothes; it’s about carving out space for ideas, identity, innovation, and most importantly community—whether you’re deep in the fashion industry, follow it closely, or just love watching culture evolve. And as I stood there with a chicken stick in one hand, cocktail in the other, casually chatting with Brandon Blackwood's personal make up artist, the vibes vibing, the atmosphere cozy, jovial and celebratory, I couldn't help but feel a cultural embrace.
Despite the rain returning as I start the two block walk back to my apartment from the Q, I'm feeling energized and full of possibility. The fashion industry has a reputation for curating tight-knit groups of industry insiders. These groups, usually limited in regard to diversity, make it even more challenging for Black creatives to thrive. (I've certainly had my fair share of sour experiences..)
But no part of the night felt exclusionary.
This blog is barely a pebble at the bottom of the huge pond that is online media. Yet every single person I spoke to was kind and gracious and never made me feel I wasn't important enough for their time.
The fact that people showed up without a full understanding of the itinerary, says something about where power is shifting in fashion. Toward vision. Toward community. Toward creators who don’t need institutional validation to fill a room.
Was it perfect? No. The schedule ran fashionably late. And like any event of this type, some panels were better than others, some moderators were better prepared than others. And while Black Fashion Forward certainly has its kinks to comb out it's well on its way to becoming the premiere event for Black creativity and connection and the perfect kick off to Fashion Month (should they decide to keep the event in September).
