A chance encounter while riding the tube in 1988 transformed the trajectory of a young Ghanaian immigrant to Britain. Scouted as a model, Edward Enninful was swiftly pulled into the capital's electric 1990s artistic milieu, evolving from model to stylist and, while still a teenager, becoming the fashion director of the iconic i-D.
"That era was the peak of the YBA movement – Jay Jopling, Tracey Emin. I met Kate Moss at a casting," he recalls. "Then Naomi Campbell for a cover, and I knew we’d be close. We all mixed across disciplines. Friday became Saturday into Sunday. I miss that energy."
Although Enninful appears nostalgic, he is not the only one. Recently, a longing look back of the 1990s has reached fever pitch. Yet over the last thirty years, Enninful feels a noticeable regression. "I believe, we’re less accepting now than we were in the 90s," he observes. "It’s not even this country – it’s a global phenomenon."
This change is difficult to overlook: the rise of far-right politics, the backlash against progressive values, and the return of narrow beauty standards. In place of the optimism of the late 90s, currently a more divisive political force looms as a possible leader. Even, the Union Jack, once an emblem of Cool Britannia, has returned as a polarising symbol.
In Enninful's view, the antidote has consistently been to celebrate culture in all its diversity. This was the driving force behind his seminal issue as editor of British Vogue in 2017, which served as a snapshot of modern Britain, including a broad spectrum of influential figures from politics.
"Those in a position of influence should use it," he asserts, referring to those editorial decisions. "Everyone talks about immigration; I would not be in this position if Britain hadn't been a lenient country, if it did not offer my family a home and an education. That’s the Britain I believed in. I hope this period will end."
He finds hope in the younger generation: "They’re much more aware than we were. They analyse systemic issues – I was not even aware what that was."
His formative years would shape a trailblazing career marked by fearlessness and representation. Enninful set a precedent as the first man, first Black editor, first gay man, and first disabled Black gay man to lead at British Vogue. His time featured historic front pages showcasing models of colour, curvy models, older individuals, and people from all walks of life. Importantly, sales increased.
"When you ignore vast segments of the population, it’s not just that you’re failing to represent – it’s bad for business," he explains.
He has recently launched his new venture EE72 and its flagship publication, 72, his premier initiative since departing his previous role. He says he wants to continue being a "change-maker".
"I’ve always questioned the conventional wisdom. I was brought up in a place where everybody was black – the physicians, the lawyers, the president. Then we came to England, penniless, and I was a minority. I was incredibly timid. My teachers said I’d achieve nothing. Me and my brothers were subject to police stops the suspicion laws … those experiences gave me a dual identity both an insider and outsider."
Contrary to the popular image of industry figures as brash and temperamental, Enninful is softly spoken and projects peace. His path has involved adversity, including openly discussed periods of depression and substance use.
He has also undergone significant health issues, having undergone several surgeries on his eyes, resulting in partial sight. "I experienced such a difficult period for two years, not working, anxious I was going to lose my sight. It’s like PTSD; you just live in fear 24/7. I prayed, if this ever ends, I’m just going to do everything that I was so fearful to do. I’m not going to confine myself to just being an editor or a figure in fashion."
This drive to be typecast has inspired him away from the industry that built his career. He is now curating a significant 1990s exhibition at Tate Britain, featuring work by a roster of defining artists and photographers from the era. The show, he explains, aims to evoke the decade's creative cross-pollination – and highlight those who did not receive due recognition at the time.
"Institutions often failed to celebrate the right artists because they weren't of the right pedigree," he observes.
This venture itself functions with a different strategy, eschewing traditional advertising in favour of partnership-based projects. "Our approach is, what can we create collaboratively? Is it an experience, a series? The magazine is part of a greater ecosystem."
Today, Enninful is regarded as one of the world's most influential creative power brokers. His path, he states, is a demonstration to the power of following your instincts.
What would the Enninful of that era make of the man he has become? He laughs heartily. "He would be astonished, but he’d be proud. In those days I was sceptical of institutions. I would not have believed institutions like Tate were a place for someone like me."
He pauses. "Gratitude is key. We were displaced, we fled our country. I came close to losing my vision. So there is no room for fear. People have counted me out my entire life. But nothing can stop me once I’ve made up my mind to do something."