With an afro she has had since she is three that dwarfs most hairstyles in its majestic prominence, Angel claims that she never fit in as a kid and was always looking for someone to identify with. Her mom is a thoroughbred Brit, a model who was “posh, stuck-up, and beautiful.” Her Dad is African-American, a biker in overalls, tons of rings, and, now and then, purple hair. Angel is very honest about not being “exactly the type that comes from Yorkshire– in America they see you as black, and in Africa they see you as white.” In a jacket made out of electric purple feathers, her Dad’s love of George Clinton and the Parliament-Funkadelic is clear; in her ’80s-era gold lame trousers and affinity for satin bodysuits she recalls a Mom who raised her on disco album covers. But it is Angel’s ability to throw away all things material in order to keep moving and traveling that most defines her worldly presence.
Angel has lived in Maui, New York, Mexico City, Berlin, Paris, Uganda, and Toronto– just to name a few. “I keep going,” she says. Working at a refugee camp near the Sudan, Angel helped build a school and found her inner zen in nature walks, passion fruits, a pet deer, and total freedom from Facebook and text messages. I love that she sat on her roof for a month, hiding from Western civilization after returning to America. Abandoning consumer culture was Angel’s M.O. back in the States. Now living in Los Angeles, she is not in a “fashionable phase” – just lots of ’80s and ’90s swimwear, she says. But Angel never needs much to be distinct; in her mother’s watercolor wrap dress and vintage ’70s wedges, with or without the drama of her blue lamé dress she is extraordinary.