If you ask the Observatory of Economic Complexity, the United States's top export is refined petroleum. We sent out $54.8 billion worth of the stuff in 2020. But contrary to statistics, some would say the greatest export of the U.S. is its culture. And the driving beat of that culture is music, a soundtrack that is easily transmitted across oceans and borders.
Since the first jazz riffs rose up out of the New Orleans streets in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and traveled across the sea in World War I, American culture has enchanted the world — Black American culture, specifically. Rock and roll, jazz, hip-hop, pop — each of these genres was forged and perfected within Black communities before being adopted by white Americans and then exported.
Rock and roll is probably the easiest example to point to. Elvis Presley became the King using songs originally recorded by Black artists, most notably, Big Mama Thornton's "Hound Dog." It was a winning scheme for record executives looking to attract a "mainstream" audience. By the 1960s and '70s, rock groups from outside the country, like the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin, were world-famous for their music and attitude — all of which were informed by Black pioneers of the genre. And it persists today. Hip-hop's influence can be heard in K-pop, with its R&B-smooth beats and rap breaks.
Black Americans have set a standard of hipness that has prevailed for more than a century. The rhythms and lyrics of the music are rooted in African traditions. The complex syncopations are ones that have been pounded on the drums of our predecessors in praise, celebration, or warning. You can see them in the dances that accompany the beats, with oil in our hips and the thump in our chests. The way we dress — the gold chains and bold prints — harkens to a standard of finery bestowed by African royalty of the past. These deep roots manifest themselves in Black cultures across the world. Whether it’s dancehall in Jamaica, samba in Brazil, or amapiano in South Africa, Black people's cultural expressions, different as they are, operate on a common frequency that is undeniable.
No group of people bear closer witness to this than DJs. The music and mixes they create are the mirror of these cultures, from the dancing, down to the clothes. And beauty trends are not to be overlooked here: They spread from behind the turntables, through the clubs, onto the dance floor, transmitted from party to party and city to city in the booths of these emcees. We tapped five of them to talk about how music influences their look.
Location: Johannesburg
Playing: Amapiano (a genre and scene from South Africa, combining house music, hip-hop, jazz, Afrobets, and traditional sounds from the region)
Uncle Waffles, née Lungelihle Zwane, grew up in Eswatini, a country just outside South Africa. By the time she moved to Johannesburg at 21, the foundations of her aesthetic were well in place. "A lot of people say I remind them of Aaliyah, and I do take a lot of inspiration from her," says Waffles, now 22. She's partial to form-fitting tops and baggy pants, slung low so the band of her underwear peeks out. Her hair is often worn long, whether it's been straightened, braided, or flourished with a body wave. And her makeup skews soft glam, with sharply-defined brows and glossy, neutral lips lined in dark brown, a modern version of the hallmark makeup looks from the '90s.
- FragranceBella Hadid’s Big New Life In Texas
It's no doubt Waffles is a looker, but her beauty is just one aspect of her appeal. Videos of her lively DJ sets have gone viral on Twitter, in large part because of the energy she exudes. As she spins, she submits to the music, launching into beautiful, terrific fits of dance. Her fingers, ornamented with long, square-shaped nails, lightly tap her chest as her torso moves at a staccato cadence in time with the music. She looks free — and the concept of freedom is at the core of her overall aesthetic. "There is still a lot of stigma around women embracing themselves," Waffles says. "I want to push the narrative that you can dress however you want and be whoever you want freely."
Location: Johannesburg
Playing: Amapiano
DBN Gogo is a self-described MTV Baby: "Not the '90s MTV, the new generation MTV." Growing up between Paris and South Africa, the 30-year-old, then known as Mandisa Radebe, was exposed to a number of cultural influences. And as an avid watcher of MTV in the aughts, hip-hop and R&B are some of the genres that inform the music she plays and creates, as well as her overall look.
Gogo points to Lil' Kim, Missy Elliott, Mary J. Blige, and Destiny's Child as her beauty inspirations, noting that their aesthetics also influenced the style choices for other women in South Africa. Gogo cites the late singer Lebo Mathosa, whom she calls a musical and style pioneer, as an example. Mathosa, who was popular in the early 1990s to the aughts, combined R&B, house, and homegrown African sounds. For South Africans, Mathosa's look is as memorable as her songs: She famously dyed her hair bleach blonde, a style choice that was considered a bit out there at the time. "They used to call it crazy," Gogo says. "She was Black and had blond hair, but this is the culture of hip-hop."
