Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today - ¡Moda Hoy! 9781350343955, 1350343951

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Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today ¡Moda Hoy!

Also published by Bloomsbury Food and Fashion, edited by Melissa Marra-Alvarez and Elizabeth Way Paris, Capital of Fashion, edited by Valerie Steele

Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today ¡Moda Hoy! Edited by Tanya Meléndez-Escalante and Melissa Marra-Alvarez

BLOOMSBURY VISUAL ARTS Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY VISUAL ARTS and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2024 Copyright © the Authors 2024 for their individual texts Copyright © The Museum at FIT 2024 for this edition and its images Tanya Meléndez-Escalante and Melissa Marra-Alvarez have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgments on p. xi constitute an extension of this copyright page. Cover design by Adriana Brioso Cover image: Juan de La Paz, Asymmetrical Chola Dress. Photographed by Eddie Wrey, Styled by Poppy Kain for British Vogue, January 2022. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-1-3503-4395-5 ePDF: 978-1-3503-4396-2 eBook: 978-1-3503-4397-9 Typeset by Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

To Alex and Adrian To Teresa and Lea

From left to right: Designs by Esteban Cortázar, April Walker, Isaías Salgado and Carla Fernández x adidas, and Gypsy Sport, featured in the “Popular Culture ‘’ section of the exhibition ¡Moda Hoy! Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today. Photo Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

CONTENTS Foreword by Valerie Steele  viii Foreword by Regina Root  x Acknowledgments xi

1 Introduction by Tanya Meléndez-Escalante and Melissa Marra-Alvarez  3

6 Rethinking Fashion as a Political Act: Challenges and Possibilities in Latin American Dressing Hanayrá Negreiros  159

2 Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the Twentieth Century William Cruz Bermeo  21

Case Study: Carla Fernández Adelita Ensemble Elena Pérez-Ardá López  179

Case Study: Luis Estévez Evening Set William Cruz Bermeo 51

7 Ropa sin género: Contemporary Latinx and Latin American Genderless Fashion Alexis Carreño 185

3 Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion Laura Beltrán-Rubio  55 Case Study: 1/8 Takamura x Artesanía Textil ArteFer Cuadro Tlahui Blouse Melissa Marra-Alvarez 73

4 Fashion and Art: Trans-discipline and Cultural Intersections in the Work of Designers of Latin American Heritage Tanya MeléndezEscalante 79 Case Study: Rick Owens Tecuatl Ensemble Tanya Meléndez-Escalante 111

5 Charting Multiple Paths to Sustainability in Latin American and Latinx Fashion Melissa Marra-Alvarez 117 Case Study: Zero + Maria Cornejo for Hyundai Set Melissa Marra-Alvarez 155

Case Study: Sánchez-Kane Mamado Pantsuit Tanya Meléndez-Escalante  201

8 Latin American Elegance: An Intercultural Dialogue Ana Elena Mallet  205 Case Study: Esteban Cortázar Flamenco Dress William Cruz Bermeo  227

9 Pop Cultural References in Twenty-first-Century Latinx Fashion Michelle McVicker  233 Case Study: Equihua Devotion Coat Elena Pérez-Ardá López  251 Image List  255 Notes on Contributors  264 Index 266

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FOREWORD Valerie Steele

worked against fashion designers who come from outside the canon, whether because of the color of their skin, their gender, or their origin in the Global South. Already by the eighteenth century,“fashion” was increasingly defined throughout Europe and North America as originating in France (and, to a lesser extent, England). Elsewhere, there were degrees of fashionability, with elite dress in Spain and Portugal being perceived as old-fashioned. Styles that were already démodé in eighteenth-century Paris were often exported for resale as far away as South America, where they retained the aura of fashion. Meanwhile, people from Indigenous cultures in the Americas and Africa (as well as rural people in Europe) were increasingly said to wear “traditional dress” or “folk dress,” rather than “modern” fashion. Since fashion leadership, like many other forms of high culture, tends to follow power, Latin America remained for centuries at the margins of fashion history. Admittedly, wealthy individuals from Latin America were sometimes conspicuous among the clients of European couturiers. Evita Peron bought dresses by Christian Dior, for example, and Madeleine Vionnet greatly admired her Cuban and Argentinian clients for their physical beauty and grace. But it would be many years later that changing circumstances and new ways of thinking permitted Carolina Herrera to move from the Best Dressed List to membership in the Council of Fashion Designers of America. Even today, although fashion weeks take place in dozens of cities

The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology (MFIT) in New York has long been committed to the diversity of its collections, exhibitions, programs, and staff. ¡Moda Hoy! Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today, curated by Tanya Meléndez-Escalante and Melissa Marra-Alvarez, continues MFIT’s history of actively collecting, documenting, exhibiting, and interpreting fashion created by designers from outside the canon. The canon of “great fashion designers”—like the more familiar canons of “great books” or “great artists”—is heavily White, male, and Western European. Charles Frederick Worth, who is widely regarded as the founder of haute couture, is comparable to Aristotle or Leonardo Da Vinci, who are often said to be the founding fathers of, respectively, Western philosophy and European painting. Other canonically “great” fashion designers include Cristobal Balenciaga, Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel, Christian Dior, Halston, Yves Saint Laurent, Issey Miyake, and Alexander McQueen.There are some women, as well as individuals from Japan and the United States, but lists of great designers seldom include anyone from Latin America or the African diaspora.Why not? The art historian Linda Nochlin once asked, rhetorically, “Why have there been no great women artists?” Some of her colleagues observed that the playing field has never been level, while others argued that there have been great women artists, but they were not recognized as such until recently, because “greatness” was ideologically defined as male. The same type of historical and structural bias has

viii

around the world, the dominance of the “Big Four” fashion capitals—Paris, New York, Milan, and London—persists. In recent years, academics and curators have increasingly called for the “decolonization” of both fashion history and museum collections. Since there is no culture without history, fashion history is today being rewritten through a global lens. Yet the interconnectedness of cultures is only now beginning to be acknowledged and celebrated. Criteria in the past for judging “greatness” relied on narratives of modernity, which reproduced hierarchical relations within and across societies. These narratives of modernity, like the historical relations of power and subordination between the global North and South, are increasingly being rejected. As a result, Latin American art, architecture, and literature are increasingly recognized for their unique contributions to world culture. We anticipate that more and more people will also recognize the power and allure of Latin American and

Latinx fashion. Today, historians and curators of fashion are increasingly basing our criteria of quality on continual questioning of the significance and role(s) of fashion in today’s diverse world. To read a 2020 article like “The Incredible Whiteness of the Museum Fashion Collection” is to be shocked and saddened that so many famous museums have “overlooked” black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) designers. We are proud that MFIT’s permanent collection includes work by more than 125 BIPOC designers. ¡Moda Hoy! Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today joins many previous exhibitions at MFIT on subjects such as Black Fashion Designers, Latin American Designers on the New York Runway, 50 Years of Hip Hop, Asian-Americans in New York Fashion, China Chic, Japan Fashion Now, Women between the Wars, and A Queer History of Fashion. With each exhibition and acquisition, we have endeavored to build a more diverse and inclusive collection for today’s audience.

Foreword  ix

FOREWORD Regina Root

Latin American and Latinx fashion design has a rich chronology that narrates the story of globalization and its limits. This original book gathers cultural references and creative interventions as they relate to the dynamics of power and privilege within design practices, scholarly endeavors, and the fashion industry at large. Design experiments and practices, as the authors remind us, evoke powerful stories of invasions and lush landscapes, challenges and opportunities, intercultural dialogue and heritage collaborations, elegance and style. There are unique conglomerations of color, form and texture. The authors also explore the intricacies of time, wisdom, and committed action to assess the unique contributions of Latin American and Latinx fashion design practices. Bringing together this range of voices into a larger story of fashion is no small feat. In opening these worlds of knowledge, this book unlocks a conversation that is thoughtful, unquestionably complex, and powerful. This is, in fact, an invitation to walk alongside facets of the global fashion story, stopping along the way to admire and engage fully its passion and collective wisdom. “Fashion history is today being rewritten through a global lens,” the introduction explains. A massive change is indeed underway to decolonize and expand the archives when it comes to Latin American and Latinx fashion design. There are real challenges, however, to the underpinnings of such projects–– some of them driven by history, economics, sociopolitics, culture, and language. Fashion design can evoke deeply personal understandings of the contemporary moment. It can blur boundaries as it reveals historically

rooted tensions that resurface time and again. Among some of the more important strands are the centrality of cultural heritage concerns, race and ethnicity, gender and sexuality, and as one designer describes so beautifully herein, “the generosity of our planet.” This book also problematizes the representation of exotic landscapes and incongruous exaggerations, the dynamics of despair and activism to evoke change, cross-pollinations and laughter and fun as potential forms of cultural resistance. Recognizing the diversity of Latin American and Latinx fashion design brings to fore its margins, its cultural centers, and its significance on the global stage. ¡Moda Hoy! references hope for the kind of cultural engagement and belonging that in and of itself is unique and on the move. From creation to consumption and beyond, this book approaches the experimental and innovative nature of Latin American and Latinx fashion design. We can’t help but focus our attention on the material story, too, to understand the creation process, its imagined contexts, and dreams for the future. Gathering new voices ultimately means creating a kind of “sartorial bricolage,” as the editors remind us. Perhaps that is because any idea of Latin American and Latinx fashion is ultimately so many different things ––inspiring and edgy and diverse and rebellious and forward thinking. Maybe you, too, will come up with your own ideas and join the conversation. A journey to the heart of Latin American and Latinx fashion design. ¡Moda Hoy! ¡Adelante!

