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Malcolm Washington, the rising film director with a keen sense of style, is making waves not only in Hollywood but also in the world of fashion. From Willy Chavarria on the red carpet to an ever-growing collection of classic sneakers for day, the young director has become quite the one to watch—blending the effortless swagger of West Coast workwear with a deep reverence for cultural storytelling. For his directorial debut, The Piano Lesson, Washington reinterprets August Wilson’s iconic play, skillfully navigating themes of legacy, familial bonds, and the enduring power of generational narratives. At its heart, the film is about heirlooms and lineage—and surprisingly enough, those same themes are reflected in how Washington approaches fashion.
Growing up in Hollywood as the child of stylish superstars Denzel (yes, that Denzel) and Pauletta Washington, he’s no stranger to bold style choices. “I’ve always believed that fashion is more than just clothes,” he tells Vogue, reflecting on his childhood influences. “It’s about legacy, culture, and storytelling.” Whether it’s the oversized crew jackets his mother used to wear or the Dickies and Cortez sneakers that nod to his LA roots, Washington’s style is deeply personal and politically charged. It’s a mix of utilitarian ease and high-concept flair that mirrors his identity as both a filmmaker and a man rooted in a rich cultural history. His style could be a tailored Louis Vuitton suit one day, and a simple blazer paired with jeans, a classic white shirt, tie, and a baseball hat the next—very much in the vein of his father’s impeccably cool 90s aesthetic.
Washington stands in a long line of auteurs who have a holistic approach to wardrobing in film while also embodying stellar personal style. (Think: Jean-Luc Godard, Spike Lee, Baz Luhrmann, Sofia Coppola, Luca Guadagnino, and Greta Gerwig.) Just like the visual elements in his films, the clothes are a medium for deeper meaning, representing the characters lives, struggles, and legacies. And, like his characters, he’s not afraid to embrace contradictions—opting for soft, fluid silhouettes that still pack a punch, with a laid-back vibe that’s undeniably sharp.
For the highly anticipated press tour of his first feature film, Washington enlisted the help of stylist Matthew Henson, whom he sought out for his “low-key, tasteful” vibe. Together, the duo curated a masterclass in menswear, blending sartorial elegance, workwear, and conceptual fashion. “Malcolm is one of my favorite people to collaborate with because he’s got incredible personal style, so we just draw from that,” Henson says. “He’s very discerning and knows exactly what he wants.” That included standout looks from Bottega Veneta, Prada, and Gucci, alongside emerging brands like Setchu and MAN-TLE.
Vogue caught up with the director to discuss his fashion influences, his approach to red carpet looks, and the power of visual storytelling through film.
Vogue: Having grown up in the spotlight with a father renowned for his iconic roles and sartorial elegance, and a mother who herself is a style maven, how have their respective influences shaped your perspective on fashion?
Malcolm Washington: A lot! Seeing my mom play with different ideas of gender through her clothing was really cool and influential to me when I was young. My dad, especially as we ve gotten older, has gotten more into a comfortable zone, which I respect. But when you look back at family photos and see a younger version of your parents, you start to imagine what their life was like then and how they used to move. Both of them were involved in such great creative communities, and that was reflected in what they wore. My dad s style was super suave, yet still casual, and the way he put it together was really cool. I’m my family’s archivist—I archive our images and all these things; I’m the one going through closets, pulling out coats. I have old crew jackets that I sometimes wear, finding power and strength in them, connecting to those movements. So, not only have I been influenced by how my parents put pieces together, but also by the power of the legacy of their lives, which I feel like I can tap into with certain garments.
Fashion is deeply intertwined with culture, art, and personal experience. What other external influences—be they cultural, artistic, or philosophical—inform your approach to styling yourself?
I grew up with a strong sense of identity and consciousness, built on a reverence for, and respect toward, the empowering vibe of culture. I understood that I exist within the context of a rich cultural legacy: the Black American experience. What’s so powerful about our culture is its self-referencing nature—everything is connected. If you listen to hip-hop, for example, it constantly samples music from other eras, references past artists, and even reaches beyond music. Movie quotes often serve as interludes, adding another layer to the experience. Frank Ocean, for instance, incorporates Pam Grier references, creating a continuous loop of self-referencing connections. When you think of Spike Lee, an incredible filmmaker, you’re also thinking about his collaborations with Nike, or the iconic 80s and 90s style—Rosie Perez in spandex shorts, bomber jackets, varsity jackets, and more. I find so much inspiration and strength in the culture I come from, and I love how we weave that legacy across different disciplines.
