“Seen by Whom?”: A Psychological Breakdown of Black Dandyism, The Met Gala, and the Performance of Visibility

I watched the Met Gala this year, waiting to see how the theme would unfold. Black dandyism, an aesthetic rooted in resistance, swagger, and defiance. And then I heard it: an interviewer asked Colman Domingo how he felt attending the Gala, and he replied, “I feel seen.”

And I froze. Seen by whom?

It’s a question I couldn’t shake. Because to be “seen” implies an observer. A gatekeeper. Someone who gets to decide what’s worthy of attention. And at the Met Gala, those eyes belong to an institution built by and for white power, white wealth, and white cultural dominance. So when we say we feel seen in that space, we have to ask whose gaze are we standing in?

A White Institution Draped in Diversity

The Met Gala Is a machine curated and controlled by Vogue under Anna Wintour’s leadership, part of the Condé Nast empire. The Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which the Gala funds, is a white-governed institution with deep roots in Eurocentric frameworks. Every invitation, seat, and theme must pass through the lens of whiteness to be deemed valuable.

So when the theme is “Black dandyism,” it’s still being curated under a system that was never designed for Black autonomy, expression, or liberation. The theme may appear to center Blackness, but the power still doesn’t.

Black Dandyism: A Fashioned Rebellion

Black dandyism emerged as a form of resistance. It utilized sharp tailoring, luxurious fabrics, and ornate details in clothing to assert worth in a world intent on denying it. Each stitch defied stereotypes, and every meticulously selected garment conveyed a message: I exist, I matter, I demand to be seen.

During the 18th and 19th centuries, Black men in the Caribbean and the Americas started embracing the fashion of European elites. Both enslaved and formerly enslaved individuals used clothing as a means to challenge racial hierarchies. By donning silk cravats, top hats, and polished shoes, they asserted a sense of dignity that laws, systems, and white society attempted to deny them.

These men were excluded from elite circles. Their attire wasn't meant to seek admiration. Instead, they dressed to assert their humanity in public, to maintain dignity despite being watched and marginalized. Their clothing became a form of armor, a bold statement of defiance against invisibility.

In the 1940s, zoot suits carried this same energy. Oversized jackets, padded shoulders, wide-legged pants demanded space. These suits rejected respectability politics. They embodied confidence, swagger, and presence.

Black dandyism combines joy and rebellion. Its vibrant bright yellows, deep purples, and rich reds symbolize pride and self-determination. These colors were not merely decorative; they challenged the dull, muted, uniform world that Black people were compelled to inhabit.

A Black dandy stood out prominently. A Black dandy drew attention.

This is what made the Met Gala so peculiar to observe. Although the theme was grounded in boldness, the red carpet was dominated by gray, silver, black, and white. The tailoring was exact, and the silhouettes were striking. However, the vibrancy, the joy, and the daring spirit were absent. The essence of Black dandyism seemed to be minimized into something safe, something non-disruptive.

It turned into a subdued celebration, a choreographed performance. In that transformation, something essential was lost.

Fashion Psychology: What Happens When Expression Gets Sanitized

In terms of fashion psychology, Black dandyism embodies complex layers of identity formation, defiance, and visibility.

Style reflects our self-presentation, shapes our identity, and affects how others perceive us. Black dandyism served as a psychological mechanism. It reinforced self-esteem in a society structured to undermine it, challenging both internalized inferiority and external disregard.

Clothing served as a visual statement of empowerment. Bright colors, layered textures, and bold silhouettes were not mere indulgence; they were a means of survival. These choices enabled Black men to assert their visibility on their own terms.

At the Met Gala, the sense of psychological rebellion seemed muted. The theme was followed in appearance but lacked the spirit. The fashion appeared impressive, yet it didn't evoke dandyism. It seemed more like adherence to elite aesthetics masquerading as homage.

At the Met: The culture of the Black dandy

The $31 Million Raised And the Real Cost

This year, the Met Gala generated an unprecedented $31 million for the Costume Institute. At first glance, this appears to be a success. However, we must consider: success for whom?

The funds are allocated to exhibitions and the preservation of fashion history within an institution that is still led and curated by white individuals. Although this year's exhibit focused on Black style, it is still being showcased in a museum that belongs to others, within their framework.

We don’t have our own.

We've led ourselves to believe that being part of exclusive white spaces signifies power. We think that walking the red carpet, being photographed, and being "visible" under the lights means we've succeeded. However, this illusion is a psychological trap, a form of mental enslavement dressed in high fashion.

We've accomplished this in the past. During the Harlem Renaissance and segregation, we established our own spaces. Places where approval or performance weren't necessary. Black theaters, Black balls, and Black artists creating on their own terms.

Even today, we continue to seek validation from the white perspective. We still regard Black-owned entities as inferior. We are reluctant to establish institutions with the same enthusiasm and sophistication that we apply to the Met stairs.

Julius Soubise (c1756-1798)

Dandyism and Narcissism in White Spaces

Examining early instances of Black dandies who were celebrated in white society reveals how rebellion can quickly become part of a spectacle. Some were accepted, showcased, and admired, but only because they entertained or intrigued white elites. The boundary between empowerment and performative narcissism becomes unclear in environments where you don't control the narrative.

Dandyism confronts the perspective of whiteness, asserting presence where absence was anticipated.

Thus, when we condense that history into an event organized by the same institutions that Black dandyism opposed, we're not reclaiming power; instead, we're yielding it in a more attractive form.

Whose Gaze Are We Dressing For?

Colman Domingo expressed feeling "seen". Yet, we must question: seen by whom?

Being visible within a system designed to exploit our culture does not equate to freedom. Exhibiting style near whiteness is not synonymous with having power.

We deserve environments that reflect, honor, and are created by us, without needing approval, applause, or oversight from others.

Until that happens, we will continue to dress for spaces belonging to others and label it as pride.

Written by: Kela Stubbs

Style & Identity Theorist

Style isn’t surfaced level. I study how it works, why it matters, and what it really reveals.