I moved to Brooklyn in January, chasing a graphic design internship at a small creative agency. The city was brutally cold, and so was the routine—coffee, subway, deadlines, repeat. As a fresh graduate from North Carolina, I thought the city’s fashion scene would excite me. Instead, I felt invisible. Everyone wore the same black jackets, rushed through life, and barely noticed one another. But then, I saw it—a stranger in an Asaali hoodie on the L train.
It wasn’t flashy. Just a dusty blue hoodie with bold, textured stitching that said: “Don’t mistake quiet for empty.” Something about it struck me so hard that I followed the person off the train just to ask about it. They smiled and said, “Asaali. It’s a Brooklyn thing.”
That same weekend, I hunted down the brand. A small pop-up in Flatbush had just a few racks—mostly hoodies, tees, and sweatshirts. Everything felt handmade, intentional. I tried on a forest green Asaali hoodie that read: “Soft does not mean weak.” It fit like it had been made for me. I bought it without thinking twice.
Wearing that hoodie changed how I walked through the city.
Strangers nodded. A barista complimented the phrase. My coworkers started asking about it. The hoodie became a kind of quiet armor, and suddenly I didn’t feel so invisible anymore. Asaali hoodies weren’t loud—but they said everything that mattered. Every thread felt like resistance to fast fashion, to empty trends, to pretending.
I learned the brand was created by a group of young Black artists from New York who wanted to give people a way to wear their stories, their pasts, and their hope. The quotes on each hoodie weren’t just slogans—they were pieces of real pain and beauty turned into wearable poetry.
One night after work, I found myself sketching again—for the first time in months. Inspired by Asaali’s authenticity, I started designing a small zine: “Voices in Fabric.” I featured strangers on the street wearing pieces that said something real, not just stylish. Asaali, of course, was the heart of it. When I posted it online, it took off. The brand even reshared it.
Now, I wear my Asaali hoodie on days I want to feel connected—to myself, to the city, to anyone who’s ever felt too quiet to be seen. In a place like New York, that means everything.
Asaali hoodies don’t try to impress. They just speak truth. And sometimes, that’s all you need.