x

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many people helped to make this book and related exhibition possible. We would like to extend our thanks to Dr. Joyce F. Brown, President of the Fashion Institute of Technology for her continued support of The Museum at FIT. This book and its related exhibition would not be possible without FIT’s leadership, and the generosity of the members of the Couture Council of The Museum at FIT. They make it possible for us to mount exhibitions that educate and inspire audiences, and advance recognition of the cultural significance of dress and fashion. Our deepest gratitude goes to our director and chief curator, Dr. Valerie Steele, an esteemed mentor who has always guided, supported, and encouraged our ideas. Her vision and leadership have made our museum truly open to diversity. We are especially grateful to our fellow contributors Laura Beltrán-Rubio, Alexis Carreño, William Cruz Bermeo, Ana Elena Mallet, Michelle McVicker, Hanayrá Negreiros, and Elena Pérez-Ardá López. We are forever indebted to our Advisory Committee who have been advocates and supporters of this project from its inception: Aldo Araujo (CFDA), Pilar Blanco-Ruiz (FIT), Nina Garcia (Elle), Estefanía Lacayo (LAFS), Hanayrá Negreiros (MASP), Samantha Tams (LAFS), Ruben Toledo, and Yliana Yepez. A special thanks to William Cruz Bermeo (Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana) who traveled to New York City to lend his insight and knowledge to this project,

and to Regina Root (William & Mary) for her thoughtful foreword. This book would not have been possible without the time and generosity of the numerous Latin American and Latinx designers included in this volume. Our deepest gratitude for your participation in support of this book. Thank you for giving us your time, sharing your knowledge, responding to our countless requests, and generously allowing us to share your thoughts, ideas, and photographs. We hope we are doing justice to your labor. Because this book accompanies an exhibition, we want to thank our colleagues at The Museum at FIT: Patricia Mears, Eileen Costa, Zainab Floyd, Faith Cooper, Colleen Hill, Ann Coppinger, Tamsen Young, Michael Goitia, Sonia Dingilian, Vanessa Vasquez, Nateer Cirino, Gladys Rathod, Glendene Small, Elizabeth Way, Lynn Sallaberry, Reina Hernandez, Alison Castañeda, Callie O’Connor, Gabrielle Lauricella, Ryan Wolfe, Thomas Synnamon, Kenneth Wiesinger, Jill Hemingway, and Laura Gawron. Thank you to our colleagues at FIT who gave us the opportunity to learn more about the work of textile artisans: Dean Brooke Carlson, Pamela Ellsworth, and Katharine Dorny.Thanks to our fellows and interns who assisted with this publication, Katherine Prior, Lillianna DeGuiceis, and particularly Frida Loyola whose research and outreach were invaluable to this project. Much gratitude to Richard Gottlieb, our copyeditor, for his infinite patience.

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Last but not least, our esteemed thanks to everyone at Bloomsbury, especially Frances Arnold and Rebecca Hamilton for steering this book along. It is always a pleasure working with you. Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders of images and obtain their permission for the use of copy-

righted material. The publisher apologizes for any errors or omissions in copyright acknowledgment and would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book.

(L) Equihua, Devotion coat, New Classics collection, 2018, USA. (R) Kika Vargas, dress, 2022, Colombia. Gift of Kika Vargas. Photo Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS  xii

1

Introduction Tanya Meléndez-Escalante and Melissa Marra-Alvarez

I

n 2017 the trade publication, Business of Fashion, published an article devoted to the fashion landscape in Latin America. Presenting the region as a land of opportunity, journalist Robb Young described the fashion scenes, consumer preferences, and burgeoning retail initiatives throughout the region. Young built the case that historically Latin American fashion has been overlooked by the international scene, though in reality it is a force to be reckoned with. The designer behind the Peruvian womenswear brand Escvdo, Chiara Macchiavello, has lamented, “Latin America has this unfortunate stigma when it comes to the way the global [fashion] market sees us. Because of its long history of crooked governments and these jarring social, economic problems, we’ve sometimes been perceived as underdeveloped and, because of that, people sometimes still question our taste.”1 However,Young affirms that the region is ripe with burgeoning talent and potential. For decades now, fashion designers of Latin American descent such as Carolina Herrera, Haider Ackermann, Alexandre Herchcovitch, Johanna Ortiz, Humberto Leon, and Lazaro Hernandez have been central figures in fashion.Their success in the industry has paved the

Figure 1.1  Dress and coat by Cuban American designer Isabel Toledo worn by Michelle Obama to inaugural festivities, 2009. Photograph by Ron Sachs-Pool/ Getty Images.

3

way for new generations of talent to make names for themselves: Fernando Garcia, Kika Vargas, Ricardo Seco, and Elena Velez are just a handful of ascendant designers who are making their mark on the global scene by helming fashion houses, by winning awards as emerging global talents, and by dressing celebrities and first ladies.Yet, despite the strong presence of Latin American and Latinx (people of Latin American descent living in the United States) designers in the fashion industry, no book or exhibition has comprehensively addressed the contributions of this group to global fashion today.2 Media from the United States has often examined the fashion of Latin America from an outsider’s perspective as an exoticized other, presenting the region as a whole as a homogenous entity. This volume rejects the notion of a singular Latin American style by highlighting instead the diversity of talent that continues to shape contemporary fashion. Geographically, Latin America encompasses a very large territory and refers to a set of nations within North America, the Caribbean, Central America, and South America. Diversity has existed within the Americas since pre-Columbian times, as there was much variety between the dress and textile practices of its different civilizations.3 Additionally, this publication includes an examination of designers of Latin American heritage living and working in the United States (who are often referred to variously in the existing literature as one or more of the following: Hispanic, Latino/a, or Latinx), as “[i]t is no longer possible to discuss Latin America without considering the contributions of the diaspora as well as the hybridity resulting from the constant contact and flow between the diaspora and their places of origin.”4 Moreover, as professor of Hispanic Studies Regina Root has noted, fashion studies have long been shaped “by Western discourses of power and privilege.”5 For decades now, academia has been exploring ways of moving away from this starting point with some authors recognizing fashion as a global phenomenon with individual and collective implications, while others use a postcolonial lens to examine global fashion. Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today ¡Moda Hoy! examines Latin American and Latinx fashion design over the past twenty years. What, then, is Latin American fashion in the twenty-first century? Root posed a similar question more than fifteen years ago in her book, The Latin American Fashion Reader, where she wrote, “The very term, which refers to the dress, body, and culture of a large heterogeneous world culture region, might seem too impractical for the scholar wishing to compare and contrast the fashions of Mexico, Central America, the Caribbean, and South America.”6 Acknowledging the diversity within the fashions of the region, Root also noted that, as a cultural process, “Fashion is a profoundly social experience that invites individual and collective bodies to assume certain identities and, at times, also to transgress limits and to create new ones.”7 It is from this perspective that this book seeks to continue exploring the sociohistorical influences and cultural dynamics that have given rise to the unique sartorial bricolage that is Latin American and Latinx fashion. The current literature on fashion from the region produced by scholarly institutions is often highly academic, focusing on a country, region, or specific mode of dress.8 On the other hand, the books on Latin American fashion targeted to a general audience tend to focus on lavish illustrations and offer only limited analysis. Additionally, books that have been published in Spanish rarely address the region as a whole and tend to address Latin American fashion from a historical perspective. This volume, however, proposes a polycentric approach to understanding the region’s fashion design. It includes

Chapter 1   Introduction  4

Figure 1.2  Proenza Schouler, spring–summer 2017 ready-towear collection. Cuban American designer Lazaro Hernandez co-helms the fashion label Proenza Schouler with Jack McCollough. Photograph by Peter White/Getty Images.

