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Iman
A legendary trailblazer for women of color in fashion, IMAN was one of the most sought-after supermodels of the ’80s, who went on to launch her own global cosmetics brand (and marry an equally legendary rock star) in the ’90s. Here, the model turned entrepreneur and philanthropist talks to LYNETTE NYLANDER about the shoot that launched her career, the power of speaking up, and her continued work as an inexhaustible advocate for diversity
Taxi cabs blaring and tourists taking photos – it’s late afternoon in midtown Manhattan when Iman arrives at the Aman hotel. The supermodel, turned entrepreneur and philanthropist, is still as much of a fan of the city as the day she arrived, almost 50 years ago. “I got here in 1976. There is absolutely no place like New York. It’s really stayed true to itself, it’s still a melting pot,” she smiles, as the waiter nestles two generous glasses of rosé on the table.
Dressed in a sleek black blazer and suit pants, Iman is hard to miss, despite her understated outfit. Her signature features – those that have made her one of the most eminent models of all time – of a flawless complexion and chestnut eyes, framed today by silver reading glasses, are utterly exquisite at 68. Around her neck is a ‘David’ necklace that she occasionally threads through her fingers. (It was given to her by Celine artistic director Hedi Slimane as a tribute to her late husband, David Bowie. “They were extremely close,” she says.)
Iman is as energized now as she’s ever been. With her older daughter, Zulekha, all grown up, and her youngest, Alexandria (Lexi), away at art school, Iman has been finding a new perspective. After selling her Soho loft (“It was just me in that big place – I didn’t need all that room”), she recently moved elsewhere in the city. She spends weekends at her country plot in the Catskills and enjoys long walks with her dog. “I really love traveling, but, after Covid, I stopped. I was taking care of my family and really getting Lexi away with her art, and she’s blooming. But now, I am getting back to it. One thing I have learned is that I’m not delaying anything. If I have to do something, I am going to do it,” she says, with an air of defiance.
“I always wanted to control my own DESTINY. I am a big believer that when you leave SOMETHING, you make ROOM for something else to exist”
Born the daughter of a diplomat-ambassador father and a doctor mother in the Somalian city of Mogadishu, Iman describes “a privileged life” growing up. “They were able to afford an education for me and my siblings.” But when revolution happened, “people with positions in the government, like my father, were either being arrested or executed”. Her parents decided to seek refuge in nearby Tanzania, while Iman went to Kenya. “I had never worked in my life, really, and, all of a sudden, I was out here learning to fend for myself.” She ended up at the University of Nairobi, where she started studying political science and getting involved in the movement [towards democracy]. “My parents grew up as activists and I was always around politics, so I just wanted to help move things forward.”
As Iman was able to speak five languages, the ministry of tourism decided to utilize her talents as a translator, which she bookended with work at the New Stanley Hotel to make ends meet. She was content. “I was making money, and some tips, and the university said they’d give me a scholarship for a year – but after that, I was on my own [to pay the tuition fees]. That’s why, when Peter approached me that day, I knew exactly how much I wanted.”
“No one UNDERSTOOD what I was trying to do. ‘Woman of color’ wasn’t EVEN a term. I was trying to do something TRULY multicultural”
The Peter she describes is photographer Peter Beard, who is credited with ‘discovering’ Iman. He approached her, offering her some money for a shoot. “Eight thousand dollars was two years’ tuition… I call it my first fashion-business transaction,” she giggles. She remembers it vividly: “I took a friend because I had no idea what to do. He guided me and knew what he wanted to capture. They were three-quarter-length portraits, no hair, no makeup – they are still some of my favorite photographs.”
Six months later, Beard tracked her down again, this time with Wilhelmina Cooper, the modeling impresario, to offer a proposition: a ticket to New York and the promise that Iman could be a star. “I had never seen a magazine or worn high heels, but I went, under the caveat they would book me a two-way ticket so that I could leave and not be stuck in America… I don’t operate from a place of scarcity. My mother taught me that. I came to America knowing my worth and knowing when to walk away from any friendship or relationship when it’s not serving you.”
As it happened, she was an almost-immediate success. She remembers an early shoot with Arthur Elgort for US Vogue. She sat nervously in the makeup chair and was asked if she had brought her own foundation. She had not, and the results were disastrous. “I looked gray. From then on, I went to Woolworths and would mix foundation and pigments and carried it with me to shoots. Me and a friend would take Polaroids and I would ask myself, how does this look, how does it translate? Even then I knew, like, this is how it was going to be.” Fellow Black models started asking her for the homemade foundation. “It was all those years ago that I got the idea for Iman Cosmetics.”
