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It is very rare that I find myself overthinking an outfit. While I do put ample thought into what I wear—checking the weather, getting dressed with important meetings and after-work commitments in mind, and asking myself how long I can really walk in a pair of platforms—I’m not one to spiral like Cher in Clueless looking for her white, collarless shirt from Fred Segal, or make a mess of my room, trying on everything I own while bemoaning that I have nothing to wear! There are two exceptions, though: If I’m going to a game and cheering for a team with red, white, and blue team colors, or, if it’s the Fourth of July.
A few months ago, while in Philadelphia for a 76ers vs. Golden State Warriors game, I opted for a blue crop top, a white faux fur coat, and a bold red lip. I wanted to look like I was supporting the Sixers, but I did not want to look like a walking American flag; I know I’m not alone in that trepidation.
American history is marred by atrocities against Black people: Slavery, Jim Crow, lynching, centuries of systemic racism that has permeated everything from public education and the justice system to housing and healthcare. All of this has transpired, and much of it continues to, despite the fact that the United States as we know it would not exist without the contributions of Black people. I was born and raised here. I could not be more proud of my ancestors. I have lived a comfortable and privileged life in America. But given all the ways the country has mistreated and disenfranchised Black people, I’ve never been compelled to wear patriotism on my sleeve. That sentiment is especially strong today, as I find myself increasingly enraged by this country’s current political and social landscape. This Fourth of July I will likely be in black; to me, it feels more like America’s funeral than its birthday.
My aversion to star-spangled fashion is such that in the rare instances when it actually resonates with me, I’m wholly taken aback. There is perhaps no better example of this than my reverence for Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter looks.
When Beyoncé announced the release of Cowboy Carter in March of 2024, she did so with cover art that features the Houston native atop a white horse, holding an American flag, and wearing a custom red, white, and blue Busted Brand latex ensemble (fittingly inclusive of chaps), and white Paris Texas heeled boots. In an Instagram caption, she noted the criticism she faced while pursuing country music, and how she felt unwelcome in the genre’s space—a space that wouldn’t exist were it not for the contributions of Black artists. Sound familiar?
As with nearly everything Beyoncé releases, the Cowboy Carter iconography became fodder for polarizing public discourse. In an opinion piece for The Guardian, Derecka Purnell wrote that the “pervasive idea that ‘Black people built America’ and are therefore entitled to its flag, pride, and positions of power can miss that much of what this country is and does is poisonous.” Janelle Hobson, who wrote about the visuals for Ms. and discussed them on NPR’s Morning Edition podcast, ascertained that the imagery could have multiple meanings: Reclamation, yes, but also an acknowledgement of all the convictions and contradictions the American flag can stand for. Perhaps Beyoncé is “inviting us to wrest with the contentions between our different interpretations,” Hobson opined. For Pop Sugar, my friend Jessica Andrews wrote that Beyoncé is “not embracing Americana fashion as propaganda or using it to seek white validation, [but] taking a nuanced approach. She’s honoring her Black American cultural upbringing while acknowledging the ways American ideology has been exclusionary and problematic.”
Beyoncé hasn’t spoken publicly about her album cover art or the many red, white, and blue looks she’s worn on the Cowboy Carter tour—and she and I aren’t friends (yet)—so I can’t say definitively why she has decided to lean so hard into the patriotic aesthetic. But as a fashion editor (and someone with exceptional vision) I can say that absolutely no one is wearing stars and stripes like she is. Painstakingly detailed, tailored to perfection, and rife with symbolism, the pieces that make up Beyoncé’s current wardrobe will be remembered long after the tour concludes later this month.
Since going on the road in April, Beyoncé has worn American flag Levi’s chaps—the stars and stripes rendered in Swarovski crystals—and a shimmery USA-themed David Koma football jersey. Deftly styled by a team that includes Shiona Turini, Karen Langley, and Ty Hunter, Bey donned a Coperni bodysuit with American flag bell bottoms to perform in L.A., and Burberry crystal-fringed American flag trousers in London. A red paisley bodysuit and draped overlay worn with distressed denim shorts came courtesy of Loewe, as did a checked-patterned shirt and skirt set in blue, paired with thigh-high white and red flame cowboy boots.
Black designers have been integral to the Cowboy Carter story, with Beyoncé taking the stage in pieces by Telfar, Tongoro, Ib Kamara’s Off-White, and Ferragamo by Maximilian Davis. Beyoncé’s intentionality, Turini’s talent, and a trove of custom pieces by renowned houses and emerging brands have made for an aspirational red, white, and blue wardrobe. That’s no small feat for an aesthetic often embraced by groups with a narrow, exclusionary view of who can claim the American flag as their own.
Fans show up to the Cowboy Carter tour in thoughtful, inventive takes on Western Americana fashion, stadiums filled with denim, bandanas, cowboy hats, and looks that don’t just scream U.S.A but hoot and holler. When I went to the show in Houston, I carried a paisley-embossed NDG vanity bag (red), and wore a cropped HommeGirls tank (white) with denim 3x1 x Air Force 1 Nikes (blue). In the days since the concert, a number of friends, family, and colleagues have asked me about it—mostly inquiring about the set list and the car prop malfunction. What I inevitably discuss first, though, are the clothes. They’re mesmerizing in their detail and design, but also worn with a sense of confidence and joy that, while understandably hard for many to relate to, conveys an optimism that we’ll eventually overcome the atrocities we’re witnessing and experiencing now. One can only hope.
