Edward Enninful’s memoir tracks a refugee’s journey to the top
Edward Enninful’s powerful memoir tracks a refugee’s journey to the top of the fashion industry.
L ong before becoming the first black editor to helm British Vogue, in 2017, Edward Enninful was accustomed to not getting enough sleep. At 13, he fled Ghana for London with his family, a journey he recounts in his memoir, A Visible Man, out this month.
“We had to move countries and just keep it moving,” Enninful, 50, says in an interview at his London top-floor flat. His current place, which he shares with his two soulmates – his husband, film editor and director Alec Maxwell, and their “naughty” Boston terrier, Ru – is not far from the eclectic Ladbroke Grove neighbourhood, where he lived in council housing with his family as an adolescent.
His ambition rarely slowed either. At 18, Enninful was selected to be the youngest fashion director at i-D magazine. He worked his way through the American and Italian editions of Vogue, then W magazine, before joining British Vogue, all the while facing challenges from racism to the temporary loss of his eyesight in 2016.
His first break came at age 16, when he was spotted on the London Underground by stylist Simon Foxton and asked to model. Does he ever think about what would’ve happened had he taken the bus instead? “Every day!” he says. “But you realise that somebody can find you, but to stay there, to retain longevity, you have to work.”
You say in the book you’d been approached many times to write a memoir. So why now?
I’m not really that comfortable turning the light on myself, but of course lockdown happened and George Floyd was murdered and the world changed, and (there was this) outpouring of people from all around the world, essentially, to support the black race. Seeing all those young people, I just thought, you know what, it’s time to write this book. People look at me, or anyone successful, and the new generation, they see where you are now, they see who you are, what you do, but I really wanted to tell the story of a journey. I literally started from scratch, with nothing.
In the book you say being black in the workplace “is not a recipe for inner peace”.
When you go to the workplace as a person of colour, you sort of have to know your own rules. It’s almost like every day you’re dealing with two, literally two, conversations in your head: Who am I; who should I be? And what is expected of me in this environment to be able to thrive? (When I was an ad campaign stylist for Calvin Klein in New York in) the ’90s, that was shocking for someone from i-D magazine in London, growing up in Portobello, used to (seeing) different races, and then walking into this pristine, white space and having to deal with corporate America essentially for the first time … But you know what? It was the best lesson. What a baptism.
Then you moved through the ranks: W magazine, Vogue. Now you’ve been additionally appointed Vogue’s inaugural European editorial director.
I talk to my friends like Pat McGrath and Naomi Campbell (about this). The three of us in the ’90s, we propped each other up. One thing I’ll say to you is, when you’re “the one”, or people see you as “the one”, it’s your duty to bring others up with you. I don’t want to be the one, the only one. I don’t want to be the one standing there on my own.
Reminds me of Maya Angelou, whom you reference in the book, and her famous quote you’ve spoken about in the past: “I come as one, but I stand as ten thousand.”
Oprah loves that one too. All our ancestors are behind us. I don’t just walk in the room alone. I walk with a sense of history and a sense of purpose.
“People look at me, or anyone successful, and the new generation, they see where you are now, they see who you are, what you do, but I really wanted to tell the story of a journey. I literally started from scratch, with nothing”
What was it like opening up about the more personal aspects of your story, such as your relationship with your father?
He was in the army. It was very difficult; he didn’t quite understand me, and I didn’t understand him. Ghanaian parents are very old-school, authoritarian, so I guess he was doing his best, but when my mum passed (in 2016) that’s when we really started to understand each other. I saw a man who was really devastated over the loss of his wife, and I’d never seen that sensitive side. He also saw me go from a kid who was so shy, an introvert really, to who I am today, so I think we’re still learning.
You learned so much from your mother, a talented dressmaker.
The taste level was out of this world. And my eye for colour combinations came from her. My first love was my mother. I grew up with strong women, bringing up kids on their own. And not only that, women of all shapes and sizes. When we came to England and found out that the ideal weight was thin, I was shocked, because in Ghana, the bigger, the curvier you were, the more revered you were.
In the memoir, you tell the story of meeting Michelle Obama, who told you that you should be a teacher. Is this your textbook?
It didn’t start as that, but if (that’s what it becomes), I’ll be thrilled. I want everybody reading it to know not to be scared to challenge or question – that’s what I’ve always done – and also not to be scared of your failures, because without my failures I wouldn’t be here. I think a lot of the newer generation thinks everything has to be perfect. On Instagram, everything is perfect. There is no perfect life. I’ve had the lowest of lows and the highest of highs but, at the same time, I still can’t stop a taxi on the street. That propels me to keep going, but I don’t take anything for granted.
The Wall Street Journal
A Visible Man (Bloomsbury $32.99) by Edward Enninful, is out now.
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