“There is a POWER in speaking up… And it doesn’t have to be when you are VISIBLE. Even if you aren’t necessarily in a position of power, you have a SAY about things”
A bona fide supermodel by the early ’80s, Iman briefly dabbled in movies – “Oh, that just came to me, I never pursued it” – before leaving the runways in 1989. Her archive of Alaïa one-offs and Mugler outfits, gifted to her by the designers themselves, remain in storage. “Lexi doesn’t wear them – she’s more into thrifting,” she laughs.
The time was right to step away. “I always wanted to control my own destiny,” she says. “I am a big believer that when you leave something, you make room for something else to exist.”
The next year, she met her husband, David. “It’s funny, because I had gone to many of his shows in the past and had always gotten the offer to go backstage but just never did.” Set up on a blind date by hairstylist Teddy Antolin, Bowie said in interviews that “it was love at first sight”. They wed in 1992, embarking on a marriage that lasted almost 25 years, until Bowie’s death in 2016. “He was actually the one who gave me the confidence to do Iman Cosmetics,” she tells me. “He asked, ‘What are you scared of?’ I didn’t know if I could do it and [was worried] about failing. He said, ‘What if it fails?’ He was convinced I was going to regret not doing it.” Making the blueprint of modern makeup lines, her cosmetics broke boundaries when they launched in 1994, catering exclusively to women of color.
“No one understood what I was trying to do. ‘Woman of color’ wasn’t even a term. I was trying to do something truly multicultural.” She found solidarity, though: Lauryn Hill and Queen Latifah, at the height of their fame, shouted out Iman Cosmetics. She says this solidarity was mirrored during the uprising of 2020. “Black Lives Matter emboldened us. We supported each other and big business felt it… they couldn’t get away with ignoring us anymore.”
An advocate for diversity throughout her career, Iman led for change for Black models with her friends Bethann Hardison and Naomi Campbell by forming The Diversity Coalition in 2013, off the back of a damning New York Times article about the regression of Black models on the runway. “There is a power in speaking up,” she reflects. “Talk is cheap, but who shows up? Who’s going to stand up and say, ‘I’m gonna be right with you when you’re protesting’? That’s the importance of everything that has happened. And it doesn’t have to be when you are visible. Even if you aren’t necessarily in a position of power, you have a say about things.”
Iman is cognizant that her wealth and influence doesn’t shield her from the everyday racism that Black people face in America. “I was in LA and I mistook a white man for an employee at the pharmacy. He started berating and screaming at me and wouldn’t stop. I was scared to go back to my car. I thought to myself: ‘I traveled around the US with a girlfriend on a road trip in the ’70s, lived in New York during the Aids crisis, and at this stage in my life, I am afraid’,” she says, shaking her head. “I think about the future. For my daughters, my granddaughter. We have homosexuality being outlawed in Uganda, the reversing of Roe Vs. Wade, and soon, it will be the pill. I always say not to forget history, because it has a way of repeating itself.”
Still, Iman remains hopeful and determined to make a difference, particularly for the causes she supports. She is CARE’s first global advocate, supporting the anti-poverty and humanitarian organization’s community efforts for better education, healthcare and economic opportunity for all. She finds optimism in looking forward. I press, softly, about a possible return to the runway – citing models such as Linda Evangelista, Pat Cleveland and Naomi Campbell as women who continue to model in their fifties and beyond – but Iman remains adamant. “I’ve never been good at doing three or four things at once. I’ve worked with all the designers, but I haven’t been to a fashion show since 1989. I don’t want to go back, I want to go forward.” She has been buoyed by the meaningful friendship she found in the fashion industry, though. “Bethann has been my best friend since the ’70s, when I moved to New York. Edward [Enninful, of Vogue] and his husband rang me every day after David’s passing. These are my true friends in the industry. I don’t forget that.”
So, what does the future look like? Alongside her philanthropic endeavors and business ventures, Iman frequently posts positive affirmations of strength and resilience on her Instagram feed. “I am waiting for my next step, but I know I want to do more.” I can’t help but commend her quiet confidence, her assuredness that, despite the ups and downs, there are good things to come. “As long as I do the work, fun will be part of the work. I believe [I need to] just let it go and be open to things that are meant for me. To step into my light.”