I’ve observed your affinity for somewhat of a utilitarian aesthetic. What aspects of this style resonate with you on both a personal and functional level?
Functionality for sure, because I’m a working man; I m not a movie star, I m a filmmaker. Also, we re a working culture, and I think that that s why I ve been such a fan of what Willy [Chavarria] has been doing, especially with this new stuff tied into these labor movements—this idea of labor and how fashionable that is. I m a west coast LA guy, so I grew up on Dickies and Ben Davis and Cortez; that s in the language that I m using. It s been cool working with Matthew and having an opportunity to keep that identity, but push it a little in another direction—and then play with that and push it further.
How else did growing up in LA influence you stylistically?
Weather is a big factor. We didn’t grow up wearing fur coats, but it does get cold in the mornings and at night, so you re always layering. And also, I grew up in the 90s, which was a very specific period for our city—post-LA uprising, with an explosion of Black consciousness and art. You had shows on UPN at the time, like Hangin with Mr. Cooper, One-on-One, The Fresh Prince, and the post-Cosby Show era of Black media. There were all these different depictions of Black life. It wasn’t just The Cosby Show, where everyone was a doctor and living an idealized life. Instead, you had a more kaleidoscopic take on our culture, and I think that was really influential. You started to see yourself in these characters and navigate between them.
Who would you consider to be your style icons or sartorial heroes, and how have they shaped your own fashion sensibilities?
I grew up watching 80s and ‘90s directors. Now, I’m a director with a movie, and I wanted to dress like my dad, or like Spielberg and George Lucas, those guys. It was a kind of formal casual look, with a blazer, tie, and shirt, where it’s like, "I’m serious, but I’m at work." I love that style.
Tell us more about working with Matthew Henson on The Piano Lesson press tour.
I’ve never worked with a stylist before, so it was super new to me. I knew that with the workload of a tour like this, you want to work with a stylist. I guess the first stylist I ever had was my mom. She’s so stylish and used to always dress in a way that was so unique. She would wear my dad’s crew jackets and was really into that 90s flow, wearing menswear early on. When I talked to Matthew, he actually shared a story about my mom and knew all about her style. We talked about the connection clothes have—wearing your parents’ or family members’ clothes and embodying pieces of them. From that first conversation, I was excited to work with him because he understood and was interested in telling a story beneath everything. I think fashion is this strange thing sometimes where it can be about consumerism or just flossing some brand, but it s also this really potent connection and storytelling vehicle. And I think that was something that Matthew was interested in doing, and I was hyped to learn from him in that regard.
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What was one of your favorite red carpet looks for the press tour?
I really liked the Willy [Chavarria] suit for the LA premiere. I feel like it kind of encapsulated everything together. The shirt buttoned all the way up, the proportions were perfect, and just how it moved was really nice—and comfortable. We re making a film that s part of the legacy of one of our great American playwrights, one of the icons of our field, so you also want to have a certain respect and a certain kind of elevation. I feel like that suit kind of did all the things we’re trying to accomplish. It also conceptually plays into this really wonderful contradiction of masculinity, where it’s tender and sweet, but still strong and utilitarian, with a sense of purpose. And there’s enough ornamentation to make it mean something and feel special.
When working in film, how do you approach the delicate balance between costuming and wardrobe? What role does fashion play in the storytelling process for you?
It s so crucial. It s expressing the person—what they believe, what they do, all of these things; you re characterizing these people by their clothes, and you re also able to tell a story. In [The Piano Lesson], we have this story of legacy, where our main character, Boy Willie, is trying to live up to his father s legacy and make his father s life and death mean something. We personify this in the idea of a hat that his dad has sweat through and broken down. This hat is then passed to his son, and it s too big for him in the beginning, it’s falling off his head. Ultimately, his son fills the hat.
We also have this narrative of the Black American spiritual practice—a combination of West African spiritual traditions and the Black Southern Christian Church tradition. This is told through Bernice s [played by Danielle Deadwyler] wardrobe, where she wears a yellow dress, and that color has its own significance. She ends the film in a white dress, a kind of cleansing, where she s at the piano as an altar, which harkens to the iconography of West African spiritual practices. We re telling that story through the clothes the whole time, you know? Bernice’s clothes also interplay with the wallpaper in the house, as she’s kind of a representative of that house and her ownership of that space. These are visual cues that, hopefully, you’re not consciously thinking about, but you start to feel them over the course of the film. I really enjoy that process of watching it play out.