Rebecca Ayoko: The Timeless Muse
From Abidjan to Paris: The Naïfs Magazine Cover Story That Explores The Modelling World Of The 70s and 80s Through The Eyes Of Yves Saint Laurent Muse Rebecca Ayoko
In November 2023, I wrote a story about Pierpaolo Piccioli congratulating himself on a podcast about casting a majorly Black catwalk for his 2019 Haute Couture Collection, with quite a confused reason behind it. Blackness in fashion is always American-centric, even in Paris. The first reference is the 1973 Battle of Versailles, where American designers and the crème de la crème of Parisian designers gathered to create a fashion show to collect funds to renovate the Versailles castle. But because of History and fashion, we all love some good rivalry. What was essentially a fundraising show became a battle between American and French fashion, where the former won because the Black models that walked it added personality to the clothes, unlike the models walking for French finest maisons. The second reference is Haitian-American fashion designer Kerby Jean-Raymond, having all the press talking about him being a Paris Haute Couture guest (but if you research, you’ll find Patrick Kelly was the first African-American to get in and not as a guest), even when before him there were Nigerien Alphadi, Cameroonian Imane Ayissi,and Moroccan Nourredine Amir. All Africans. Be it behind or on the catwalks; it always seems like the fashion media never “gives credit where it is due” - an expression that is the red thread and title of Naïfs Magazine's third edition.
That is why the story below is one I am most proud of. It highlights one of the first African models to grace the Parisian catwalks before Naomi Campbell. So stay tuned for a story about becoming a model and making it like you have never read.
If her name was unknown to me, her face was not. When I typed Rebecca Ayoko on Google, I saw photos of her shows for the big names in Parisian fashion - not that I suddenly felt nervous or anything. I was simply going to meet a muse whose face and graceful silhouette I had printed in my memory as a Franco-Cameroonian teenager looking for models to identify with. Growing up in France in the ‘90s and 2000s meant not having any, yet there was a golden age for Black models in Paris. And this is the period that Rebecca Ayoko brought back to life through our interview.
In 2020, I had the great opportunity to interview Marcellas Reynolds, former model and author of Supreme Models: Iconic Black Women Who Revolutionized Fashion. With this book, the retrained columnist and stylist undertook to pay a unique tribute to the Black models and women who broke the code of a fashion industry that did not consider or desire them simply because of their skin. He told me passionately how they were able to resist thanks to their tenacity, which allowed them to impose themselves and make history. When browsing the pages of Supreme Models, a name first catches my attention: Mounia Orosemane. Born in Martinique, this muse of Yves Saint Laurent has worked for other big names in fashion, such as Gianni Versace, Thierry Mugler, and Karl Lagerfeld. However, as Marcellas Reynolds writes, “By becoming one of the most coveted models in the world, Mounia has ruled the catwalks of Parisian Haute Couture for decades. Although she worked for important designers during her career, it was her relationship as a model and muse of Yves Saint Laurent that turned her into a star.” So, yes, there was a time when Black models reigned in Parisian Haute Couture shows. And it was Yves Saint Laurent who paved the way for them. While Mounia Orosemane remains an icon, Rebecca Ayoko is a podium star who deserves to be recognized as one of the first African women ever to sign a contract with the Maison Saint Laurent. And just for that, she’s a “Supreme Model.”
The first time I heard Rebecca Ayoko’s voice, I was surprised. Her suave and serene timbre is ideal for storytelling. That’s why when we met at Place Victor Hugo in Paris, it was impossible for me not to be all ears. And that’s how she immediately transported me in the meanders of her memory. “I never said I was born in Togo, although on my papers it says ‘born in Togo.’ In fact, I was born in Ghana to Togolese parents… Ghana, Togo - we are practically the same people.” To clarify this last sentence, she adds, “After the war between France and Germany, new borders were drawn, and part of the former territory of Togo passed to Ghana.” The demarcation of borders due to decolonization did not reflect those established before colonization. Rebecca Ayoko recalls that for traditional ceremonies, people who were now Ghanaians had to go to Eglidji, a small village north of Aného. It is also the former capital of Togo in the southeast of the country on the border with Benin. Born during the decolonization process that began in the late 1950s, the future model grew up during an unprecedented time for the continent. This is why when I ask her how she defines her identity, she answers me with these words: “So, to summarize, I am Ghanaian-Togolese. I am African — West African; I wouldn’t even say because I also grew up in Ivory Coast and Gabon. I’ll let you define me [laughs].” As I listen to her put her story into context, I realize how necessary and useful these conversations are for a diaspora child like me. The small details she tells me allow me to fill the gaping holes in history with a big H. In my eyes, she is no longer just a model but a witness of an era. And it is precisely because she was in the right place at the right time that the story of Rebecca Ayoko deserves special mention.