Figure 1.3  Models present creations by Colombian designer Kika Vargas during the Colombiamoda fashion event in Medellin, Colombia, 2015. REUTERS/Fredy Builes.

essays by authors who write from within the region and who thus provide a self-­ reflecting perspective. Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today ¡Moda Hoy! takes a decentering approach to fashion studies. Authors Nancy K. Rivenburgh and Valerie Manusov explain that decentering allows for the shifting of perspectives away from a single cultural viewpoint.They write, “decentering is a process where the central concepts and propositions in the research do not originate in, or privilege, a single culture, but are derived from, and are relevant to, multiple cultures.”9 Because Latin America is made up of many countries, it is important to take a decentering approach when discussing the region.10 As editors of this book, we acknowledge that we are affiliated with a fashion museum located in the heart of New York City, a globally recognized fashion center. As Macchiavello expressed earlier, the region, with its shared histories of colonialism, globalism, imperialism, industrialization processes, and local modes of modernity, has historically been dismissed by dominant Eurocentric fashion voices as underdeveloped. With this publication, we are hoping to offer an alternative narrative. Discussing Euro-American perspectives on Latin America, feminist scholar Ofelia Schutte has proposed that [t]he culture with the upper hand will generate resistance in the group that fails to enjoy a similar cultural status, while the culture of the subaltern group will hardly be understood in its importance or complexity by those belonging to the culturally dominant group unless exceptional measures are taken to promote a good dialogue.11

Chapter 1   Introduction  6

Figure 1.4  Installation image from The Museum at FIT exhibition Global Fashion Capitals. Left: Carla Fernández, Adelita pantsuit, Charros collection, fall 2009. Right: Ricardo Seco, ensemble, Dreams collection, spring–summer 2015. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

She concludes by asserting that it is almost impossible for two cultures to be completely transparent to one another, since there will always be nuances of meaning that will not translate in cross-cultural endeavors. However, a constructive understanding of the other is possible once a variety of voices address a given phenomenon. Hence, this book brings together a number of curators and scholars from Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Mexico, and the United States. Their academic backgrounds are diverse, and so are their approaches to the study of fashion. The impetus for writing this book is the desire to showcase the rich and layered work coming out of Latin America and to challenge generalized notions about fashion by designers of Latin American heritage.These essays bring to the fore a number of asymmetrical relationships including North-South relations, ethnic and racial tensions, and class struggles.The contributors highlight how fashion designers engage with these and other issues. Furthermore, more than a chronological survey of the development of fashion in Latin America, this book offers a critical examination of how Latin American fashion is understood within the global industry. It is also important to address the topics of race and ethnicity, as the understanding of these concepts is localized, and differs from country to country. The sociologist Edward Telles, who was part of a team that researched ethnicity and race in Latin American countries, has explained that “[e]thnoracial self-identification is clearly endogenous as it may involve a calculus based not only on appearance but also on variables such as culture, personal trajectory, and social status.”12 In the simplest terms this means that the concept of identity is murky for a variety of reasons. While being Hispanic is considered an ethnicity in the United States, this concept is not applicable in Latin American countries where ethnicity is associated with peoples whose cultural differences are conspicuously different from the dominant culture of a given country. As Telles has noted, this is because “[r]ace and ethnicity, regardless of whether they are categorical or based on skin color, are not natural or essential but rather social constructions, in which particular contexts make them more or less salient.”13 For instance, in Latin America the experiences of Blacks tend to be considered as racially based, while those of Indigenous peoples are often considered ethnic.14 In the United States the topic of ethnic and racial self-identification can be a contentious one, especially for people of Latin American heritage. According to the 2020 US Census, there are over 60 million Hispanics living in the United States. This accounts for approximately 18 percent of the population, which makes it the largest emerging majority group in the country. New York City has the second-largest Latinx population after Los Angeles. The US government used the term Hispanic on census forms in the 1970s. It is still used to categorize people whose heritage derives from Spanish-speaking countries including Spain. By the 1990s, however, the terms Latino and Latina became increasingly popular in the US to refer to “any person with ancestry in Latin America, a politically defined region usually unified by the predominance of Romance languages. This definition usually includes Portuguese-speaking Brazil and French-speaking Haiti, but excludes Spain.”15 Early in the twenty-first century the term Latinx was coined within academia, particularly in the field of queer studies, as a gender-neutral and more inclusive term.16 Since then, the use of Latinx has evolved to embrace Black, Indigenous, and Queer experiences. Another gender-neutral iteration of this term is Latine.17 While in English the use of the letter x is commonly used to replace the o/a in Latino/a, this is not in keeping with the colloquial use of the letter e in Spanish, where it is used

Chapter 1   Introduction  8

Figure 1.5  Opening Ceremony, ensemble, spring 2014, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Opening Ceremony. Humberto Leon co-helms the label Opening Ceremony with Carol Lim. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Figure 1.6  Elena Velez spring–summer 2022 fashion presentation during New York Fashion Week. Photograph by Jason Mendez/Getty Images.

to express gender neutrality.18 The use of Latiné, however, is less prevalent in English-­ language literature. In the catalog for the 2020/21 Triennial at New York’s El Museo del Barrio, curators Rodrigo Moura, Susanna V. Temkin, and Elia Alba wrote, “[w]hether we use ‘Hispanic,’ ‘Latino,’ or ‘Latinx,’ or whether people define themselves by racial identity or see themselves through the lens of nationality, lived experiences are at the center of all of these questions of how we define ourselves and the groups with which we identify most.”19 The evolving use of this term and the ensuing debates about it speak not only to the question of how self-identity is formed but also to the fluid boundaries of language. This also speaks to the ways in which categorizations have been imposed on individuals by governments and researchers. As Telles has explained, “[r]ace and ethnicity are not simply a matter of identity or consciousness. They also involve the gaze of the other.”20 The Latinx designer Rio Uribe of the brand Gypsy Sport declared to Elle in 2021, “I wish people understood that Hispanic and Latino people in America are part of a bigger diaspora and a lot of us are still trying to reconnect with our roots and understand who we are.”21 The ambivalence associated with the diasporic experience that Uribe so succinctly describes sometimes places Latinx designers at odds with their counterparts based in Latin American countries. While Latinx designers are constantly faced with the demand of asserting their contributions to their country as a marginalized community in the United States, designers based in their native Latin American countries are released from the imposed burden of focusing their attention on matters of nationality; rather, they are able to engage in critical observations of their localities and the geo-­ political issues that their countries face.

Chapter 1   Introduction  10

Figure 1.7  Model walks on the runway at the Monse fashion show during spring–summer 2021. Fashion Week in New York on September 9, 2020. Photograph by Jonas Gustavsson/Sipa USA/Alamy Live News.

As mentioned previously, the terms Hispanic, Latino/a, and Latinx, are variously used in the United States (at times interchangeably) to refer to people of Latin American heritage living in the States. Although these names address a shared American identity, the evolution of these terms speaks to evolving perspectives around what it means to be of Latin American descent in the United States. In recent years there has been much debate over which term should be the dominant one. During the summer of 2022, with support from the Association of Art Museum Directors, The Museum at FIT hosted intern Frida Loyola. In collaboration with The Museum’s education department, Loyola organized a study to understand how FIT staff, faculty, and students of Latin American descent use and relate to self-identification terms such as Hispanic, Latino/a, Latinx, Latiné, and Spanish as well as how they wish to see their community represented in museum exhibitions. While this study is ongoing, early data22 have shown that most members of the FIT community self-identify as Latino/a. Although only 5 percent self-identified as Latinx, almost all of the participants (93 percent) had heard of the term, and, when asked what term was the most appropriate to describe people of Latin American heritage, the largest percentage responded that all terms listed (Hispanic, Latino/a, Spanish, and Latinx) were appropriate. Based in part on the results of the study at FIT and given the arguments presented in the literature cited above, the editors of this book have decided to use the term Latinx in the title of this publication. Nonetheless, within each essay of this book authors were free to use the terminology of their choice. However, from an institutional perspective, we consider Latinx to be the most inclusive of difference, and its use acknowledges that Latin American heritage is far from monolithic. Since this book is written in conjunction with an exhibition at The Museum at FIT, material culture is favored throughout this book and used to offer a snapshot of the state of Latin American and Latinx fashion design in the twenty-first century from a curatorial perspective. According to The Museum at FIT’s director and chief curator, Dr. Valerie Steele, “one of the most valuable [methodologies in fashion] is the interpretation of objects.”23 For this reason, every thematic essay included in this book is followed by a case study, where the materiality of fashion is highlighted. As dress historians Ingrid Mida and Alexandra Kim explained in their book, The Dress Detective: A Practical Guide to Object-Based Research in Fashion, “the garment or accessory can also reveal the multitude of design choices that may serve to highlight or obscure certain parts of the body, reinforce or neutralize gender, or imbue political or social messages.”24 In addition to object analysis, including the construction of the garments and materials used, authors also analyze these objects using designers’ statements and press releases, reviews from the media, and fashion ephemera. Most of the essays in this book build on the premise that fashion is a medium through which designers explore issues connected to the experiences of people of Latin American heritage. Organized thematically, the essays address several topics associated with Latin American and Latinx fashion in the twenty-first century. These include elegance, Indigenous heritage, art, sustainability, politics, gender, and popular culture. The reader will encounter that a number of designers are discussed in several of the thematic essays from different points of view. In his essay “Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the Twentieth Century,” William Cruz Bermeo delineates a brief history of how Latin America during the last century served as a silent muse for global designers, functioned as a background in fashion publications, and became a source for talent.

Chapter 1   Introduction  12

Figure 1.8  Chilean designer María Cornejo in a photo shoot for i-D magazine at 225 Mott Street, with installation by Jordan Tinker of teddy bear sculptures encased in plaster, 1999. Photograph by Johnny Giunta/ Courtesy of Zero + Maria Cornejo.

Laura Beltrán-Rubio examines how some Latin American designers have drawn inspiration from the region’s Indigenous cultural heritage in her essay, “Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion.” She takes a three-tiered approach and examines how some designers have partnered with Indigenous artists in attempts to build horizontal relationships ethically, while others are prone to fall into practices of cultural appropriation and racial plagiarism. Lastly, she highlights the increasing number of Indigenous designers who are gaining visibility in the region. Tanya Meléndez-Escalante analyzes the work of designers who have made art an integral part of their brands in her essay “Fashion and Art: Trans-discipline and Cultural Intersections in the Work of Designers of Latin American Heritage.” Meléndez-Escalante looks at the ways in which designers collaborate with artists and curators and how several designers incorporate art movements including minimalism as well as practices such as performance art. In “Charting Multiple Paths to Sustainability in Latin American and Latinx Fashion,” Melissa Marra-Alvarez explains how designers are increasingly building upon the three pillars of sustainable thinking—ecology, economics, and humanity—to cultivate a more responsible approach to fashion design and production. Through the development of ethical business practices and the empowerment of native communities and economies, many of the designers and organizations examined in this essay are working to mitigate fashion industry challenges such as over-production, over-consumption, waste, and attendant environmental degradation. Hanayrá Negreiros expands on identity politics and race relations by mapping the work of three female designers Dayana Molina (Brazil), Carla Fernández (Mexico), and Brenda Equihua (United States). In “Rethinking Fashion as a Political Act: Challenges and Possibilities in Latin American Dressing” politics and fashion are understood as powerful platforms for rethinking local and personal concerns such as race, ethnicity, and migration. “Ropa sin género: Contemporary Latinx and Latinomerican Genderless Fashion” by Alexis Carreño addresses the work of five genderless fashion designers: Bárbara Sánchez-Kane (Mexico), Willy Chavarria (Mexico-USA), Raul Lopez (Dominican Republic-USA), Barragán (Mexico-USA), and Mateo Velázquez (Colombia) to analyze how they have approached gender binarism from their cultural contexts. In “Latin American Elegance: An Intercultural Dialogue” Ana Elena Mallet proposes that in Latin America elegance can be understood as connected to the controversial idea of mestizaje. She argues that Latin American designers based in the United States have utilized generalized tropes of Latin American elegance, while their counterparts in Brazil, Mexico, and Colombia integrate the concept of mestizaje (as a blend of cultures but also of tradition and modernity) in their understanding of elegance in contradistinction to the standard Euro-American perception of it. Michelle McVicker’s essay, “Pop Cultural References in Twenty-first-Century Latinx Fashion,” looks at how the subcultures of pachucos and cholos have influenced the work of Willy Chavarria and Víctor Barragán. Additionally, she explores the prominence of American sneaker culture and how companies like Nike and Adidas have created products that appeal to Latinx consumers in the United States. Although the book is organized thematically, it quickly becomes clear how porous these themes really are and how easily they overlap.The topics are not mutually exclusive

Chapter 1   Introduction  14

Figure 1.9  Haider Ackermann fall–winter 2017/2018. Photograph by Peter White/Getty Images.

Figure 1.10  A model walks the runway during the Johanna Ortiz fashion presentation for Colombiamoda 2016 at Biblioteca Publica Belen Medellín, July 2016, Medellin, Colombia. Photograph by Oscar Garces/LatinContent via Getty Images.

and the boundaries between them are easily blurred. In contemporary Latin American fashion, evolving ideas of elegance easily connect with both art and ethnicity. Sustainability is both a political act and deeply rooted in Indigenous heritage, while gender crosses over into popular culture and politics. As a result, the work of a number of designers is examined through multiple lenses including art, queer and gender theory, cultural appropriation, cultural authentication, racial plagiarism, popular culture, and sustainability. The designers represented in each essay were selected by their respective authors and should not be considered an exhaustive roster of contemporary Latin American fashion talent. On the contrary, the profiling of the designers considered in this work just scratches the surface, and this book should not be considered an all-encompassing anthology of Latin American and Latinx fashion designers. Those who are featured, however, have been successful in both their home locality and in other areas of the Latin American region, and the various examinations included here highlight their contributions to global fashion. It is the editors’ sincere hope that readers of this volume are inspired to explore the work of Latin American designers and to investigate the sociocultural dynamics that make Latin American fashion design a topic worthy of continued study. May there be more books about Latin American and Latinx fashion in the years to come.

Chapter 1   Introduction  16

Figure 1.11  Armando Takeda, autumn–winter 2021 collection. ARMANDO TAKEDA.

NOTES 1 Robb Young, “Latin America’s $160 Billion Fashion Opportunity,” Business of Fashion (May 18, 2017), https://www. businessoffashion.com/articles/global-markets/latin-americas160-billion-fashion-opportunity/. 2 It is worth noting that in recent years there has been much debate in academic circles over which term—Hispanic, Latino/a, or Latinx—should be used to describe people of Latin American descent in the US. We have chosen to use Latinx but have left the choice of which term to use in their own essays up to the individual authors. 3 José Blanco F. and Raúl J.Vázquez López, eds., “Introduction,” Fashion, Style & Popular Culture 3, no. 1 (2015): 3–6, https://doi. org/10.1386/fspc.3.1.3_1. 4 Ibid. 5 Regina Root, “Introduction: Fashion, Agency, and Policy,” in The Handbook of Fashion Studies, ed. Sandy Black, Amy de la Haye, et al. (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 347. 6 Regina Root, “Introduction,” in The Latin American Fashion Reader (London: Bloomsbury, 2005), 1. 7 Ibid. 8 Recently, the academic journal, Fashion, Style, and Popular Culture, devoted an issue to Latin American and Latino fashion in 2016, and a second volume is in process. MeXicana Fashions: Politics, Self-Adornment and Identity Construction, ed. Aída Hurtado and Norma E. Cantú (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2020) and Regina Root, Couture and Consensus: Fashion and Politics in Postcolonial Argentina (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2010) each focus on only one specific country. The Latin American Fashion Reader, ed. Regina A. Root (Oxford: Berg, 2005) offers a series of case studies that span multiple centuries and examine both traditional dress and fashion. 9 Nancy K. Rivenburgh and Valerie Manusov, “Decentering as a Research Design Strategy for International and Intercultural Research,” Journal of International Communication 16, no. 1 (2010): 23–40, https://doi.org/10.1080/13216597.2010.9674757. 10 In the past twenty years a number of publications and exhibitions have taken a decentering approach to the study of fashion. See, for example, The Latin American Fashion Reader, ed. Regina A. Root (Oxford: Berg, 2005), Fashion’s World Cities, ed.