- FragranceBella Hadid’s Big New Life In Texas
Gogo embraces the fullness of the different kinds of Black beauty that make up her look today. When she's spinning, you'll rarely find her without a designer bag slung across her body. She favors a "natural" beat, uplifted by lush lashes and '90s-style lipstick and liner. If she's not swinging mile-long braids to pulsating grooves, she's outfitted in a unit that falls past her waist. Her style is one-part tomboy, one-part South African material gworl. "A lot of us are wearing African labels, are wearing beads, are wearing colors," she says. "There are African luxury brands that we’re tapping into."
Location: New York City
Playing: House, hip-hop, reggae, dancehall, Afrobeats, and R&B
Identical twins Angel and Dren Coleman's Bronx upbringing has been instrumental in shaping how they present themselves today. When you're raised in the birthplace of hip-hop, it's kind of unavoidable. While the rest of America saw the Bronx aesthetic — sculpted hairstyles, gold teeth, intricate manicures — as déclassé, to Angel and Dren, they were aspirational.
"I could not wait to get press-on nails," Dren recalls. "To me, the designs always said so much about the personality and self-expression of that woman." When her mother finally allowed her to get nails put on in high school, two of them broke off in as many days, but the experience was still thrilling. Everything, from choosing a design to the delicate ballet her fingers had to perform once they were on, was affirming. It was a Black girl’s rite of passage.
"I associate a lot of my Black American beauty references and choices with nostalgia," Dren explains, citing Janet Jackson, Lil' Kim, and Aaliyah as women she and her sister admired when they were growing up. The combination of influences come together in Angel and Dren's overall look. Their hair is always worn long, the skirts short, sporty, and tight. Their heels are stilt-high, but low enough to comfortably bust into a dainty-but-soulful two-step. Their skin-clinging garments often have mesh panels or cutouts. The makeup is consistent: winged liner, wispy lashes, mattified complexions, and a dusting of highlighter on the cheekbones.
The pair's bread and butter? Layering modern-day tunes over eclectic rhythms from around the globe. Their appeal is multigenerational, mixing songs any Gen-Z'er would know word-for-word with the ones your auntie remembers from her college days.
- FragranceBella Hadid’s Big New Life In Texas
Though Angel and Dren were born to Jamaican immigrants, their experience is uniquely American, one that in many ways reflects those of first-generation Afro-Caribbean Americans who built hip-hop alongside their Black American kin who have roots in the South. "Black American beauty is what I see in the mirror and it's what I see in Black women every day, [regardless of ethnicity or nationality]," Angel says. "We're all different, but that's what makes us beautiful and special."
Location: Los Angeles
Playing: Hip-hop, dancehall, soca, r&b
Kitty Cash, a.k.a. Cachee Livingston, will forever be a Brooklyn girl. Born and raised in Flatbush by a Trinidadian father and a mother of Puerto Rican and Black American heritage, the DJ lives at the intersection of Black American, Afro-Caribbean, and Latin cultures.
Cash dutifully adheres to the aesthetic markers of hip-hop. Her box braids recall those that dancehall artist Patra wore in the '90s. When Cash feels inclined to wear a brightly colored wig, it is the spirit of '90s-era Lil' Kim, Janet Jackson, and Eve that compels her. And echoes of Nina Simone's iconic, pearl-laden updo subtly reverberate when Cash wears an orange-red topknot dotted with tiny diamonds.
- FragranceBella Hadid’s Big New Life In Texas
Historically, fabulosity of this caliber hasn't been embraced by those outside of the Black community. "I can remember having long, acrylic nails with designs and it being seen as ghetto," Cash says. "Now it's called nail art. It is fab to have, but within my community, it's always been that way. Changing your hair isn't because you don't know yourself. It’s a form of expression." Cash draws on beauty standards that are true to her experience. As a DJ with a very specific point of view, she hires people within the community to help execute her aesthetic vision. "There are a lot of amazing Black hairstylists and makeup artists who I make sure to book for bigger moments," Cash says. "When it's done by people who are a part of the culture, they 'get' it, and they can have control over what is being presented."
This story originally appeared in the June/July 2022 issue of Allure. Learn how to subscribe here.
Get into more stories from The Melanin Edit:
- Chlöe Takes Her Place Among the Hip-Hop Feminists
- The Rebellious Roots of Wearing Dark Liner With Light Lipstick
- How Atlanta Became a Hub for Beauty Start-Ups
Now, watch Chlöe break down her beauty evolution:
