Candid Thoughts, words by Takeo
Every few years, magazine scans from W Mag, i-D, and other fashion-oriented publications go viral, almost like clockwork. These scans typically feature impeccably dressed Congolese men adorned in Yohji Yamamoto and other high-end brands. These men are part of a culture known as La Sape and are called Sapeurs.
From what I understand, Sape culture is about more than just dressing up in expensive clothes—it’s about cultivating fashion knowledge, honing your fashion acumen, and elevating your understanding of style. Whenever images of these brightly and immaculately dressed men pop up in the algorithm, they often climax with the reductive conclusion of “here are these African men disregarding their rent to buy clothes.” This take bothers me personally and feels disingenuous to the philosophy and spirit of Sape culture. It’s also disrespectful to a passionate group of fashion connoisseurs who are sometimes looked down upon in their own society for risking financial stability in pursuit of being the flyest around. To me, it’s about dedication to the garment, the philosophy of fashion, and the passion to acquire these pieces by any means necessary. This is not just a fringe fashion movement in a random part of the world—it’s a vibrant cultural phenomenon led by figures like Papa Wemba.
As these images circulated over the years, my curiosity about the Sapeurs grew. As I digested whatever information I could find, the intangible thesis of La Sape and the Congolese men behind it began to resonate with me more and more.
These are dark-skinned African men wearing some of the best garments fashion has to offer. They sought out the knowledge of these pieces in a part of the world, and at a time when access to these brands wasn’t common and often hard to come by—sometimes to their own detriment.
As a non-African Black man from America, this is incredibly inspiring to me. In the late ’90s and early ‘00s, one key moment in a Sapeur’s life was the pilgrimage to Europe—specifically Paris, and for those with the disposable income, Japan. Truly passionate Sapeurs would immigrate to Paris with work visas, using that time to be closer to the brands they loved and admired. Yet, in the process, they were often met with rampant discrimination and racism by the very brands and stores they cherished. Despite this, their love for fashion and their dedication only strengthened.
The Sapeurs do not pledge loyalty to any single brand, as we often see in the West. Instead, they are committed to the tailoring, fit, drape, color, texture, and silhouette that these brands offer.
We live in an era where fashion has never been more accessible, and it has been democratized like never before. These men sought out this information and acquired it—through financial hardship, conflict, civil war, or whatever hustle they could participate in. They acquired these pieces and put them on with pride.
In simpler terms, the Sapeurs were the foundational inspiration for my vision, and I wanted to show what an American Sapeur would look like. To me, it feels deeply empowering.
The more I learn about the history, the more inspiring it becomes.
It’s a truly revolutionary movement, charged with rich history and a testament to perseverance.
I wanted to combine Junior’s particular eye with my own tastes and personal closet to tell a story through environment and styling, inspired by the Sapeurs, their elegance, taste, and spirit.
It’s less of a straightforward narrative and more of a tapestry of details and references—a snapshot of a world expressed through images.
With everything going on in the Congo right now, referencing and representing a movement that was born out of anti-colonial resistance in the 1970s feels more important and relevant than ever.
* “The importance of being elegant” (2004) is available on youtube
* Excerpts from “Ma vie dans la sape” translated by Marc Beaugé and Gino Delmas featured in l’étiquette