For the timeless and the effortless
In the Cab With
Ronald Burton III
A Conversation on Movement in Pictures, Powerful Storytelling, and the Innate Influence of Black Culture
November 22 2025, by Bart Kooi
Whether contributing to publications including Fantastic Man, T, W, WSJ., and British GQ, styling Venus Williams for the US Open, or working with Maxwell Osborne, Dao-Yi Chow, and Justin Jefferson for this year’s Met Gala Superfine: Tailoring Black Style, Burton brings a Black narrative-driven sensibility to every project he works on. It is a reflection of a keen awareness of culture and representation, shaped by the worlds he grew up around and the visual language that informed him.
In this week’s In the Cab With: Ronald Burton III, he reflects: “Ultimately, understanding the body as a storytelling tool helps me create styling that’s not just visual, but emotional, expressive, and connected.”
If we start at the beginning. Was there a specific moment in your life when you realized you wanted to work in fashion?
I’m from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Growing up, I didn’t see many opportunities for people to pursue any sort of creative field choice. In elementary and middle school, when everyone said: “I want to be a doctor or a lawyer,” I was always at a loss for words. Though I was academically gifted, my favorite classes were art, music, and my after- school drama program.
The curiosity and connection to creativity led me to go to a performing arts high school. I was a theater major initially, until I took a dance class, and that is where I really began to lock in and frame my life pursuing a creative career. When I started dancing—for some at a considerably late age—I didn’t know much, but my body felt so familiar with it. So I changed my major to dance, and three years later, I moved to New York to study on scholarship with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater while pursuing my degree at Fordham University.
I quickly realized however that dance was something I did really well, but I didn’t necessarily have the same passion for it as my peers did. I needed a back up plan. Friends suggested I look into fashion school, which pushed me to intern to figure out what a career in fashion could look like. I briefly interned at Dior but where I really fell in love with fashion was when I got to Complex magazine. Seeing how the Fashion Director would take talent and place them in a different world than how you’d normally see them was really powerful. That’s where I thought, “Oh wow, this feels a lot like theater.”
After Complex, I scored an internship at V magazine, which was my fashion boot camp. All the stars, highest caliber photographers, models, and stylists were brought to that one publication. I got really into how the editors took designers’ collections and formulated a point of view for the season. That’s probably where I got the bug. I thought, “I want to be this pedigree of a fashion editor; I want to be the person who is shaping and contributing to the dialogue of not just fashion, but culture overall.”
So you grew into it step by step, slowly realizing this might be what you wanted to do, until it clicked: you wanted to be a stylist. Before that, did fashion play a role in your life?
I wouldn’t necessarily say Philadelphia is a very fashionable city, but I would say it’s a very stylish city. Growing up in an inner city, you’re exposed early on to style as a form of self-expression. My parents are quite young, and growing up with young parents and in a vibrant inner city like Philadelphia, style was always at the forefront of the conversation, we all wanted to dress like the cool celebrities we looked up to.
My mom, in particular, is a very stylish woman; she’s always loved fashion. When I was younger I remember her signature like a sculptural hair do, statement gold jewelry, a sky high pair of stilettos daily, and her monogram Fendi handbag—I believe that was the only designer item she had at the time. Her Fendi bag wasn't carried in the way a traditional luxury customer would carry them, but it was injected with that city spice and nuance. For me, that made the conversation about style even more interesting. I also grew up in the church, my dad is a pastor. There is the whole “Sunday’s best” tradition, which is really important for a lot of Black families. It was always about getting dressed, putting your best foot forward, and the message that was drilled in was that presentation is everything.
So fashion was there, but you wouldn’t necessarily call it fashion? It was more about representation, expression, and style.
Exactly. Philadelphia wasn’t necessarily a label-obsessed place, but the fashion and creative space in the ‘90s, coupled with pop culture and tons of black cinema, influenced how a lot of Black families perceived themselves, or hoped to be at least.
You’ve said that you draw inspiration from more extreme characters and try to understand the source of what has shaped them. What do you think shapes you most as a stylist?
For me it’s all about character study as well as character building. There is always an emotional narrative that I try to attach clothing to. When I think about stories, a lot of the time it is not about the big shapes or how exuberant or exaggerating things can be. It’s about how you’re dressing the picture.
Clothes take a life when they’re worn by individuals. I am always curious about what those nuances are in terms of how closely tied fashion can be to an emotional feeling and to how you present yourself.
Dance taught me how emotion lives in the body, so I often think about how clothes move, or don’t; the energy they create, and how they make me feel before anything else. Because I’m used to building characters and emotional arcs on stage, I naturally bring that narrative mindset into my work—every look has intention and plays a role in the story. I’m also very tuned into atmosphere, tone, and collaboration, which comes from working in performance settings where everything from posture to lighting contributes to a mood. Ultimately, understanding the body as a storytelling tool helps me create styling that’s not just visual, but emotional, expressive, and connected.
How do you get that figurative idea of movement into a picture?
It’s based on the energy or emotion I want to give off. I use clothes that naturally have a strong shape, catch motion, or allow you to explore the body differently. I normally do a ton of movement ideas in my research prep so that talent has a feeling to go off of.
If you pull those references, how do you ensure your work stays original? How do you make sure it’s something new?
When I’m creating, I’m not trying to create something that feels new. I’m trying to create something that feels authentic. It's about the nuance and space between what’s on the runway and how you translate that into real life.
For me, it’s not about being different for the sake of difference. What inspires me, and what I hope touches others, is that spirit of authenticity and tangibility. I always approach it from a sense of self.
Ultimately, understanding the body as a storytelling tool helps me create styling that’s not just visual, but emotional, expressive, and connected.