Christopher Breward and David Gilbert (Oxford: Berg, 2006), and Modern Fashion Traditions: Negotiating Tradition and Modernity through Fashion, ed. M. Angela Jansen and Jennifer Craik (London: New York: Bloomsbury, 2018). Within The Museum at FIT, exhibitions such as Global Fashion Capitals (2015) and Black Fashion Designers (2016) also contributed to a more cohesive and inclusive look at the designers and countries shaping global fashion. 11 Ofelia Schutte, “Cultural Alterity: Cross-cultural Communication and Feminist Theory in North-South Contexts,” in Decentering the Center: Philosophy for a Multicultural, Postcolonial, and Feminist World, ed. Uma Narayan and Sandra Harding (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000), 50. 12 Edward Telles, Pigmentocracies: Ethnicity, Race, and Color in Latin America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2014), 10. 13 Ibid., 33. 14 Ibid., 30. 15 Antonio Campos, “What’s the Difference between Hispanic, Latino and Latinx?” University of California, https://www. universityofcalifornia.edu/news/choosing-the-right-word-­ hispanic-latino-and-latinx. 16 Rodrigo Moura, Susanna V. Temkin, and Elia Alba, “A Note on the Title,” Estamos Bien: La Trienal 20/21 (New York: El Museo del Barrio, 2021), 24. 17 See the website Call Me Latine, https://callmelatine.com/faq/. 18 Ibid. 19 Moura, Temkin, and Alba, “A Note on the Title,” 29. 20 Telles, Pigmentocracies, 10. 21 Clarie Stern, “4 Latinx Designers Shattering the Mold,” Elle (August 25, 2021), https://www.elle.com/fashion/a37281668/ latinx-designers-breaking-boundaries/. 22 Data as of August 14, 2022. 23 Valerie Steele, “A Museum is More than a ClothesBag,” Fashion Theory 2 no. 4: 327–335, https://doi. org/10.2752/136270498779476109. 24 Ingrid Mida and Alexandra Kim, The Dress Detective: A Practical Guide to Object-Based Research in Fashion (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 16.

Chapter 1   Introduction  18

19

2

Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century William Cruz Bermeo

T

he fashion industry is the result of a complex set of interactions between numerous agents and institutions. Among the agents are fashion designers, journalists, influencers, content creators and editors, buyers, and retailers, to name just a few. A concise list of the institutions involved covers designers’ councils; fashion schools; and associations or any other organization aimed at organizing the creation, production, circulation, consumption, and disposal of fashion.1 This chapter addresses fashion as an industry, focusing on the contributions from Latino talents and cultures to the European and American fashion industry and their relationships with it in the twentieth century. Doing so raises questions about the contributions of Latinx people to Euro-American fashion and style, about Latino imagery and cultures as an inspiration source, and about the treatment given to both Latin American landscapes and Latinx individuals in fashion images. The matter also involves the arrival of Latino talents international markets and

Figure 2.1  Oscar de la Renta, spring– summer 1993, ready-to-wear collection. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/GammaRapho via Getty Images.

21

fashion systems, and, finally, it invites inquiry into the emphasis given by the press to the associations between those talents’ styles and their origins.

Latino Imagery and Culture, a Silent Muse Since the mid-nineteenth century, when the Parisian fashion industry established itself as the ruling force in Western fashion, the European fashion industry has been taking inspiration from cultures and peoples from all over the world. However, some scholars are critical about how these inspirations are used and raise issues of cannibalization, exoticism, objectification, appropriation, and stereotyping of cultures. Regardless, curator Andrew Bolton, head curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute in New York City, questions discourses that allege exoticism, primitivism, and orientalism in such fashion. Bolton recognizes that orientalism “has taken negative connotations of Western supremacy and segregation” since the publication of Orientalism by Edward Said (1978). However, he favors a more positivistic examination of orientalism, less politicized and more as a locus of creativity or as an appreciative cultural response by the West to its encounters with the East.2 However controversial this approach may be today, it was not so before the current politicization of fashion. Throughout the twentieth century fashion could resort unrestrictedly to any source belonging to any culture in the world. Today, however, as Gilles Lipovetsky argues, fashion processes are framed in “ethical, inclusive, and ecological terms.”This “requires fashion to hybridize frivolity with Ethics, Aesthetics, and Ecology” and replaces the previous century’s “carefree creativity” with the current demand for “eco-responsible creativity.”3 More specifically, this has brought fashion to the arrival of an era of responsible creativity. Therefore, Euro-American fashion designers drew upon Latino imagery and cultures as a source of inspiration but did not do so, however, in the same measure that they drew from Eastern peoples and cultures. For instance, in the ethnographic material collected by designer Jeanne Lanvin throughout her life, Chinese and Japanese garments stand out.4 Even so, in fashion museum collections, early fashion press, and recent designer collections, Latin America serves as a creative source. For example, the Kyoto Costume Institute currently includes a robe de style by Jeanne Lanvin, designed in the mid-1920s, which is embroidered with Aztec patterns on the skirt. Another is a summer 1949 creation by Jacques Fath, a cadmium-yellow sheath dress accessorized with a red belt and hat, the surface of which mimics Incan textile motifs, at the Victoria & Albert Museum. In the 1950s, American designer Claire McCardell produced a bathing suit with red and yellow prints based on Panamanian Guna tribe motifs which is in The Museum at FIT collection. The examples are numerous, but the purpose here is not to make a complete inventory but rather to confirm the presence of these references. The fashion press from the twentieth century also offers some insight into the artisanal products from Latin America that have had some influence on designers’ creations, as evidenced by hundreds of articles and images run by Vogue, to mention just one medium. One example of this is an editorial in the February 1, 1935, issue, featuring two Panama hats by French designer Jean Patou. This type of hat originated in Ecuador. By the nineteenth century the style and mode of manufacture had spread to Colombia

Figure 2.2  Vivienne Westwood, ensemble, Buffalo Girls collection, 1982–1983, England. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  22

and become a significant consumer goods export to the United States.5 After being popularized by engineers working on the construction of the Panama Canal, this hat entered the international fashion vocabulary. By the 1930s others such as American milliner John Frederics were already making their own versions, though moving away from the original native design. A John Frederics hat in The Museum at FIT collection is catalogued as a Panama hat, evidencing that the name was used subsequently to label any straw hat widebrimmed in front but gradually narrowing to the back. Among late twentieth-century designers who took inspiration from Latino imagery and culture was Vivienne Westwood. For Savage and Buffalo Girls, her collections between 1982 and 1983, Westwood drew on the style of the cholas, the Peruvian women from the Andes Mountains who usually wear bowler hats and full skirts, thus revealing the sartorial hybridization between European colonists and Andean natives. Jean Paul Gaultier also quoted from vernacular clothes in Latin America. In 2007 he made use of the sombrero vueltiao, a typical hat from the Colombian Caribbean coast. By styling it as a pirate bicorn hat for Pirates, his spring–summer 2008 collection, the designer ignored any meaning given to this hat by its native wearers and used it as just one component to structure his own message. Perhaps not surprisingly, there were no accusations of misappropriation of culture over these fashion statements because they appeared before the politicization of fashion. On the contrary, the Colombian press, for instance, celebrated and clapped when Gaultier quoted the sombrero vueltiao, considering it a tribute to the local culture. Meanwhile, Nicole Phelps, who reviewed the collection for Vogue, explained the conceptual threads of Gaultier’s show by describing an imaginary pirate ship traveling to North America, Africa, and France and plundering cultural references.6 She made absolutely no mention of the referencing of a traditional Colombian hat. Citations to Latino imagery and cultures have included artistic icons such as the Mexican painter Frida Kahlo or political personalities such as the Argentinian First Lady, Evita Peron. Again, Gaultier in 1997 drew on Kahlo for his spring–summer 1998 readyto-wear collection. Laird Borrelli-Persson described this as a “cultural excursion–style” in which Gaultier fused Marilyn Manson and Frida Kahlo, detailing that models “sported unibrows à la Kahlo.”7 Not surprisingly, Borrelli-Persson referred mainly to the Kahlo reference, not only because the Mexican painter was an explicit topic of the collection but also because she has had a long history on the radar of the American fashion press. That history began with her first appearance in Vogue in 1937 as one of the “Señoras of Mexico” and the “Rise of Another Rivera,” an article about her first exhibition in United States in 1938. Thus, her popularity as an attractive icon for Euro-American fashion cannot be said to be recent. Both articles, especially the last one, praised her native clothes noting that the woolen strings plaited into her black hair, make-up, and gaily colored Tehuana blouses and skirts made Kahlo “a product of her art.”8 Nonetheless, in Borrelli-Persson’s review of Gaultier’s collection, other references to Latin America were missing. In her comments she failed to point out the conspicuous presence of Panama hats and some stylings reminiscent of the way women in Latin American used to drape their shawls around themselves in colonial times, whether those were rebozos (Mexico), phullus (Bolivia), or líquiras (Colombia). Needless to say, the chromatics in that collection—bright red/green/orange—did not exclusively reference Kahlo; they also reflected the color explosion usually associated with Latin America. This is a

