Fashion’s Fine Line: Appreciation vs Appropriation
In 2018, Heidi Klum, known for her over-the-top Halloween costumes, crossed a line at her annual Halloween party. Her choice to dress as the Hindu goddess Kali wasn’t just a bad costume decision; it was a glaring example of cultural appropriation. Klum’s elaborate costume, complete with the makeup and accessories sacred to Kali, wasn’t seen as a tribute but rather as a disrespectful caricature of an important religious figure. This incident is a prime example of how thin the line is between cultural appreciation and appropriation, especially in a costume culture that routinely strips traditions of their deeper meaning for the sake of aesthetics and profiting.
But what exactly is cultural appropriation? According to Cambridge, it’s “the act of taking or using things from a culture that is not your own, especially without showing that you understand or respect this culture.” It’s not just an innocent misunderstanding. When done carelessly, it’s exploitation disguised as admiration, a reality that plays out repeatedly, especially in the fashion industry.
Take the case of French designer Isabel Marant in 2015. She marketed a dress almost identical to the traditional costume of the Mixe people of Oaxaca, Mexico. The huipil, a garment with centuries of history, was turned into a high-priced item in Marant’s Spring/Summer collection, with no acknowledgment of its cultural roots. Marant didn’t seek permission from the Mixe community or offer them any compensation. Yet, she had no reluctance about profiting from their heritage, carelessly labeling it as “bohemian appeal.” Meanwhile, the people of Mixe had to fight for recognition while Marant reaped the financial benefits. This was not cultural inspiration, it was outright exploitation.
The line between cultural borrowing and exploitation is not clouded. It’s obvious. When sacred elements are taken from a culture, stripped of their meaning, and branded with the designer’s name, it’s exploitation, plain and simple. Yet, this kind of cultural theft is rampant in today’s aesthetic-obsessed world. Holy symbols become fashion trends, and meaningful traditions are reduced to Instagrammable moments. Sacred symbols are reduced to just fashion statements, and rich traditions become nothing more than social media fodder. When celebrities show off saris or fashion houses put kimonos on runways for shock value, they aren’t honoring these cultures, they’re commodifying them.
The most insidious part is how easily these acts of appropriation get dressed up as appreciation. Designers claim to be “inspired” by other cultures, but what that means is, “I found something cool that I can sell.” Without extensive research or giving credit where it’s due, it’s not inspiration, it’s theft.
The commodification of cultures is where this issue escalates. When companies mass-produce imitations of sacred garments, like the Native American headdress or the kimono, they’re not honoring those cultures, they’re turning them into cheap fashion statements, erasing their cultural values. And let’s not forget, the actual communities behind these traditions almost never receive any compensations from these exploitations.
Cultural appropriation has always been around. It dates back to the days of colonialism when the trade of exotic goods was allowed for the blending, and by extension theft of cultural treasures. In the 18th century, individuals like Marie Antoinette flaunted their Indian Kashmir shawls, turning them into a status symbol for the European high society, disconnected from their original cultural significance.
By the 20th century, designers like Paul Poiret and Charles Worth were borrowing from African, Asian, and Indigenous cultures without any acknowledgment of the source, setting the stage for a long history of fashion’s exploitative relationship with cultural traditions.
Cultural ownership is the crux of this issue. It’s about more than just symbols or art; it’s about who has the right to control, represent, and profit from a culture’s traditions. When outside parties take without permission or understanding, it’s not just theft, it’s erasure. It strips away identity and agency from the very people to whom that culture belongs.
At the end, true appreciation acknowledges the importance of cultural symbols, traditions, and practices hold, engages with them thoughtfully, and gives respect where respect is due. Appropriation reduces all that and often uses cultures as commodities or aesthetics, lacking regard for their history or meaning. In such a world, it’s crucial to treat other cultures with caution and sensitivity to ensure that richness is being honored and not exploited for personal gain or profit. So, essentially, the line gets blurred between appropriation and appreciation.
