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BOOKS
‘It’s okay to be brown & bougie’ E
Lana Lopesi on what following fashion can mean when it crosses cultures
arrings were always a site of rebellion for me. By the time I was 10 I had three piercings on each of my earlobes, so I could wear three pairs — six earrings in total — at any given time. This was a nightmare when I was at school, where you were only permitted one pair, but even with the constant fear of being caught it was worth it. I thought I was so bad. Since then I’ve also had my tragus pierced and three helix piercings (on the cartilage part on top of the ear), because when your whole lobe is full so early, where else is there for you to go? Adorning my ears was a pastime of crafted rebellion. Now, I have 20-plus pairs of what I would call Pacific earrings. They’re a combination of materials — seashell, faux tortoiseshell, clay, metals and fabric. They range from minimal to huge, discreet to very bright. A pair for every occasion. The tortoiseshell hoops get good mileage because they go with anything; they’re acceptable for my day job, a conference or a nightclub — or those days where those spaces blend into each other. Then there is a simple pair of drop earrings with a loop of metal and five white seashells threaded on. These are equally versatile, but I wear them when I want the spiritual homecoming comfort of having something from the ocean by my ear. I have some in clay by Auckland-based company Aolele that are any combination of colours and shapes; a
black-and-grey variety for my allblack outfits; and a bright pink-andyellow combination which also goes well with black. Fashion has been an important fixture of Pacific diaspora life here in Aotearoa, with each generation and each era having a trend of their own. Within the past four or so years, a burgeoning Pacific earring culture has, in particular, been solidifying for women in the diaspora. Shells, seeds and weaving have a solid place on the ears, sold amid ripped blue jeans and retro Harley-Davidson T-shirts. I knew the trend was real and mainstream when I saw Asos was selling faux-tortoiseshell hoops — a material I had first known from the coveted bangles sold at Apia’s markets (after the ban on using the real tortoiseshell). These bangles would be brought home after some relative’s trip to Samoa, only to live forever in the dark of the bottom drawer. The earring trend feels like a new phase in Pacific adornment, embraced by women, femme-identifying folk or just whoever is keen to look a little cute, and is a part of a wider reclamation of Pacific culture, a renaissance of Moana cool, that can be seen in a variety of aesthetics and contexts, from urban wear to professional. When the current Pacific earring trend hit, however, I wasn’t an early adopter. “Cultural wear” was something I associated with things like church, family occasions, a feeling of cringe;
my grandparents coming back from Samoa with a new puletasi that would be stuffed in the back of a cupboard until a family occasion, normally a funeral, summoned it out; occasionally a forced performance or item. I associated Island fashion with those familial situations — and it was definitely not my clothing of choice. I thought that Pacific fashion outside these situations was worn generally by those who didn’t have other ways to access their culture, so dress became of particular importance to them, a type of performativity or symbolism in lieu of something else. I remember when a friend came over to visit days after returning from their homeland. They had brought back with them a huge bundle of cultural swag — adornments for their hair, flags, T-shirts, hoodies, jewellery, you name it. When they left I said to myself, It’s cute how much they value that stuff and how it has been incorporated into their aesthetic. But I also wondered why it wasn’t an aesthetic I shared. Fundamentally, I just didn’t think it was cool. I defended my refusal of Pacific fashion as refusing cultural performativity, but this was combined with an actual devaluing of Pacific fashion. This shifted when I found myself in a string of international settings and at international speaking events. I can’t remember what I’d previously worn to these kinds of things — I guess something understated, because no great outfit comes to mind. But I found myself caught