Figure 2.3  Jean Paul Gaultier, spring–summer 2008 ready-towear. Model wearing a Colombian sombrero vueltiao, styled as a pirate bicorn hat. Paris, 2007. Photograph by Toni Anne Barson Archive/ WireImage.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  24

long-established trope about the region, reflected in the American fashion press as well as elsewhere. For instance, as early as 1942 Vogue had stated, “These Amigo Mio colours (Latin America Inspired) are excellent ambassadors to [the] resorts of both [of the] Americas.”9 Chili-red, blue, yellow, green, and pink were mentioned as approved Latin American colors for fashion. However, Vogue advises pairing these colors with a “black sweater,” in a sense tempering these hues with a more subdued color. Years later, in his seminal text The System of Objects, Jean Baudrillard echoes this way of thinking when he writes, “Colours have psychological and moral overtones,” adding that “[t]he traditional treatment of colour … rejects it as a complete value,” and black “retains the meaning of distinction, of culture, as opposed to the whole range of vulgar colours.”10 With this reading, the subtext of that headline posits Latin American color as unrefined versus the more civilized Euro-American black. The press reports cited above expose a very limited ability to recognize the presence of Latin American references in designers’ creations. This absence of appreciation made Latino cultures and imagery a silent muse in spite of their conspicuous visibility on the runway. It is hardly possible to maintain that the references of non-Latinx designers such as those mentioned above were the result of a politicized or malicious approach to Latino imagery and cultures. Such efforts could be seen as appreciation made from ignorance. However, exoticism has been an approach to and a strategy that allows for accelerating the novelty logic that moves the fashion industry. According to Jennifer Craik, the term exoticism can “refer either to the enticing, fetishised quality of a fashion or style, or to foreign or rare motifs in fashion.”11 Moreover, Craik explains that “fashion systems are built on the interrelationship and tension between exotic and familiar codes.”12 In that vein it may be said that, as an inspiration source, Latino imagery and cultures work in Euro-American fashion as part of its design strategy to keep that tension.

Latin America, a Background for Pictures Fashion photographers have also explored Latin American urban and rural landscapes, largely as picturesque, mythical settings for fashion spreads, embellished with Caucasian models in clothes styled by Euro-American brands and designers. The first traces of the region’s use as a setting for fashion spreads are found circa 1948, when Vogue sent the fashion photographer Irving Penn to Lima. The resulting images were delivered the next year in two separate stories and editions: “Flying Down to Lima” on February 15, 1949, and “Christmas at Cuzco” in the single issue published in December 1949. Each story takes a different approach to the place, people, landscapes, fashion, and dress. Penn shot the first story as a commercial assignment and then traveled to Cuzco to shoot in a more artistic way. For the first story Penn went for the picturesque and for the latter for the exotic. Defining both terms will provide some insight into understanding how Latino scenes have functioned under the gaze of fashion. Classic esthetics defines the picturesque as a formal quality, related to the quality of the pictorial. Picturesque is also that object, vision, or perspective of nature that deserves to be pictured. As for its content, the term picturesque is not limited only to uninhabited nature; the rural setting, that is, a place where nature and humankind collaborate, is a scene that is the essence of picturesque.13 On the other hand, Edward Said and Victor Segalen’s reflections on exoticism reassert Baudrillard’s idea about antiquity, in time and space, as a

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  26

Figure 2.4  Inhabitants of Cuzco at the Plaza de Armas wearing their traditional clothes. Peru, 1945. They represent the nature of the local inhabitants photographed both by Irving Penn in 1948 and by Martin Chambi during his career. © Hulton-Deutsch/Hulton-Deutsch Collection/Corbis via Getty Images.

crucial factor for exoticism. Antiquity seduces. Said identifies the Orient as “a branch of exotica,” explaining that “[i]n the Orient one suddenly confronted un-imaginable antiquity … boundless distance.”14 Meanwhile, Segalen stated,“Exoticism does not only exist in space, but [it] is equally dependent on time,” an “escape from the contemptible and petty present.”15 The logic of orientalism, as described above, seems to pervade strongly the image-­ making produced in Latin America from the gaze of fashion. At the end of the day, orientalism is one of the many sides of nineteenth-century European colonialism, which shares part of its logics with American cultural colonialism exerted on Latin America during the next century. In “Flying Down to Lima,” the model plays the role of an American tourist. As a result, the photographer’s gaze is expeditionary, a two weeks’ tour contemplating Lima and El

Latin America, a Background for Pictures  27

Callao as picturesque settings, focused on places such as the streets and their mood, a bar, colonial architecture, and historic places. Sometimes captured pictures involve locals such as children or a bootblack, infusing these images with a fabricated anthropological whiff. The pristine model and her meticulous clothes contrast with the locals’ material poverty, suggesting a visual pleasure by capturing what is considered as “new or uncommon.”16 In fact, that pleasure is usually associated with the “kaleidoscopic vision of the tourist.”17 It is that vision that pervades “Flying Down to Lima.” Penn’s lens inquires into places and people, as if a tourist’s lens captured them just because of their newness and singularity. They work as props for a scene in which the model appears introspective, closed in on herself, projecting the aura of a mythical creature so sought after in early fashion photography despite her closeness to mortals and the settings that surround her, which have pictorial qualities and are, by extension, picturesque. “Christmas at Cuzco” takes another approach, the exotic. Segalen categorized exoticism as a “sensation,”“which is nothing other than the notion of difference, the perception of diversity, the knowledge that something is other than one’s self.”18 This notion provides an optimistic version of an issue that today is more typically assumed to be detrimental to the cultures observed by the exoticist. Notwithstanding, Segalen’s ideas provide insight into how modern thinking perceives the issue. After all is said and done, Penn was a man whose vision was shaped in the twilight of modernity. However, it is his ability to conceive the difference that is seen in “Christmas at Cuzco.” Eleven pictures compose this color-portrait series; all the sitters are native to Cuzco; women, children, and men wear their traditional dress sprinkled with modern items, an intermingling fashioned by their already long exposure to and interchange with Western culture. “Shoes, a European influence,” reads one caption, highlighting a pair of women’s boots, highly fashionable at the dawn of twentieth century, proudly sported by the sitter while she carries her baby on her back. Although the scenes show Panama hats and bowlers, these are not emphasized in any caption. This invites a questioning of the pervading view of societies that are not in the contemporary European and American mold as being stuck in time and therefore incapable of transforming their dress and setting their own fashions. Any culture and its traditions are always works in progress, and a culture’s interactions with another culture or cultures are part of that. As Homi K. Bhabha explains, “An important feature of colonial discourse is its dependence on the concept of ‘fixity’ in the ideological construction of otherness.”19 The sitters look spontaneous in their body, facial, and dress expressions. In their staring at the camera the reader can feel confronted with the past. In fact, Vogue asserted that Cuzco was “the centre of the old Inca world and the only contemporary town from which one can visit the ruins of that extinct civilization.” These pictures by Penn expose the “forceful and curious reaction to a shock felt by someone of strong individuality in response to some object [or individual] whose distance from oneself he alone can perceive and savor.”20 In Segalen’s words, this is the power of exoticism, since “[o]nly those who have a strong individuality can sense Difference.”21 Nonetheless, even more remarkable is the attention paid to dress, as much as by Penn as by the anonymous author of the article. Textiles were central in pre-Columbian and colonial cultures and in economic practices all around the Andean world. Hence, any pictorial representation of ancient Andean peoples is expected to address the issue to some extent, and “Christmas at Cuzco” does it. With a photographic background and

