From Durags to Dior: How Black culture sidestepped the NBA dress code of 2005
Basketball players are notoriously fashionable. From Chanel, to Prada, to Gucci, the NBA pregame tunnel has become a runway for designer-clad athletes. But this wasn’t always the case — at least not before 2005.
Before ‘05, players like Allen Iverson and Shaquille O'Neal would show up to games dripped in gold chains, oversized sweatsuits, and durags. That changed when then-commissioner David Stern implemented a strict business-casual dress code for all players. Suddenly, players had to ditch the durags and consult Tom Ford in an effort to ‘clean up’ the NBA’s image. 30 nationwide teams torn from hip-hop's drip and stitched into European suits.
At the forefront of this dress code, was an obvious racial bias where the white big boss was policing Black expression for his own capital gain.
The dress code was a direct response to the infamous 2004 ‘Malice at the Palace’ brawl. During a game between the Detroit Pistons and Indiana Pacers at the Palace of Auburn Hills, Pistons’ centre Ben Wallace was fouled from behind by Pacers forward Ron Artest. Wallace shoved Artest, sparking an on-court scuffle. After the players were separated, a fan threw a drink at Artest, who then charged into the stands. Teammates followed. Chaos erupted as drinks and punches flew between fans and players. The game was never finished, and police were called to restore order.
As fists flew, so did the NBA's reputation. Commissioner Stern was less panicked about the state of his players, and more about the state of the NBA’s image.
So, Stern brought down his iron fist. On the unstylish day of October 17th, 2005, Kobe swapped his baggy jeans for dress slacks. Melo traded his Jordans for Oxfords. And D-Wade slipped out of his jersey and into a suit jacket.
Art / Olive Bartlet-Mowatt
The new rules required players to wear business or conservative attire when arriving and leaving games, sitting on the bench while injured, or conducting official NBA business -- such as press interviews and charity events. Specifically banned were clothing items associated with hip-hop culture: jeans, hats, durags, oversized jewellery and Timberland-style boots.
Violating the dress code led to fines and suspensions for repeat offenders. But basketball has always been tied to hip-hop and R&B — not just in the way players dressed. Former Laker’s player Shaq was close friends with The Notorious B.I.G and the Wu-Tang Clan. Former player and now coach of Dallas Mavericks, Jason Kidd, had a full-blown rap career before signing on to the NBA. And basketball references are pillars of rap lyrics, like Jay-Z's ‘N**** in Paris’: “Ball so hard, bitch behave. Just might let you meet Ye. Chi town’s D. Rose, I’m moving the Nets to BK.”
But Stern couldn’t dictate who players befriended outside of the court. So, he threw a bucket of white paint over the NBA, claiming he was ‘cleaning’ it up. Fans and players criticised Stern, calling it racially charged and a rejection of basketball’s deep roots in America’s Black community.
Indiana Pacers’ Stephen Jackson told The Standard Times in 2005, “I think it’s a racist statement because a lot of guys who are wearing chains are my age and are black.”
Stern’s approach reduced athletes to money-making machines, sidelining their complex cultural identities.
For the players, changing their look didn’t make sense. Style icon and Philadelphia 76ers’ point guard Allen Iverson laughed in a 2022 interview on The Dan Patrick Show, saying, “When I grew up, I never went to the park with a suit on to play basketball.” He added, “I was hurt by it … Everybody don’t play the same so why would everybody look the same?”
Stripping an industry of the culture it profits from is page one of the colonialism playbook: extract the riches, erase the roots. But Stern denied that the ruling was racially motivated. In a 2020 ESPN interview, Stern said, “I was accused of having a plantation mentality, you know it depends who wanted to use it.”
While Stern continued pointing at the ‘Malice at the Palace’ brawl, the question remains: what do off-court outfits have to do with on-court violence?
What Stern couldn’t have predicted was the menswear revolution that followed. In the true fashion of Black dandyism, players elevated their looks, reclaiming style as resistance. It was almost as if they turned around and said, “You want fancy? Oh, we can do fancy.”
Rolling Stone wrote in 2016, "Over the years, NBA players accepted, then embraced and eventually began to have fun with the new dress code, changing men's fashion in the process.”
Pregame looks transformed into editorial-ready artworks. Pinstriped suits, custom watches and exaggerated silhouettes sat purposefully on the bodies of America’s best athletes. Instead of dulling player expression, the dress code became a canvas.
Pregame tunnels became catwalks. Players collaborated with fashion houses, sponsored luxury brands, and even graced magazine covers — like Kobe Bryant’s Vogue debut in 2008.
Despite Stern’s efforts to distance the NBA from Black culture, the opposite happened: Black culture reshaped the fashion industry and, as a result, the NBA.
Turns out, if you try to police Black expression, Kobe Bryant ends up on the cover of Vogue.