Enterprising designers Fuel Apparel Market With Ankara Wax Prints
Maryanne Enanga Mokoko takes a bow at the Ankara Bazaar in Brooklyn after her Koko Nanga fashion show. Photo: Nina Roberts
Published in Forbes on April 19, 2017
A flourishing network of young immigrant entrepreneurs from Africa—with a sprinkling of first generation born in the U.S.—are creating a profitable ecosystem around modern Ankara print apparel. Ankara prints, sometimes called wax prints or African prints, are crisp 100% cotton fabrics featuring bright, super-saturated colors in bold patterns, often with hints of faux-batik.
These dazzling fabrics have traditionally been popular for the older generation’s formal wear, a top with a waist ruffle and matching straight skirt to the floor, called “kaba and slit” in Ghana. But a growing number of young immigrant designers are creating and selling contemporary silhouettes like A-line mini-dresses, pencil skirts, slim-fit pantsuits or tunics, along with funkier cuts, using vibrant Ankara prints.
At the Brooklyn Ankara Bazaar two months ago, 25 vendors, nearly all born on “The Continent,” as many refer to Africa, sold Afrocentric apparel and accessories to crowds of 20 and 30-year-old urbanites. Shoppers perused the vendors’ racks and tables, trying on a turquoise Ankara print shift dress here, admiring a brazen red and pink purse there, as Afrobeat played over the sound system.
The Ankara Bazaar fashion show. Photo: Nina Roberts
Designer Belkis Whyte, founder of Beriqisu chatted with shoppers before and after models clad in her designs strutted down the fashion show’s catwalk.
Whyte immigrated to the U.S. from Ghana as a kid. While her mom wears the kaba and slit for special occasions like weddings or parties, “I don’t relate to that in my life,” says Whyte, “but I love the prints!”
Many enterprising designers using African prints can be found on the Afrocentric ecommerce marketplace Zuvaa, which earned $2 million in 2016 according to the 25-year-old founder and CEO Kelechi Anyadiegwu. She aims to double that figure in 2017, “We’re definitely on track to do that,” says Anyadiegwu from Zuvaa’s Atlanta office.
A pivotal year for contemporary Ankara apparel made by enterprising entrepreneurs was 2013. Ankara shops popped up all over Etsy and have continued, due to customer demand. Designers like Yvonne Ghyselinck Pearson, founder and designer of Mélange Mode reports earning “over six figures” that first year. Danielle and Chantelle Dwomoh-Piper, the Ghanaian-American twin sisters who shuttle back and forth between countries, rebranded their company DPiperTwins to include more Ankara prints.
Can all races and ethnicities buy and wear Ankara prints? No one wants to be accused of trying to pull a Rachel Dolezal—the white former African studies teacher who made headlines two years ago by presenting herself as African-American—and be the uninvited guest at a BlackGirlMagic party. Who is the target market for contemporary Ankara clothing?
“You don’t have to be black to be ‘Afropolitan,’” says designer Maryanne Enanga Mokoko, which she defines as “having an affinity for Africa,” regardless of race and ethnicity. Mokoko, originally from Cameroon, adds that some customers buy her Koko Nanga pieces simply for the beauty of the print and design. “They like the patterns, they like the style and they want to rock it,” says Mokoko, “they’re not even thinking it’s from Africa.”
Mokoko, along with most designers are content with customers buying Ankara pieces purely on esthetic grounds—of course a curiosity or appreciation for Africa doesn’t hurt, but it’s not mandatory. However, if anyone wears African print pieces as an African costume of sorts, “That becomes a problem!” states Beninese designer Marianne Sodogandji, founder of Eldior Sodeck.
Many of the immigrant-owned African print apparel businesses in the U.S. follow a similar trajectory, stemming from a passion for the prints. Designers first created and wore their own African print pieces because they couldn’t buy Ankara styles suitable for the urban professional. These exquisite, colorful pieces donned by the soon-to-be entrepreneurs attracted the attention of fashionistas at the office or school, who demanded to purchase replicas. Gradually these entrepreneurs had multiple pieces produced by tailors and sold them via Facebook or Instagram to networks of friends and acquaintances. Ankara clothing brands were born; nearly all businesses were launched with little or no outside funding.
Audience members at Ankara Bazaar fashion show. Photo: Nina Roberts
Simply Ma’am’s founder Iris Ampofo-Barnes, born in Ghana, raised in Brooklyn, started out by making Ankara pieces to mix into her monotone corporate outfits she wore to the office—perhaps a crisp button down shirt paired with a lively Ankara skirt and a pair of boots.
Similarly, Mercy Nyamangwanda, one of the three co-founding sisters and CEO of EnnyEthnic, says that while growing up and then visiting family in Zimbabwe, the trio always had simple, modern Ankara pieces made by family tailors, garnering rounds of compliments in both the U.S. and Zimbabwe.
Ankara prints have made guest appearances in North America and Europe’s mainstream fashion worlds before. The designer Stella Jean based in Rome mixes it into her print-addled collections, popularized by Beyoncé who is a fan. Boxing Kitten started to use the prints full force in 2010, as did singer Gwen Stefani’s L.A.M.B. label for a season or two.