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  28

composition reminiscent of late nineteenth-century social photography, which surely drew on the work of Martin Chambi, a local photographer, these pictures allowed American readers to appreciate the textiles and qualities of native dress. A viewer can almost feel the roughness of clothes woven of wool from llamas or sheep, the uneven sewing, and their density and weight. The shoot also captured the variations in dress that occur even in a highly traditional society. Clothing emphasizes the dignity and gravity of its wearers—or their jokes, as happens in the picture of two men wearing masks. The article accompanying the series is explanatory but not necessarily accurate, as it reports that by then cotton was “unknown in Peru.” This is certainly not accurate; cotton fabrics have been found there that date back 4,500 years.22 Notwithstanding this, the comment underlines the prominence of wool and strength of tradition, adding that “[b] oth men and women spin as they walk along the roads carrying their spindles, which look like small wheels.”23 Then, the utopian idea of an immutable tradition is weakened again, since women often added “brilliant-coloured skirts … in magenta, saffron, cerulean blue, and poison pink.” It was usually believed that such colors’ intensity came from strange native roots, but the author states that the observed intensity was obtained by using “European products,” namely, German dyes from I. G. Farben “sold in the Cuzco general store.” In fact, if anything would later define Latino cultures, it is hybridization, and commercial practices are, of course, also part of culture. As García Canclini suggested, modernization and cosmopolitanism can also provide a repertoire of symbols for the construction of identity, since identities are not self-contained and ahistorical essences.24 Both of the stories using Penn’s photos take different approaches. The first was featured as a regular fashion spread, notwithstanding the iconoclastic idea, for the time, of travel to a picturesque South American setting for a fashion story shoot. The second story was published as artwork, as evidenced by a note from Edward Steichen, equating Penn’s abilities to those of an artist rendering his sitters as a sculptor interested in form, or composing the figures in relation to space rather than to the rectangle of the print. However,“Flying Down to Lima” has more to tell us about the relationship between the Latin American and Euro-American fashion systems. The article boasted of sixty pounds of clothing brought to Peru for a two weeks’ photo shoot, all from American retailers and brands. Understandably, there was no room for Peruvian talent since the magazine was the result of the interactions with its own market and audience. The point is that this fashion story set a visual trope and a set of practices that would subsequently be repeated ad nauseam well into the twenty-first century in Euro-American fashion image-making in Latin American territories. On one hand, the artisanal products used as styling accessories were used without any credit to their creators. Beyond the use of these products as symbols, they were artisanal products made by master artisans which involved production networks with their own economic dynamics. If fashion spreads are to some extent a promotional mechanism, it would seem to be only proper to credit the creators of those items. On the other hand, there is the stylization of clothes akin to colonial stereotypes, such as the two pictures in “Flying Down to Lima,” labeled as a “documentary from the land itself.” One depicts the “tapadas,” a type of shawl worn as a headdress, “once worn by limeñas for mystery and disguise.” The other displays “a black velvet hat of the Andalusian gipsy, once worn by bullfighters in Peru.” Additionally, in another picture a model wears a Cordoban hat characterizing a bullfighter; as is blatantly obvious, all these references are more Spanish than

Latin America, a Background for Pictures  29

Figure 2.5 and 2.6  “El Dorado,” Photograph by Mario Testino. Vogue, September 2012. ©Mario Testino.

Peruvian, more related to the Spanish cultural impact on Latin America. The depiction of locals, captured candidly or consciously staged for the camera but always contrasted with models whose attitudes and interactions configure an asymmetrical visual hierarchy, is also a key to this trope. Since 1948, Peru has frequently been the scene of various fashion editorials, regularly treated with the imperialistic whiff of a nineteenth-century explorer, both in their visual and textual rhetoric.This is especially so in those featured in American Vogue: “Inca-­ Metrics,” shot by Norman Parkinson, for the July 1966 issue; “The Explorers: Fashion

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  30

that’s all yours for the discovery …” by John Cowan, October 15, 1968; or “El Dorado,” by Mario Testino, in the single issue for September 2012. “Inca-Metrics” is unfortunate in its treatment if the concept of fashion politicization as defined by the French philosopher Gilles Lipovetsky is considered. There, Inca patterns openly transferred to socks, dresses, and shoes by American brands are on display, all against the Chimu ruins of Trujillo or Cuzco locations as background. One picture is especially troubling, “The little girl … in Cuzco dress.” There, a Cuzco girl sits on a piece of colonial furniture with a submissive expression on her face looking down and left, which makes her look vulnerable. Next to her the model’s legs show over and above the young girl, almost imposing themselves upon her, thus configuring an unfortunate visual hierarchy. There, as Susan Sontag puts it, “The photographer is [a] supertourist, an extension of the anthropologist, visiting natives and bringing back news of their exotic doings and strange gear.”25 In addition, a pair of sandals are labeled as Incan, but their configuration reflects Mola techniques from the Guna tribe (Colombian-Panamanian), and their geometric patterns are of indeterminate origin, as they belong to one of several specific aboriginal communities which share cosmographies, even though they do not share the same territory and may never have met each other.26 The designer, credited as “Bernardo’s,” could, of course, have made a personal decision to interpret Guna patterns in such a way that contributed to that indeterminacy. As in orientalism, which presents all Eastern peoples as a monolithic whole, sometimes Latino peoples have been apprehended in the same way, as a whole with no individuality. As a fashion editor at Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue, Diana Vreeland led a period that could well be called the “The-Eye-Has-to-Travel” era. This is characterized by trips around the world to picturesque or exotic locations with the most celebrated models and photographers of the time. However, regardless of her cutting-edge instinct, Vreeland was in many aspects a woman of the late nineteenth century, in possession of a flamboyant set of fantasies about her childhood during the Belle Époque, an era from an imperialistic past with its whole implied imagery of adventurers, explorers, and mythical and exotic worlds. To some extent, that vision underscored the symbolic content of image-making produced under her tenure. In that vein, John Cowan’s shoot, “The Explorers: Fashion that’s all yours for the discovery …” suggests an expedition to the unknown, the lost world of Machu Pichu ruins. As is well known, Peru is celebrated for its traditional wool textiles, and the story featured some ruanas, deftly assembled and in tune with the outfits on display, but they all came from a store in Greenwich Village. That they were not of Peruvian manufacture was not relevant to the magazine; overriding all was the fact that they had been shot at the mythical and overwhelming Machu Pichu. The game of photographer as a tourist invading the life of natives or rural everyday life seeking the contrast between pristine and rough sprang up again in French Vogue, December 1969. For this issue, photographer Franco Rubartelli took a long journey through the Amazon River and the Andean Mountains, touching Brazil and Colombia with Veruschka as the model. Model and photographer were both part of the published story, and it is noteworthy that both were dressed as nineteenth-century explorers— Veruschka in a safari dress reminiscent of one from Yves Saint Laurent in 1968, which, by the way, was derived from colonist garb in Africa. When the model interacted with locals, Rubartelli captured the rupture of the quotidian, recalling Sontag’s analysis of

Latin America, a Background for Pictures  31

tourist hordes whose presence can change a native ceremony, which returns to its natural progression after being photographed, a process that leads to the capture of a rather distorted image of reality.27 Although this is fashion photography, which seeks to reflect fantasy rather than reality, the use of native garments and accessories is in the same vein as “Flying Down to Lima” (1948): no credits, no artisans, no promotional aim, just a set of props that imbue images with the necessary edge to emphasize the picturesque, exotic, and mythical atmosphere. Even at the beginning of the twenty-first century, when Arthur Elgort was sent to Brazil to photograph “White Heat,” a fashion spread starring Ethiopian model Liya Kebede, the stylist’s wardrobe selection did not include garments by Brazilian designers, a notable omission considering that by then Brazil was already on the map of global fashion geography. In addition, there were no comments or information about baianas’ white dresses, the native garment of the women of Salvador de Bahía, central in the story. Elizabeth Kutesko points out Vogue’s omission of the symbolic value of the dress and how it functions in the “White Heat” spread as “a symbol of indigeneity to didactically lead the eye toward Kebede, who is almost two foot [sic] taller” than the woman at her left, finding that “[t]here is a recognizably asymmetric dynamic of power between globally successful supermodel Kebede and the indigenous baiana.”28 Mario Testino returned to his native Lima to shoot a fashion spread for Vogue’s September 2012 issue. “El Dorado” purports to be a trip to Peru where the late model Stella Tennant “packs a richly and embellished wardrobe as luxe as the fabled treasures of the Incan empire.”Then in 2014 he did a shoot for “Dark Horse,” a story “inspired by the lush natural beauty and equestrian heritage of Peru.” In the first story, despite of the irrefutable wardrobe attributes, the visual rhetoric works in the old-fashioned manner, with a picturesque approach and staging that implied an asymmetric dynamic of power between model and locals. Furthermore, there is something disruptive in the textual rhetoric, an emphasis on the egalitarian nature of the Inca Empire luxe and the luxe of European high fashion. Something rather similar happens in “Dark Horse” in both visual and textual rhetoric. Photographed at the luxury Hacienda Mamacona with magnificent Peruvian paso fino horses, this display included smiling, fine-looking Latinos splendidly garbed in their alpaca blankets and chalán (horsemen) costumes grouped around a model. By focusing on the equestrian heritage in Peru, the story pinpointed a specific element of contemporary Peruvian identity that belongs to its upper classes, thus avoiding the customary power asymmetry in this sort of image. Ironically, there were no Peruvian designers among those whose creations were included in the shoot. Instead, the story referenced a “nubby multiknit turtleneck sweater” by Calvin Klein getting into the spirit of “alpaca knits rendered in folk patterns [that are] Peru’s fashion calling card.” Finally, one thing is clear here. Arbitrating the past with the moral filters of the present is complicated and at times problematic. If anything, however, as Barthes states, “The photograph does not necessarily say what is no longer, but only and certain what has been” and “ … the Photograph’s essence is to ratify what it represents.”29

