A serendipitous meeting on the London Underground in 1988 altered the path of a teenage Ghanaian newcomer to Britain. Spotted by a talent scout, Edward Enninful was quickly drawn into the city's buzzing 1990s cultural landscape, moving from mannequin to stylist and, by the age of 18, becoming the fashion director of the publication i-D.
"That time was the zenith of the Britart scene – Jay Jopling, Tracey Emin. I met Kate Moss at a casting," he remembers. "Then Naomi Campbell for a cover, and I knew we’d be close. We all socialised across disciplines. Friday became Saturday into Sunday. I miss that spontaneity."
If Enninful sounds nostalgic, he is not the only one. Recently, a longing look back of the 1990s has reached fever pitch. Yet since that time, Enninful feels a significant change. "I believe, we’re less accepting now than we were in the 90s," he says. "The issue extends beyond this country – it’s everywhere."
This change is increasingly evident: the resurgence of populist movements, the backlash against progressive values, and the reinforcement of Eurocentric beauty standards. In place of the optimism of the late 90s, today a more divisive political personality looms as a possible leader. Furthermore, the British flag, once an emblem of Cool Britannia, has returned as a polarising symbol.
For Enninful, the antidote has consistently been to celebrate culture in all its multifaceted forms. This was the driving force behind his first issue as editor of British Vogue in 2017, which served as a celebration of modern Britain, featuring a diverse array of prominent faces from music.
"Those in a position of influence should employ it," he comments, explaining those publishing choices. "Everyone talks about immigration; I would not be in this position if Britain were not a open country, if it hadn't given my family a home and an education. That’s the Britain I always loved. I trust this phase will end."
He draws solace in the younger generation: "They’re much more aware than we were. They talk about unconscious bias – I had no concept what that was."
His formative years would define a groundbreaking career built on boldness and representation. Enninful broke barriers as the first man, first Black editor, first openly gay person, and first disabled gay man of colour to take the helm at British Vogue. His time featured diverse covers showcasing Black models, plus-sized women, older individuals, and individuals from all walks of life. Importantly, sales grew.
"When you ignore large portions of the population, it’s not just that you’re excluding people – it’s bad for business," he explains.
He has established his creative company EE72 and its flagship publication, 72, his key endeavour since departing his previous role. He states his aim to continue being a "change-maker".
"I’ve always questioned the status quo. I was born and raised in a place where Black professionals were the norm – the physicians, the lawyers, the leader. Then we arrived in England, penniless, and I became the 'other'. I was very shy. My teachers declared I’d achieve nothing. Me and my brothers were stopped by the police the suspicion laws … this duality gave me a sense of being between worlds."
In contrast to the stereotype of industry figures as brash and temperamental, Enninful is softly spoken and radiates serenity. His journey has not been immune to adversity, including publicly shared struggles with depression and substance use.
He has also endured serious health challenges, having had multiple operations on his eyes, resulting in limited vision. "I experienced such a dark place for two years, away from work, terrified I was going to go blind. It’s comparable to PTSD; you just exist in a state of dread 24/7. I thought, if this ever is over, I’m just going to do everything that I was so fearful to do. I’m not going to restrict myself to just being an editor or a fashion person."
This drive to be defined narrowly has propelled him beyond the realm that established him. He is now curating a major 1990s exhibition at Tate Britain, featuring work by a roster of pivotal artists and photographers from the era. The show, he notes, aims to explore the decade's interdisciplinary energy – and highlight those who lacked a spotlight at the time.
"Galleries often failed to shine a light on the truly innovative creators because they weren't of the right pedigree," he observes.
This project itself uses a novel approach, forgoing traditional advertising in favour of creative collaborations. "We ask, what can we do together? Is it an event, a series? The magazine is one component of a broader vision."
Today, Enninful operates as one of the world's most influential creative power brokers. His journey, he states, is a testament to the power of pursuing your passions.
What would the Edward of the 90s make of the Edward of today? He smiles. "It would be a surprise, but he’d be pleased. Back then I was a rebel. I didn't think institutions like Tate were a place for someone like me."
He pauses. "I never take anything for granted. We lost our home, we left our homeland. I came close to losing my vision. So there is no room for fear. People have underestimated me my entire life. But nothing can stop me once I’ve made up my mind to do something."
Lena Hartwell is a former statistician and lottery enthusiast who now writes about probability and smart play strategies.