But unlike previous Ankara trends, it’s the immigrant and first generation entrepreneurs who are fueling this current movement; the prints will never be considered trendy or passé. “I was born in Nigeria, grew up in Nigeria,” says Yetunde Sarumi who launched her company YS two years ago, “Ankara, or African print, is pretty much our uniform, that’s what people wear on a daily basis.” And unlike the $450 price tag for Beyoncé’s ruffle Stella Jean dress, these dresses might cost $50 to $200.
These young enterprising designers, all women, come from families that expected them to be engineers, doctors, lawyers or accountants, not small business owners working in the fickle world of fashion. But families have come around, like the family of the 21-year-old Nigerian-Canadian Tehilah Abakasanga as her Ankara apparel business Öfuurë has quickly gained traction. In fact Abakasanga’s mom and sister are now part of the six-person Öfuurë team based in Toronto. All Things Ankara’s Nikki Billie Jean who is first generation Nigerian, is one of the exceptions. Her mom encouraged her to become and entrepreneur, “You’ll never get rich working for someone else,” she says, recounting her mother’s words.
Entrepreneur Ishmael Osekre, originally from Ghana, began to produce live events for Afrocentric small businesses. His roving Ankara Bazaar marketplace started in early 2017, providing a place where designers could reach a wider audience, make sales and meet their online customers. “It’s also an opportunity for African-Americans to reconnect to their culture,” adds Osekre.
Ankara Bazaar and similar pop-up marketplaces have become increasingly popular and give designers like Whyte a platform to earn $2,000 to $5,000 a day. At the end of April there will be three Ankara pop-ups in Philadelphia, New York City and Washington D.C.
Since the U.S. is not a post-racial society and continues to grapple with race and its heinous history of African enslavement, selling, buying and wearing Afrocentric clothing can be loaded. There’s no shortage of opinions on social media and in academia stating who can and can’t wear Afrocentric clothing, including Ankara prints, and in what context.
While most Ankara designers from Africa are aware of the U.S.’s racial issues, some are mystified why a model or customer’s race matters to anyone. They just want to share the gorgeous prints they grew up with and practically speaking, move merchandise.
Last fall an Asian-American customer wanted to buy an African print scarf she loved in EnnyEthnic’s New York City pop-up shop, but asked if she’d be “culturally appropriating” if she wore it. The trio of sisters didn’t quite know how to respond at the time because they had never heard the term before.
YS’s Sarumi recalls an email she received from a potential customer who was afraid she’d be culturally appropriating if she wore one of Sarumi‘s pieces because she wasn’t black. “That hurts my heart to hear that,” says Sarumi, who emailed back that she wouldn’t be culturally appropriating if she loves the print. Sarumi adds that the first Ankara textile company Vlisco established in 1846 was actually Dutch. Its history involves The Netherlands, Indonesia and colonialism.
“I didn’t really realize the role race would play when I first started this company,“ reflects Zuvaa’s Anyadiegwu, adding, “I don’t want to be a brand for just one race of people.” She receives at least one email a day from women who are not black wondering if it’s ok to wear an Ankara. “Can you imagine feeling like people are going to beat you up wearing this beautiful garment?” laughs Anyadiegwu.
However, Anyadiegwu, who was born in the U.S. to Nigerian parents, does empathize with those who have proprietary feelings about Ankara prints. “The issues that we have with the world going into Africa and taking something that doesn’t belong to them…” pauses Anyadiegwu, “I understand the frustration.”
Mélange Mode’s Pearson believes fashion can bridge racial and ethnic divides. She calls her esthetic “culturally fluid,” which she knows something about, as she’s half Ivory Coast black, half Belgian white, and grew up on three different continents. “My idea is to really promote acceptance,” says Pearson, who thinks everyone should feel free to experiment with fashion from a culture outside their own, “What better way to say, ‘Hey, I love your culture!’”
Each small Ankara print business has its own method of purchasing fabrics and producing garments, usually a combination of using local businesses and those in their home country, facilitated by a network of relatives and friends who travel back and forth willing to carry fabrics or finished pieces.
“We actually get a kick out of shopping for the fabrics locally,” says Corey Harris, the American half of MidgetGiraffe based in New Jersey, its other half is Linda Omeni originally from Nigeria. “It’s money well spent,” says Harris, who gets texts from the mom and pop store owners when a new Ankara print has arrived.
Since China has started to produce cheap Ankara prints, entrepreneurs like Whyte makes it a point to buy fabrics made in Ghana. “I want the money to go there. That is one industry that continues to feed and help the Ghanaian people. I would hate to see that diminished,” says Whyte, “I think that’s slowly what’s happening and I don’t want to add to that.”
Just like most small businesses across the country, these entrepreneurs do have concerns about big business and globalization crushing their current Ankara apparel ecosystem. Whether it’s a chain store like J. Crew who suddenly has a line of Ankara dresses, Chinese manufactures that put their favorite Ankara textile producers out of business, or the Trump administration slapping import taxes on West African goods.
But entrepreneurs like Ankara Bazaar’s producer Osekre remain optimistic. He envisions a collaborative future in the form of pop-up shops inside established stores like Macy’s or Urban Outfitters as Ankara print grows in popularity. And MidgetGiraffe’s Linda Omeni doesn’t think Ankara apparel will ever go totally mainstream thanks to the fabrics themselves. Ankara prints are full of little imperfections that make it a nightmare for mass production, but a delight for smaller designers giving each garment a unique edge.