Your subjects are often women of color, exploring their beauty and range across different types of storytelling. What kinds of stories do you aim to tell?
Black culture and Black women have been at the forefront of my life, all my life. Coming from a place like Philadelphia, it’s still very much a Black city—in theater, culture, arts, love. I never approach a story feeling like it has to have this point of view, or it has to have that cultural angle. Black culture, and Black women, is just innately what I’ve been brought up around. It’s what inspires me, I think that’s true for any artist.
For me, it’s not a thought that occurs without thinking about Black women. From my mom to my grandmothers, aunts, cousins, and even close friends, these are women who have always been sources of inspiration and exploration in my work. When I’m considering context, Black women fit in all contexts to me.
Awar is obviously one of the most in-demand models of the moment. When WSJ. approached me, I was chatting with the style director, and she kept mentioning the idea of Awar being the hardest-working woman in fashion right now. We gave that a context of a sort of suiting story.
I considered the context of who she is and how she wears the clothes. I thought about the era of the ’90s, the hype of sportswear, and what it meant to navigate spaces in corporate America with style, class, strength, and power.
There’s always a point of eccentricity in my work, a surrealistic space I like to play in. As we‘d go through the creative concept and ideas, we were thinking, “Maybe we could bring in a group of men, like a “Men in Black” type of squad, standing behind her—but in a supporting role.” She’s still the boss, the authoritative figure in the situation. She is powerful, but I guess subconsciously I’m saying blackness is powerful.
After the pictures were created, some people saw it as a super powerful message. But for me it just felt natural, this world where the Black woman is leading and you have these strong Black male characters as support. Subconsciously I guess I have created a world where I see powerful people of my culture holding these roles or spaces.
But even though it comes naturally to you, are you aware of the impact you might be making with these images?
Of course. But we’re also in a space in the sense that the stories that I am telling and the subjects that I am highlighting aren’t necessarily always the majority. Normally, when I’m brought in to do what I do, I know that the work will have a cultural pov. I’m definitely aware of that but it doesn’t change anything for me. It’s interesting because with creatives and artists, everyone should bring their unique and authentic point of view, that’s what makes the world go round and contributes to how culture evolves. I’m always aware that the work I do in this space can be culturally expansive, or culturally inclusive, for many people; but for me it’s just my work.
You’ve worked with models like Mona Tougaard and Awar Odhiang, as well as with Solange and Venus Williams — whom you styled in a full white look as a nod to Althea Gibson at this year’s US Open. Are historical references like these an important part of your work, to put it into a context?
Absolutely. When I’m putting together editorial boards, there are definitely figures I look to—older musicians, writers, or others. With Venus, there was a reference to someone who came before us, and I liked the idea of Venus holding that space and becoming an inspiration for a new generation.
It’s not always a direct reference or so necessarily spot on as the Venus reference, but when I draw inspiration, many figures play into my work. It could be Josephine Baker on the mood board, or maybe there’s a young Naomi Campbell, or Diana Ross. These women are always part of how the sense of inspiration evolves, they have trail blazed for me to dream the way I do.
How do you see your role as a male stylist in building these narratives?
I’ve always grown up with a lot of women in my life. I’ve always had a very close connection to women. These are my best friends in college, in high school, and so forth. I often have a front seat in different spaces of what a lot of these friends and family members experience, in terms of working through relationships and understanding the totality of the range of what a Black woman can be and who she is.
Having this front row seat and understanding the complexities of what it is to be a Black woman, and also seeing the beauty and celebration in it, I see myself as a facilitator. I like to explore a range of presentations and emotions. It’s about how I exalt, or highlight, what I see to be so dynamic about Black women.
Does being a man make it more challenging or change the way you approach it?
That’s difficult. Obviously there is this idea of the male gaze, but I think I have come in contact and explored such ranges of who Black women are. For me, it’s a subtle nod to and a subtle highlight of that.
I don’t start with “I’m exploring Black women,” it’s never the starting point. It just naturally comes through. That’s what I know. That’s what I am inspired by. That is always going to come into play as I am exploring and building out an idea.
It’s about how I exalt what I see to be so dynamic about Black women.
Is there a specific underlying message or red thread that connects all these ideas, your body of work?
It’s a few things that you could say. There is this idea of performance that goes through my work, but also always past Black narratives that I look to explore and modernize; even if it’s not necessarily that the subject is Black, it’s my world of inspiration.
For me, it changes season to season. I take moments to sit with what’s shown on the runways and think about it: “What’s the story I want to tell, and how am I inspired or compelled to tell it?”. I guess, it’s still hard for me to define “my thing”.
How does your work as a Fashion Director differ from your role as a stylist? What sets your curation apart?
As a Fashion Director, I see myself more as a curator. What I’m especially excited about my role at Document [Journal], is that I’m very keen to have diverse representation in terms of what the points of views are. It’s inspiring to see what’s happening in cities globally—Paris, London, Milan—and who the key players are with a voice that feels right for Document.
When I was in talks to rejoin, the question was: “What do I want Document to feel like?” For me, the answer is that it needs to feel like New York. In the sense of a transient space where many cultures and walks of life intersect and cross-pollinate. That creates the next conversation about where culture moves and goes.
If we move to your personal style; a signature question of this series is: What are your Seven Easy Pieces?
- A baggy jean;
- A full trouser,
- A button up shirt,
- A T-shirt,
- An overcoat;
- I’m bald, so obviously there is always like a hat, baseball cap or beanie involved;
- And a pair of sunglasses that I probably can’t see through, so they don’t stay on very long.
Finally, what makes something very Cabmate to you?
Authenticity and genuineness, which comes from a place that doesn’t necessarily start with fashion as a base. It’s real, lived experience, and it’s taking that to open dialogue in the world •
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
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