Rebecca Ayoko’s career began in the Ivory Coast. The 70s were also a period of full effervescence for African creators such as Burkina Faso’s Pathé’O and Saint Joe, who both settled in the Treichville district in Abidjan. More recently, Pathé’O collaborated on Dior’s 2020 cruise collection. Pathé Ouédraogo — his real name — is a monument in African fashion and a great promoter of Made in Africa. He’s known for having dressed former South African President Nelson Mandela. Joseph Ilboudo, known as “Saint Joe,” is another talented creator officiating in the shadows but who nevertheless remains coveted by a clientele ranging from political personalities to figures in the entertainment industry whom he dresses to measure. It is in this context that a young Rebecca Ayoko walks for the first time by the pool of the Ivory Coast Hotel of Abidjan for a French designer then installed in Ivory Coast for years. Her career as a model in Africa intrigues me because it is a facet and an era of fashion in Africa that is very little reported. So I hastened to ask her what being a model in the Ivory Coast in the 70s meant. Before answering my question, she says, “I’ve done a lot of advertising for Kodak, Ivorio drinks, and Solibra Beer.” Ivorio and Solibra are two sure values in Ivory Coast, so being the face of these brands is a guarantee of certain notoriety. It is important to specify that before her career in Paris, the young Rebecca had success on the continent because she was elected Miss Côte d’Ivoire in addition to her work as a model. This success allowed her financial independence, and that was how she humbly boasted an apartment in Zone 4 — the European district of Abidjan. When she finished answering my question, I was dumbfounded because, once again, these are details missing in the narrative of Africa and its fashion industry. The idea that a model between the 70s and 80s — in Africa — can be well paid and have a well-established career, allowing her to live well, seems to light years from our conception of thought where everything is done in Paris.
However, she had to start from scratch when she arrived in Paris. Her visit to France was encouraged by Mr. Garou, one of the organizers of Miss Ivory Coast, who noticed her potential. He created a pot to pay for a plane ticket. Rebecca Ayoko met several patrons during her career, and Mr. Garou was one of them. She recalls preparing for her new life in the French fashion capital, “there was a whole gathering to help me. First for the ticket, and then I set a little money aside because the cost of living in France was not that of Ivory Coast; two days of spending in Paris was a month’s salary in Abidjan.” In addition to the high standard of living, the model explains, “The 1980s were a difficult but beautiful time. There weren’t many models, but they opened all the doors for you when you were accepted. That’s what happened to me.” But before talking about the man who made her an icon, Rebecca Ayoko continues, “When I started, there were Black Americans and Caribbean women, but there were no Black African women. I am the first African woman to sign a contract. Some must have walked, wore an outfit, and left. In my case, I signed a multi-year contract with a luxury house.” And by any means, the future muse was signed to the same house that opened its doors to Mounia Orosemane and later to Guinean model Katoucha Niane, thanks to an introduction from Rebecca Ayoko.
The former walked for the biggest names in Parisian fashion, such as Balmain, Christian Dior, and Guy Laroche. However, like Mounia Orosemane, it was by walking for Saint Laurent that she got the consecration and that other renowned brands unrolled the red carpet for her. Although written from an American perspective, Marcellas Reynolds’ book can boast of having created one of the few anthologies on Black women who have paved the way and continue to carve the path for their peers on the catwalks. The author's first words in his introduction strike because they immediately put in context that “Growing Black in the United States was constantly being reminded that in the eyes of some we were worthless.” Curiously, these words could also be applied to France, a country home to one of the most prominent capitals of Western fashion but still struggling to face its slave and colonial past. History remembers France as the nation of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen and as the country that welcomed Josephine Baker, the Frenchest Black American, with open arms. And yet, already in 1976, African-American writer and essayist James Baldwin, in an interview in French for Sillages, said: “It was you here [in Europe] who started this idea; the idea of white supremacy was not born here '[in the United States], but there [in Europe].” This fact has been so deliberately buried in French collective memory that today, it is difficult to imagine that, like in the United States, race is one of the foundations of French society. And fashion is a reflection of the latter, so it is not immune to racial dynamics.
