Black has been produced and used since ancient Egypt, though it was not commonly worn due to the hot climate. When it was, it was often for symbolic meaning — seriously, black in summer is bad enough, let alone black in the desert. It was, however, more commonly used in wigs and kohl than clothing. The colour was sometimes worn in rituals due to its connections to Osiris, lord of the underworld, and its symbolisation of the fertile black soil left on the banks of the Nile after flooding.

Black clothing was uncommon before the Middle Ages, as the dyeing process to produce deep, dark shades of black had not yet been developed. Good-quality black dyes weren’t available until the middle of the 14th century; in fact, most common early dyes were made from bark, roots, or fruits of different trees. These produced blacks that were more grey, brown, or bluish — so, like the rest of my wardrobe, then.

Most people in the Middle Ages were restricted from wearing black or bright colours by sumptuary laws, which decreed that vibrant colours or sable fur (one of the few true black textiles at the time) were reserved strictly for nobles. Wealthy non-nobility championed the production of vibrant black dyes, eventually allowing for wider access to the colour. However, at this point, it was still reserved for the wealthiest members of society, due to the difficulty of producing it from only natural materials. The process was very time-consuming and required a series of dyes in order to darken the cloth that much. Due to the constantly changing sumptuary laws, black became the colour for merchants after 1300, and as more successful merchants continued to embellish their own clothing with increasingly precious materials, black grew more popular and desirable, its popularity continuing to fluctuate over the years.

Aniline black is the first synthetic black dye. It was first observed in 1834 by German chemist F. Ferdinand Runge. John Lightfoot then patented his method to form aniline black in situ. Whilst I have a soft spot for organic chemistry, I am aware that my fondness is not a particularly … popular one, to say the least. So let’s just say chemistry STUFF happens and poof — we have a vibrant black that is lightfast and wash-resistant. However, using aniline black tended to weaken the fabric fibres, and it was eventually replaced in favour of safer sulphur and azo blacks. Never thought I’d use sulphur and safe in the same sentence. Also, I would like it to be known that my app really didn’t like the ‘f’ and kept leaving red lines under it, so ‘ph’ it is. And so black becomes available to all us plebs — unless you’re a lord or lady reading this … then, with all due respect, please continue.

On December 14th, 1861, Prince Albert died, and Queen Victoria wore black to mourn her husband, and continued to do so until her own death. Thus Victorian-era mourning rituals were cemented, as widows across England followed her lead. First the white wedding dress tradition, and now the black mourning attire — who knew Viccy was such a fashion IT girl. I guess she does have a tube line named after her, not sure if that’s better or a Dior bag. Important to note that I am primarily referring to Western traditions; different cultures have their own mourning rituals and colours.

Charles Baudelaire, from his 1846 essay ‘On the Heroism of Modern Life’, offers a different concept — he described how a modern man’s black suit is the uniform of a society in perpetual mourning. It symbolises the collective loss for a heroic epic past — for a dead world. Yet at the same time, he asserts that the black suit is a perfect symbol of modernity, as black is both eternal (a symbol of death) and transient (a specific historical fashion). Maybe this is the 19th-century French man equivalent of girls who mourn the loss of Tumblr at its peak in 2014.

From here we jump forward to October 1926, still in France regrettably, to a little someone called Coco Chanel. Not sure if you’ve heard of her before. She’s oh so very niche. Chanel releases the design for her iconic little black dress, made of jersey, which was rather uncommon for the time. This quickly became the sign of the modern woman, transforming a colour mostly associated with mourning into a chic and elegant option for day and evening wear. She was quite brilliant in her own right.

Shame about the whole … you know, Nazi thing.

The little black dress continued to boom in popularity with Hollywood starlets rocking the look on the silver screens in the 1950s and ’60s. Hubert de Givenchy’s rendition, seen on Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, solidified its cult status in fashion — with the added bonus of providing a fan-favourite Halloween costume for years to come.

Cristóbal Balenciaga chose to focus on the colour black, allowing him to emphasise shape, volume, and construction. In the late 1960s, Balenciaga’s experiments with structure, line, and proportion led him to reimagine the feminine form into ever more geometrical and abstract shapes — exaggerating silhouettes: the sack dress, the envelope coat, I could go on but for fear of your wandering mind let’s move on. Balenciaga used black as a sculptural device; its ability to absorb light made it ideal for his architectural designs. Black was also a medium through which he showcased his technical mastery, as it was the ‘most difficult colour to work with’, revealing any mistake in cut, seams, or fit.

And as we reach the next decade, the 1970s, we arrive at my personal favourite use of black in fashion. A round of applause, please, for the works of Rei Kawakubo and Yohji Yamamoto. Even from the start, their collections were dominated by black, continuing the legacy of Balenciaga with their experimental silhouettes and artistry. The designs are unisex, classless, and poetic. Look how the tables turn — although now the avant-garde style they pioneered has become almost synonymous with pretentious fashion people on the internet parading around how their taste is so much better than yours. No, that doesn’t sound familiar at all. Their collections also take inspiration from 1970s street fashion and punk and goth subcultures. The use of black in their work brings to the forefront the poetic and literary characteristics, with its ability to isolate the face and the expressions by distorting the body into abstract shapes, thus bringing us back to that old French man and his paintings and his ideas of black in modernity. And so black becomes the colour of intellectuals. Or just anyone who’s slightly alternative on the internet. Or that girl on the street in her model-off-duty outfit (or is she just skinny … that’s a discussion for another day). Or just the lazy couch-potato vampire that’s allergic to colour.

In the second half of the 20th century, black continues to gain traction as it becomes a key staple in youth subcultures — rockers, punks, goths all adopting the colour for its subversive and anti-establishmentarian glory. This is further amplified as the fabrics of choice shift to leather, as well as vinyl and PVC — textiles long associated with sex work, used to challenge society and subvert traditional notions of acceptable wear. Think Nancy from The Craft as our poster girl with her shiny vinyl black trench. Black becomes, and to this day remains, a symbol of counter-culture rebellion.

And some things just don’t budge. In the words of Nana Osaki:

Vivienne Westwood, the Sex Pistols, Seven Stars, coffee with milk and strawberry cake. And Ren flowers. Nana’s favorite things never change. Read less