TED Talks Daily - The 6 eras of NBA fashion — from restrained to radical | Mitchell S. Jackson

Episode Date: March 19, 2026

What are you wearing, and why? This is the question that writer and TED Fellow Mitchell S. Jackson asks as he unpacks the six eras of NBA style. Tracing an arc from Bill Russell to Lebron James and beyond, he explores how players use fashion on and off the court to challenge the limits placed upon them — revealing a deeper story about culture, identity and power.Learn more about our flagship conference happening this April at attend.ted.com/podcast Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

You're listening to TED Talks Daily, where we bring you new ideas to spark your curiosity every day. I'm your host, Elise Hugh. What can suits, sneakers, and even the way one walks through a tunnel onto the basketball court, tell us about history? The story of NBA fashion is a story of black people dating back to the 1940s, which is also to say, it's the history of America. That was writer and Ted fellow Mitchell S. Jackson. In his talk, he explores how. how the fashion of NBA players, from pioneers like Bill Russell to cultural icons like Michael Jordan and Alan Iverson tells a much bigger story of U.S. history than you might think, and how clothing can be a powerful reflection of identity and resistance.

Kobe's cosmopolitan sensibilities challenged biases about the breadth of black men's cultural influences. LeBron wearing the last words of Eric Garner empowered a new generation of athletes to broadcast their politics. This is indeed a story about love and basketball, culture, and the ways that style can be worth a thousand words. That's coming up right after a short break. And now our TED Talk of the Day. Serious two-part question for you.

What are you wearing? And why? Well, I hope none of you are decked in an outfit against your will. I happen to think our fashion choices should be deeper than just because we like something. Who am I? I'm a long-ago hooper. That jumper was wet, too.

Lifelong basketball fan and long-inspiring fashionisto. But most importantly, I wrote the book on NBA fashion, literally. A project that taught me that the story of NBA fashion is a story of black people dating back to the 1940s, which is also to say it's the history of America. And I plan to show you how players' fashion choices have been both a reflection of the times

and a catalyst for changing them. And furthermore, how, for those who think these times are indeed troubling, they serve as a model for styling ourselves into resistance. The NBA was founded in 1946. There aren't many off-the-court photos of its first fashion era, but the ones that exist show men who adhered to the status quo, dressed influenced by the conservation mandates of World War II. It's important to note that early NBA fashion

extends from pre-civil rights into the heart of the movement. The first black player was drafted in 1950, and those pioneers were also de facto ambassadors of the best of their race. Hence, many of them dressed like men who were set on proving their dignity. Know this. Bob Coosie's civil rights were never in question. Real talk, Bill Russell's smile was a requisite for a respectable black man.

Yeah, Will got spicy later, but in the 50s, he conformed like everybody else. The second error is shaped by the Civil Rights Act. the black power movement in the war in Vietnam, plus the huge popularity of soul music and the birth of black exploitation films. By the 1970s, 75% of the league's players were black, and those black players and some of the white ones began dressing like young men

who were claiming their hard-fought freedom to loosen or dash their ties and assert themselves as individuals. You can see it in there. planetary aphros, in their kentie cloth and dashikis, and their hippie digs or flashy jewelry. If you ask me, Clyde Frazier's cape is a flamboyant symbol of freedom.

Here's Bill Walton dressing his then radical politics. And look, Dr. Jay could have been a black exploitation action star with his earthly afro in edgy fashion. The NBA paid its first million dollar per season, in 1979-80. The following year, Reaganomics became law. A few years later, Michael Jeffrey Jordan entered the league, and in time became the most famous person on earth. Jordan once said that Republicans buy sneakers too, and though he since claimed his comment was ingest,

it's apparent a politicalness was a defining feature of his eponymous third era. As were the excesses born of America's booming economy and the lingering illusion that Nixon's black capitalism initiative was a net positive for black folks. Jordan was braged on southern black respectability and wore suits, but he also customized him joints with an icon's flare. Look, little says Nouveau Ries like magic wearing a fur in the 1980s. Yeah. Maybe his billionaire status now was what Nixon meant by black economic equality.