The influence of Saint Laurent in Paris is undeniable because, as Rebecca Ayoko points out, “He contributed to the heritage of haute couture. In fact, when we say haute couture, we don’t use English. We use French. And Yves Saint Laurent embodied this idea.” She tells with candour this sunny June day when she was chosen by Yves Saint Laurent himself: “The selection took place in June because we were walking in July. The models were the source of inspiration for the Saint Laurent collections, so all the Parisian agencies sent us here. There were a lot of us. The press secretary and the maître de cabine made the first selection, then the second and then a final one where it was the master, the couturier, who had the last word.” During the first audition, Rebecca first walked in a short dress because “you have to see the legs, the shoulders, the gait and the posture.” When Yves Saint Laurent asks that she walks in a long dress, one of his many assistants smiles because it is the sign that the master approves of you. The 80s were a period during which the relations between models and fashion designers were very close because the “casting director” role had not yet been consolidated. In fact, it was non-existent. On the website dedicated to Yves Saint Laurent Museum, ‘Chapter 7 Models” in the section entitled Les Femmes Saint Laurent begins: “In the creative process, the presence of the model is essential. Unlike Gabrielle Chanel, who worked on inanimate models, Yves Saint Laurent cannot conceive without living models. Yves Saint Laurent often draws his collection with them in mind.” And often, he dedicated a garment to them because he considered the women who walked for the Maison human beings and not mere hangers. Therefore, it is no coincidence that the book Rebecca Ayoko, published in 2012, has the title Quand Les Étoiles Deviennent Noires [When The Stars Turn Black], a direct reference to a dress the creator dedicated to her.
“Chanel gave women freedom. Yves Saint Laurent gave them power.” This sentence by Pierre Bergé highlights what the designer did for women, especially the models who worked for him. When Rebecca Ayoko arrived in France in the early 1980s, she had a gaping wound. Her years of modelling in Ivory Coast had failed to restore her self-confidence because her femininity, her beauty, and her being were torn from her at the age of 13 when she was raped and became pregnant. She recounts this episode of her life once again with candour and a look and words betraying a fragile teenager: “It’s in my book Quand Les Étoiles Deviennent Noires: Des rues d’Abidjan aux Podiums de Saint Laurent [When The Stars Turn Black: From Abidjan’s streets to the Saint Laurent’s Catwalks], that I dared to speak for the first time about my rape. It was like therapy. I was carrying this heavy past on my shoulders, a painful past that no one ever defended from. Not even my family. It was as if I was made responsible for that rape. And it was Saint Laurent, as he loved and complimented me, who enabled me to regain, little by little, confidence in myself.” Here is the power of Saint Laurent: see the humanity of his models and give them wings. In an interview with Models.com, Amalia Vairelli, a Somali model who started at Hubert de Givenchy’s fashion shows in 1976, says, “[her] most culturally, artistically, and humanly enriching experience was with Yves Saint Laurent.” These are words that echo the story that Rebecca Ayoko makes of the couturier. She nevertheless ends this painful story on a humourous note, “Yves Saint Laurent gave me so much love that I became narcissistic [laughs]." From her experience with the designer, she draws a lesson she wants to convey: “Love one another.”
These words still ring in my head because, during the almost two hours we spent together, I saw that her eyes had an immense tenderness towards me.
Besides Yves Saint Laurent, Rebecca Ayoko has had other prestigious benefactors. The first is the Italian Gianfranco Ferré, who immediately wanted her exclusively at Dior and then for his eponymous brand when he saw her in a picture. Geoffrey Beene is the other fashion designer who adored Rebecca. Considered one of the pioneers of American fashion, he is known for challenging the status quo of American fashion by introducing women’s haute couture to the United States. With such patrons, the former model became a regular at fashion shows for the likes of Valentino, Trussardi, Calvin Klein, Carolina Herrera, Armani, and Oscar de la Renta. Arriving well before supermodels Naomi Campbell, Linda Evangelista, Christy Turlington, and Claudia Schiffer, who marked the 90s, and contemporary Inès de la Fressange, the muse of Chanel and Karl Lagerfeld. I continue to be amazed. With such a career, why is Rebecca Ayoko not identified as such — like Betty Catroux, loved by Hedi Slimane? Not to take into account that she is Black in a French context because whether it is about her, Mounia Orosemane, Katoucha Niane, or Amalia Vairelli, it is clear that despite an international career and a consequent success, none are celebrated as they should be. If their relationship with Yves Saint Laurent has made their reputation, it is perhaps also the latter that has hindered their passage to posterity. Once the couturier passed on, the link with the Maison weakened. If the notion of codes’ legacy remained, the relationships created by the fashion designer with his Black muses were not maintained after his death. Moreover, it is important to note that the brand, owned by Kering, is no longer called Yves Saint Laurent but Saint Laurent, perhaps to signify a distance from the polemics and controversies related to the Saint Laurent-Bergé couple. But that’s not what matters to Rebecca because she ends the interview with these words, ”My great wealth is my name, Rebecca Ayoko.”
Original Text Emmanuelle Maréchal
Translated from French by Shaughna Kay-Todd
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What a fantastic profile, interview and history lesson. I felt transported reading this.
It is a shame how much of French cultural history rarely gets transmitted here in the UK, so thank you for sharing Rebecca’s story.
Rebecca was featured in Harper’s Bazaar often when I very young, and she’s aging in reverse! Great post, as usual!