“The shade of your very own skin never goes out of style.” (Shiona Turini, Editor, Consultant and Stylist)

A couple days ago, I was gushing about my love of minimalist sandals and used that quote from Ms Turini to explain why they are a key part of my summer wardrobe. I had read it in a Refinery29 article that was celebrating the fact that, at last, Christian Louboutin had introduced “nude shoes for the rest of us” – us being the non-Caucasian women of the world.

At last, because in all honesty sometimes I feel like the fashion world is trying telling me that I, a dark-skinned black woman, I am not in style. I am not enough. I don’t belong. Here’s why:

It would impossible for me to tell you the exact number of magazines that I’ve purchased or read in the past 20 years. But one thing I can tell you is that only rarely do I see someone who looks remotely like me on their covers – or even inside. And when I do, like when Lupita Nyong’o was on the cover of the July 2014 edition of American Vogue, I also have to content with images of Gisele Bundchen and Lebron James, the “couple” on the cover of that same magazine in April 2008… Just like Jill Filipovic from the blog Feministe,  what I saw was the picture of “a scary animalistic black man, a primal scream, and a beautiful white woman.” Which now makes me wonder: how many other people, how many women, how many young black girls saw the same image her and I saw? And ultimately, how many have internalized the idea that being black means that one is brutish, aggressive, unrefined, ungracious, uncivilized and unworthy of much attention. One could say that that particular issue came out 7 years ago and that times have since changed. But have they really? There is no doubt in my mind that 2 decades’ worth of magazines have shaped my idea of what beauty is. So it would be naïve of me to think that it hasn’t done the same for others. 

This could explain why we still live in a world where it’s an accomplishment for Rihanna to be the new face of Dior. And not only because it is an honour reserved to very few women, but mostly because, as a black woman, it’s still quite a exploit for her to have been bestowed such honour. That being said, allow me to be cynical – I mean, pragmatic: let’s say that the world had to wait this long before Dior had a black ambassadress because frankly having one is probably not the most cost-effective tactic for the company… seeing as the bulk of its buyers isn’t comprised of black women. Still, this reasoning doesn’t explain why, for an example, we are still largely ignored by the cosmetics industry. Between you and I, if there’s something every black woman needs, it’s a good foundation! I’ve learnt years ago that the hyper-pigmented spots on my face will not disappear on their own. So with more 1.4 billion of Africans and people of African descent in the world, why is it that I still can’t find a decent shade of nude lipstick. And why did I have to go to 3 cosmetic stores before finding one that carried my shade of Touche Éclat? The geniuses at Yves Saint Laurent did think of my ebony skin, but the ones at Sephora clearly didn’t. Because, in Canada anyways, they don’t carry the darkest shade of the world’s most popular luminizing pen!

But I’ve digressed… this post was supposed to about my shade of nude finally being acknowledged and ultimately, catered to. And for that, I’m happy.