Jordan's suit proportions. My God. Aren't they 90s extravagance? Yeah. Dennis Rodman was the iconoclass of the Jordan era with style that bridged him to a liberated white world. Hip hop becoming the most dominant force in youth culture sets the fourth era in motion. In a short span, several rappers reached Diamond Sales, and Outcast and Lauren Hill won Grammys for album of the year.

Around that same time, Alan Ezel Iverson became the poster child for hip-hop's influence on the NBA, not just his style, but his irreverence and a plum. However, the racist idea of thugs pervading hip-hop colored the perception of players following A-I-Iraveh. I's lead. And that infamous brawl known as the malice at the palace, well, it didn't help matters. In fact, it spurred the NBA dress code, i.e., a new way to restrict black men's freedom of expression. Hip-hop is over the top, no doubt, which in AI's case meant bling you could see from the nosebleeds in a lollipop to stress insoucence. D. Wade's get-up reminds us that posturing, tough as part of hip-hop's DNA. Tell me this. Does Jermaine O'Neill's goddy jewelry challenge the stereotype

of the black male thug? While it was shaped by President Obama's first term, David Stern instituting the NBA dress code defined the fifth era. Commissioner Stern's rules force players to eschew their beloved hip-hop gear in favor of more conservative attire, restrictions that push them to become more experimental with their style. Before long, the world that excluded black men for ages began offering them prime seats at fashion shows and coveted tickets to the Met Gala. Like the black dandies of your players

of the dress code era turned structural limitations into a showcase of their boldness and creativity. Kobe's cosmopolitan sensibilities challenged biases about the breath, of black men's cultural influences. Mary Stenemeyer's fit insists that we take his style acumen seriously. Ah, here's mellow, foraging a place for black men at fashion's biggest night, the Met Gala. LeBron wearing the last words of Eric Garner empowered a new generation of athletes to broadcast

their politics. Instagram crossing 1 billion users in 2018 marked the same. Sixth era. Much thanks to LeBron and D. Wade and Chris Bosch. Remember them, Heedles? The app helped transform the few minutes between a player's arena arrival in the locker room into an unscripted space of expression. It also helped turn several players, including some bench dudes like PJ Tucker into cultural figures who were just as big, if not bigger, in the fashion world than in the world of sports. Not to mention, some players use their expanded platforms to push for social change. Westbrook has made a great case as his era's foremost iconoclass.

LeBron, he dressed his calves in Tom Brown for a playoff tunnel walk, a viral moment that accrued the whole damn league fashion cachet. Hip-hop is born as rebellion, and John Morin's Diamond-encrusted grill is a throwback to that defiance. But where are we now? Well, I don't know about you, but what I see is the government decimating civil rights, assaulting freedom of speech, erasing the history of marginalized groups,

targeting immigrants. How will this broad oppression shape a league in which black players are still the largest share and the foreign-born players are some of its biggest stars. In every era, NBA players, the black ones in particular, have used fashion to challenge forces casting them as less deserving of their human rights and their dignity. And there's a model in that for all of us, right?

Which is also to ask, what's our relationship to power? and not just because we like it, because we want to resist, what are we wearing tomorrow? I mean, we, as in you and me, as in all of us. Thank you. That was Mitchell S. Jackson at TED Next 2025.

And just to note, in this talk, Mitchell shares a lot of imagery. So if you are able, I'd also recommend going to watch the video on TED.com. If you're curious about TED's curation, find out more at TED.com slash curation guidelines. And that's it for today. TED Talks Daily is part of the TED Audio Collective. This talk was back-checked by the TED Research Team and produced and edited by our team,

Martha Estefanos, Oliver Friedman, Brian Green, Lucy Little, and Tonicaa Sung Marnivong. This episode was mixed by Lucy Little. Additional support from Emma Tobner and Daniela Ballerza. I'm Elise Hu. I'll be back tomorrow with a fresh idea for your feet. Thanks for listening.