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I t all started with an invitation to the Blackbox – the ideas workshop of Häfele, an internationally
operating company specialising in fittings technology and electronic locking systems. Located in
Stuttgart, this venue is – as the name suggests – completely black. That evening, the expanded new
edition of Cordula Rau’s book Why Do Architects Wear Black? was to be presented here, and I, a
designer from the fashion industry, had been asked to contribute to the theme. But the more I thought
about it, the clearer it became: I couldn’t possibly answer that general question. Black evokes more
associations than any other colour. It has an impact – and contradicts itself. A deep black object reflects
hardly any light; it seems like a void. And what we cannot see unsettles us. Why, then, is black also
seen as refined, minimal, and cool? My response, therefore, was a search for clues – across fashion,
architecture and design. These lines through time, style and attitude are what I call “Cultlines” – not a
concept, more of a mindset: those who design, ask where things come from and why they endure. In
Amsterdam, I often wondered why so many old buildings were painted black. And why this darkness
prevails in old paintings. One clue leads to the 16th century: the Spanish court wore black – a symbol
of gravity and power. Via the Habsburgs, this style reached the Netherlands and courtly splendour gave
way to Calvinist austerity: dark clothing, white collars, sober furniture. The façades looked the same:
painted black, framed in white, sparsely ornamented – graphic understatement. Achieving a deep
black was technically demanding, and only a few dyers succeeded. Those who wore it showed: I can
afford it. The finest wool came from Leiden – the birthplace of artist Rembrandt van Rijn (1606–1669).
After the First World War came a period of upheaval. In 1915, painter Kazimir Malevich (1879–1935),
a leading figure of the Russian avant-garde, painted his first Black Square – no subject, no depth, just Die Ästhetik der 1980er traf den Nerv der Avantgarde. • Avantgarde: the aesthetic of the 1980s
presence. At the Bauhaus, black became part of the system: white walls, dark furniture, sharp contrasts
prevailed. From steel tubing to typography, everything was pared back and functional. Black also
entered everyday life: telephones, cameras and machines came in the dark shade. The Ford Model Haltung statt Glamour – minimalistisches Statement • Attitude over glamour – a statement
T was only available in industrial black. In 1926, Coco Chanel (1883–1971) introduced the Little Black
Dress. Vogue at the time dubbed it “Chanel’s Ford”. The designer herself said: “This simple dress will
become a kind of uniform for all women of taste.” Elegance without luxury. The Second World War
destroyed cities and certainties alike. The post-war period therefore saw not just reconstruction, but
also a search for meaning. A new perspective emerged on the body, clothing and culture. The artistic
focus shifted to New York: Jackson Pollock (1912–1956) created drip paintings, Mark Rothko (1903–1970)
painted monochrome, blurred colour fields, and Pierre Soulages (1919–2022) brought light into his black
paintings. Emotion outweighed motif. Meanwhile, in Paris, existentialism stirred: jazz clubs, roll-neck
jumpers and cigarette smoke. Black became a symbol – intellectual and restrained. Actress Audrey
Hepburn (1929–1993) brought this look to the big screen in Funny Face (1957). American designer Donna
Karan adapted the roll-neck jumper for urban life. Apple CEO Steve Jobs (1955–2011) wore it like a
uniform – created by Japanese designer Issey Miyake (1938–2022). Then, suddenly, protest erupted: in
the late 1960s, the socialist-revolutionary Black Panther Party marched in military style to defend the
African American community against societal oppression. Black jackets, berets and sunglasses were an
expression of confidence and “Black Power”. A decade later, punk emerged in New York and London: Kein Laufsteg-Look, sondern Street Style mit Attitude • Not on the catwalk, but with attitude
torn black clothing, Dr. Martens, DIY instead of couture. The frustration had its roots in a lack of work
and prospects: “No Future” became a statement, anger became a uniform. Two garments, one code:
roll-neck jumper and leather jacket.

Intellectual Black

In the early 1980s, designers such as Rei Kawakubo, Issey Miyake and Yohji Yamamoto introduced
new lines that defied everything fashion had previously stood for: there was no glamour, no emphasis
on the body, no symmetry. Their black was sabotage: against convention and the pleasing. Shaped
by wabi-sabi – the beauty of imperfection – this aesthetic appealed to those avoiding the spotlight:
thinkers, artists, architects. In the 1990s, black became part of a new minimalism. Designs by Helmut
Lang, Jil Sander and Miuccia Prada stood for elegant rigour and functional beauty. In art and architec-
ture especially, this look became a conscious choice: no distractions, no excess. Black suited the white
cube, the office, the stage – a uniform for those who wished to convince through substance. In parallel,
hip-hop culture forged its own style. US band Run-D.M.C. set the tone with black leather jackets, white
Adidas trainers and gold chains. Not understatement, but presence: baggy trousers, basketball jerseys
and “bling-bling” were both statement and belonging. The colour codes: often deep black with snow
white: a contrast – once strict in Amsterdam – now with a new urban charge. Adidas and Nike picked
up these codes and took them global. But the original remained: black as an attitude, white as its echo.
Beneath it all pulsed club culture: house, techno and queerness in Detroit, Chicago and Berlin. Black
became the dress code — not to stand out, but to disappear. So what does black say? Perhaps so much
because it resists definition. Black is never just a colour, but also an expression of power or protest, Illustrationen: Marcel Rijkse, Berlin
protection or presence, elegance or resistance. It does not distract; it leaves room. Its impact lies not
in loudness, but in restraint. I believe architects wear black not because it’s a rule, but because black
dictates nothing – and yet allows for everything. Perhaps because black is never completed. Just like us.

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