And, as usual, models of colour were an uncommon sight. At the Jil Sander show, the models were so homogeneous that they were virtual clones: overwhelmingly tall, thin, pale and with hair ranging from platinum blond to honey blond to the occasional warm brunette. There is such a runway tradition of “white preferred” at this house that one wonders whether anyone at Jil Sander has noticed that brown people exist.

Similar whiteouts occurred on the runways of Prada and Marni and Calvin Klein. The explanation for these choices always comes down to aesthetics. The models have been chosen because they fit easily into the samples. Because they have a certain look. Because they do not distract from the clothes.

Sitting along the runway in Europe, one realises the power the fashion industry has in shaping our vision of beauty. A single room contains the image makers: the designer, magazine editors, photographers and stylists whose job it is to tell you how you’ll want to look in six months. They sell fantasy, romance, sex appeal and power.

Beauty — unfairly or not — has its privileges. And by defining which people are beautiful and which people are simply in visible, the fashion industry helps determine how much cultural currency someone has at his or her disposal.

Ever since the demise of the supermodel in the early ’90s, the fashion industry has been stubbornly unwilling to make room for more than one black model per show. Other than the occasional star — Naomi Campbell, Liya Kebede and now Chanel Iman — black women go unrepresented.

So what happens if women of colour are not included in the conversation about beauty and femininity? What happens when those lighthearted stories about how to apply the latest shades in makeup never include examples of ebony skin? Or when the most influential designers say through their aesthetic choices that dark skin is not part of their vision? Audiences applaud and cheer the landmark diversity introduced on television by Ugly Betty and its fictional Mode magazine, but no one is objecting to the lack of diversity at real fashion magazines.

Some of the most enduring cultural images have come from the fashion industry. The black and white pictures of wavy-haired ladies in pumps defined the conservative and formal ’50s. The pictures of Twiggy with stick-straight hair and wearing a miniskirt call to mind the ’60s with their emphasis on youth and the sexual revolution. There is no better shorthand for the 1980s than the image of a woman with her hair teased high and shoulder pads bulking her up to the size of a linebacker.

Some of the most provocative statements about youth, sexuality and aging have been made in the name of fashion — Brooke Shields in her Calvins, Dove’s Real Women campaign. Those images endure in our memory and help us understand the world around us. And when whole groups of people are left out of the picture, our world view is equally diminished.

-Robin Givhan (LAT-WP)