We Need to Talk About the Hair at Sunnei

In fashion, inspiration can come from anywhere—art, history, music. But for white designers, the world is often one big mood board, with no cultural boundary too sacred to borrow from. And when it comes to hair, the stakes are even higher. Black hairstyles—cornrows, dreadlocks, Bantu knots—have long been policed, politicised, and penalised when worn by Black people, yet time and time again, these same styles are repackaged as high fashion on the runway. A reminder of today’s societal power structures that dictate which aesthetics are deemed acceptable, desirable, or subversive—depending entirely on who is wearing them.

When the same industry that marginalises Black hair suddenly finds it aspirational, we must ask: who gets to define cultural value, and why do those in power keep getting it so wrong? Emma Dabiri, in Don't Touch My Hair, puts it plainly: 'The very styles that result in discrimination when worn by black people are precisely those that are elevated as high fashion when appropriated by white people.' It’s a double standard as old as the industry itself, and yet, somehow, designers keep finding new ways to prove they haven’t learned the lesson.

Enter Sunnei’s latest show in Milan. Between the signature stripes and chunky knits, something else took centre stage: wigs styled into twisted braids that felt uncomfortably familiar. While rag dolls were cited as the official inspiration, the imagery evoked much more to our editors as the show unfolded. Reflecting on this moment, we are once again confronted with the question: Has fashion learned nothing from its past mistakes, or is it simply choosing to ignore them?

In January, a lively conversation about race relations in Milan took place between a few image-makers and me. As the Sunnei A/W 25 hair story comes to an end in Milan, our consensus could not have been more unified. Before today, Sunnei was the cheerful fashion outlier in Milan. After tonight’s display of appropriation, ethnic crudeness, blunt ignorance, and bad taste, you tend to think fashion will never learn.

Still, this fashion optimist suggests rewatching Amandla Stenberg’s 2015 viral essay on Black borrowing. In an age where far too many non-Black people say 'Bet!' like it’s their right, you long for the days when a simple eye-roll at Katy Perry’s foolishness was enough before finishing your day unbothered. That was watermelon, wasn’t it?

• Christina Aguilera cornrows circa-2001
• D&G Mens A/W 03
• Junya Watanabe Womenswear Casting
• Junya Watanabe Womens S/S 08
• Jourdan Dunn at Prada A/W 08
• Miley Cyrus’ entire 2013
• Frankie Morello S/S 13
• Alexander McQueen A/W 14
• Valentino S/S 16
• Gucci A/W 18, Look 38
• The Pradamalia A/W 18 simian robot
• Hedi Slimane in 2020 BLM solidarity on Instagram
• Bottega Veneta S/S22 by Daniel Lee, Detroit Edition
• On 14 December 24, Vogue App Posts Runway Genius Game: Jourdan Dunn Edition Using Liya Kebede’s Face. Leaves ‘Mistake’ Up Over 14 Hours.
• Add Sunnei A/W 25 here. On the last day of Black History Month no less.

No hyperlinks for significant references above. Do the work yourselves. My Blacks are too blue for that right now. 

M-C Hill, Fashion Critic

I was at the show in Milan on Friday afternoon—so were many other editors, journalists, and industry peers, alongside friends of the brand. Sunnei seems to be on a path to growth following investment from fashion group Vanguards, as the show took place in the courtyard of their HQ, where they are set to open their first permanent retail space. Eyes are on them right now. People rightly get excited about Sunnei—not just for the stripes, colour-dipped chunky earrings, and wearable fun, but for their shows' reputation for intelligent yet playful formats, such as giving guests voting paddles.

That’s why, when an orange wig came walking down the runway as part of look 8, I looked twice but waited for the punchline. Then came look 15. I thought of when girls with bleach-blonde hair go on holiday and get their hair braided for an exotic summer look. I thought of the two white male designers and the team behind this show, who may not have intended to mimic Black hair but clearly did not see the red flag. Things got worse in looks 24 and 28—the latter the only one worn by a brown model.

Hair must be treated as more than aesthetics and respected for its cultural value. Sunnei’s pursuit of fun this season came at the expense of Black culture. The audience around me didn’t bat an eyelid—aside from an editor friend sitting across from me, who happens to be brown, raising his eyebrows at me as the crowd applauded.

Hetty Mahlich, Editor

At what point did fashion stop caring? We’ve seen this cycle play out time and time again, with brands excusing their ignorance as mere 'mistakes'. Now, Sunnei has added itself to the long list of culturally naïve fashion brands. What was meant to be a playful moment became yet another display of how fashion continues to disregard cultures outside of white spaces. The collection may have been lighthearted, but the impact was not. The industry thrives on selective amnesia, conveniently forgetting past controversies as it moves on to the next trend.

In a world that is becoming increasingly emboldened in its racism, everyone has a responsibility to actively engage in anti-racist work—especially brands operating within our capitalist framework, which forge and profit from identity as an aesthetic, and particularly on the global stage that fashion week provides.

At best, it’s offensive and irresponsible. More likely, it’s dangerous. Culture is not a costume. Birthrights are not commodities. Nonchalance is violence. Fashion can no longer claim ignorance—it has been called out too many times. The question is, does it even care to change?

Stella Hughes, Social Media Editor