With more than a new look, Manganyi, 30, encapsulates a new attitude in South Africa. When she launched her label, Stoned Cherrie–1950s slang for a pretty girl–in 2000, it was the country’s first black-owned designer line. To many South African women, Manganyi has become a role model–not just as an innovative fashion designer but as a leader of an emerging generation of black women who are entrepreneurial, optimistic and assertive. She has been likened to a youthful Oprah Winfrey; she and her husband host a talk show that features black success stories.
Such tales are increasingly common. A host of black-owned design houses–including Sun Goddess, Darkie and Machere–have rapidly emerged to compete with Stoned Cherrie. “Manganyi came with the right product at the right time in the right place,” says Kassi Naidoo, creative director of Y, a magazine that tracks Johannesburg’s cultural trends. “Her label is saying, ‘Be your own person but show your roots.’ "
Manganyi calls her style “street couture”–luxurious fabrics tailored to show off the streetwise sass of Johannesburg. Her signature item is a long, A-line skirt, inspired–like much of her clothing–by the 1950s. Manganyi first fell in love with the fashion of the 1950s as a young actress in the 1994 hit musical “Sophiatown,” which featured scenes of that town’s vibrant nightlife. Her performance won her a following; in 1994, Manganyi was awarded the Vita, the country’s highest theater honor.
Transposing her theatrical exuberance to the fashion world was an obvious step. One T shirt in her boutique features a photograph of a couple dancing wildly, the man–wearing a white zoot suit and rakish hat–holding his partner up in the air, her dress swirling. In her small studio, with its view of the well-heeled district of Rosebank, the telephones don’t stop ringing, and her three designers use every available space. Under the tables are bright rolls of West African fabric and seshoeshoe cotton, an intricate floral print that her grandmother’s generation wore to country churches. Her designers sew strips of the material into tight denim corsets, or cut it into short skirts.
Her skirts are popular among South African women–black and white–because they flatter all body types. And Manganyi makes a point of hiring models who aren’t stick-thin. “I’ll never forgive the heroin-chic phase,” she says. She eats what she wants, she says, and for exercise, she dances around with her toddler son, Zenzo, lifting him instead of a dumbbell.
These days, everyone wants a piece of Manganyi. She gets irritable if she fields too many calls asking for “fashion dos and don’ts.” “We can’t be a brand that celebrates freedom, and then be prescriptive about what to wear,” she says. Manganyi hopes to go back to her acting roots, and bring more theater into fashion. For her last big show in December, Stoned Cherrie models grooved along the stage, re-enacting dancehall scenes. “The clothes we make, 1950s-style full-circle skirts, and flared sleeves, require movement to show them off,” she says, describing how dance is perfect for displaying fashion. Not to mention expressing liberation.
