Sacha Jenkins’ directorial debut examines fashion in hip hop as a means of freedom of individual expression and aspiration, as well as a mechanism of mass social control. It gives some insight into why a song that incessantly chants “Versace” for four minutes can clock over 12 million views on Vevo, when really (to quote Dr. Kanye West) “you not affording Versace”. None of us are.

Fresh Dressed is an informative, easy-to-watch documentary that shines a light on an integral yet underexposed aspect of hip hop culture: design and fashion. It provides a broad and critical perspective on the relationship between the clothes (more specifically, the menswear) and musical stylings of a global phenomenon.

Jenkins packs a lot into his 82 minutes of run time, opting for narrative breadth over necessary depth. The film is relayed through a series of interviews with prominent designers as well as some of the industry’s most influential tastemakers, including former editor for Vogue André Leon Talley, Damon Dash, Pharrell, and Yeezus himself. Interviews are supplemented with archival materials and colorful animations by Hector Arias.

Designer ‘Dapper Dan’ is credited with birthing the 1980s urban love affair for luxury European brands. Dan sampled, looped, and embellished rolls of high fashion fabric: he “blackenized” the likes of Louis Vutton, Gucci, and Prada. Eventually the Robin Hood of haute couture was served with copyright infringement and shut down for good. However, his artistic vision was immortalized when fashion giants released whole clothing lines almost identical to the custom designs that had been churned out by the Harlem tailor five to 10 years prior. Dan never saw a check though.

Fast forward to the 90s and the explosion of rap into mainstream culture. We learn that the terms “street wear” and “urban fashion” were devised as department store friendly alternatives for a style of clothing originally referred to by white suburban retailers as “gang wear”. The levels of demand generated by breakthrough African American designers Carl Jones of Cross Colours and Karl Kani, in collaboration with an army of hip hop superstars-cum-brand ambassadors (Biggie, Pac, Marky Mark), left high-fashion outlets no choice but to make room on the shop floor to cater to a customer whom they were more accustomed to keeping on the other side of the glass.

Urban wear companies started to crop up everywhere, as did rappers’ vanity brands, and before too long the market was saturated with baggy pants, polar fleeces, and celebrity fragrances. Eventually brand worship tendencies reverted to century-old fashion establishments, all more experienced in the trade of unattainable luxury, exclusivity, and self-hate.

Culture vulture antics conducted by luxury labels are alluded to throughout but they are not the film’s focal point. Although special mention is given to Tommy Hilfiger, whose distribution methods are likened to that of a drug dealer. Hilfiger would drive to the hood with a trunk full of merchandise, offering his target demographic their first hit of potent manufactured self-worth for free in the hopes that they would walk away with a full-blown habit. And it worked. The brand was embraced and freely marketed by the hip hop community at little to no cost to Hilfiger, who walked away a billionaire.

A commerce-drenched narrative of the rise and fall of “for us by us” brands (FUBU, Mecca, Ecko) in the second half strips the film of some of its momentum, as does a lack of discussion pertaining to the role and influence of women in street wear culture. Urban design is referred to as a “man’s game” almost as a justification as to why the female perspective is barely touched on. Yet in 2005, I copped some Adidas sneakers designed by Missy Elliot, which to this day remain my most cherished pair. These set backs aside, Fresh Dressed delivers novel content in an entertaining and accessible fashion.