Latin America in the Search of Fashion The absence of Latinx designers in fashion spreads such as those detailed above could also be explained as reflecting the regional commercial relationships with Europe and America, since fashion is not only a cultural practice but also an economic one. At the

Figure 2.7  Argentinian designer Pablo Ramírez runway during Latin America Fashion at Colombiamoda 2009. Medellin, Colombia. Photograph by José Luis Ruiz.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  32

beginning of the 1990s, most countries in Latin America embraced the political guidelines of the Washington Agreement and thus reduced their customs duties, though they did not do so globally. By opening their economies to international competitiveness, they joined in the globalization wave. Protectionism was the rule in economic policy before then, so huge textile and garment industries were developed throughout Latin America from the late nineteenth until well into the twentieth century. However, despite the large scale of these industries, they were mainly oriented toward the domestic customer more than the international one. In many cases, maquila services and textiles were the foremost global connection with international markets. In this context, it can hardly be expected that it was possible to build fashion brands with a global reach comparable to those of Euro-American houses. This does not mean that emergent fashion systems were nonexistent in Latin America. It simply suggests that protectionism added to the difficulties of exporting and made it hard to pave the way for building fashion brands with a global scope and, by extension, a media presence. Colombia exemplifies how the transition from protectionism to free trade required Latin American countries to think of fashion beyond just textile or garment production. As sociologist Yuniya Kawamura argues, “fashion is not a material product but a symbolic product.”30 In other words, fashion involves those intangible values added to textiles and garments, and the designers’ work is decisive in creating such values. The 1987 establishment of Inexmoda, an institution that began working on bridging the gap between the textile industry and emerging designers, was momentous for the Colombian fashion industry. It opened new spaces that would give a local status to domestic designers and promote them abroad. This includes efforts such as Colombiamoda (Colombian fashion week), one of the longest-running fashion fairs in South America, established in 1990. Inexmoda deployed a set of strategies including international press tours, calls to international buyers, and runways featuring other successful Latinx designers such as Oscar de la Renta and Carolina Herrera. By incorporating these designers, the first-generation leadership of the organization managed to position Colombia as a contact point, first for the domestic fashion industry and then for Latinx designers. This was not an easy task. In the late 1990s Colombia was fighting a war against drug trafficking, and the social climate was tense. As the New York Times would later concede, “Colombia’s Inexmoda … has been part of an effort to change the national story from one of drug-running to one of design.”31 Consequently, by 2008 Colombiamoda was already the convergence point for a new generation of talented Latinx designers who were raised and emerged in the context of an economic policy open to global competitiveness. Spanish journalist Pepe Reblet, a regular on the global fashion circuit, decided to sit in the front row of fashion weeks throughout Latin America. “I came in search of great creators. If there were [these] in literature, film and music, why shouldn’t there be in fashion?” said Reblet to journalist Angélica Gallón.32 By 2003 Reblet had started a Latinx designers’ runway in Madrid Fashion Week (SIMM), but in 2008 he decided to move it to Colombia, reflecting the prestige achieved by Colombiamoda. As a result, in Medellín the LAF runway, an acronym for “Latino América Fashion,” brought together designers such as Julia y Renata and Trista (Mexico), Pablo Ramírez and Vero Ivaldi (Argentina), Camilo Alvarez and Lina Cantillo (Colombia), Andrea Llosa (Peru), and Nicole Jiménez (Dominican Republic), among others. “Medellín is a city to discover,

Figure 2.8  Alexandre Herchcovitch, beaded jumpsuit, spring 2007, Brazil. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Alexandre Herchcovitch.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  34

and it has a thriving industry. Putting all these elements in a cocktail shaker and adding the experience of an institution such as Inexmoda as well as the LAF runway should be more than enough to turn Medellín into a catwalk on the international circuit,”33 opined Reblet. Gathering together those names was possible because, as Gallón agreed, during those years fashion culture throughout Latin America had grown. From 1976 to 1989, the Argentine textile industry faced a slow but growing decline due to the lack of a global industrial policy that would allow it to survive economic measures such as the opening of the market to importation. Then, with the democratic restoration in 1983, Argentina embarked on a period of strengthening national identity, manifested in film productions, rock music in Spanish, and new young lifestyles mediated by music. However, in fashion, designers appeared to have followed global trends but, between the late 1980s and early 1990s, there was a search for new guidelines for design, and designers started to think of visual images rather than clothes. It was then that the term design entered into Argentine vocabulary and universities, which was a significant moment in the construction of an emerging fashion culture based on the notion of the designer.34 As Argentina advanced in the 2000s, local and traditional garment industries turned from production to commercialization. Consequently, the emphasis on the auteur designer was a reaction to homogenization and especially to the search for an identity in Argentinian design. Strategies reminiscent of those implemented by Colombia were put into motion, and the launch of an official fashion week with international fashion attendees such as Isabella Blow or Paco Rabanne was set. Design contests supported by companies were initiated in order to promote new talents and strengthen relationships between entrepreneurs and designers.35 However, Argentinians were focused on putting Buenos Aires on the official calendar of the global fashion circuit more than on consolidating the reputation of the city as the Latin American fashion hub. Back in 1990 Brazil was also introducing a new commercial policy within its borders. As with most countries in the region, Brazil lacked a platform to support and promote its designers until 1995. At that time São Paulo Fashion Week was launched in order to organize a domestic fashion calendar that meshed with global fashion calendars. Just as the Argentinians had done, São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro each established their own fashion week and started by looking at Europe and the United States more than to local neighborhoods. In Brazil, which shares unpopulated borders with ten other Latin American countries, the lack of daily interactions with its neighbors could have had encouraged the historical notion that it is a nation with its back to its own geographic location and its face toward overseas. Certainly by 2000 Brazil was “the most intriguing place on the planet.” With a boom in Brazilian fashion models and a population of 173 million, it had a “thriving moneyed class and a business-friendly environment that had exchanged punitive pre-1990 trade tariffs for a global welcome mat.”36 Evidently, the combination of a favorable economic, political, and educational milieu; strong tactical press and marketing; and fashion weeks themselves created an atmosphere favorable to designers such as Alexandre Herchcovitch, Fause Haten, Carlos Miele, and Amir Slama. In the meantime, Brazilian designers were fighting against exoticization and tropicalism and were going for darker and deconstructed design as represented by Herchcovitch or for the carefully analytical design such as that favored by Ronaldo Fraga. This was not a minor issue; scholars and major players

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  36

in the fashion world talked about it and still do. Even so, by 2008 the New York Times’s T Magazine was observing that Rio could well give lessons to Medellín, Barcelona, and Moscow on how to host a fashion week.37 Latino pop music swept the 1999 Grammy Awards. There was a vibrant phenomenon of cross-over music with Latinx artists such as Ricky Martin, Shakira, Marc Anthony, and Jennifer Lopez. This rise of Latino talents in music might possibly have paved the way for a rise of Latino cultural production in other fields such as that of fashion. However, Latino fashion design experienced no such upsurge. To insert themselves into global markets, Latinx designers had to deal with difficult conditions such as the lack of training in competitiveness, the declining strength of their local textile industries, and the advance of global fast-fashion conglomerates into Latin American countries. Facing those conditions, for some of the designers it was easier to migrate to achieve a future career in fashion.

Latin America, a Talent Pool Susana Saulquin recalls how in the early 1990s some bonaerenses designers established a sort of diaspora in New York. Some Colombian talents in fashion design would do the same by the late 1990s or move on into other fields unrelated to the fashion industry. A list of designer brands debuting at Colombiamoda from the 1990s to 2000s reveals that only a few of them continue in the business of fashion today, notwithstanding strong efforts by institutions and long-standing brands such as Silvia Tcherassi. In October 2000 Harper’s Bazaar Mexico featured a report on “Moda en Mexico,” an article that portrayed sixteen local creators, a snapshot intended to present a portrait of what was happening in Mexican fashion while the country was “living a real social, cultural and political explosion.” However, in 2017 Gustavo Pardo revised that piece observing, “By looking at that generational portrait, one wonders if it is not a summary of the twentieth century rather than a foreshadowing of the future that was to come, since less than twenty years later it was already unremarkable that the vast majority of them had gone a different way.”38 Macario Jiménez is perhaps the only one referenced in that article who has had a long-lasting career with transnational scope. Referring to Paris, Valerie Steele argues that “the French fashion system[’s] ability to attract foreign talent has been crucial to its continuing success.”39 The same could be said about the American fashion system, specifically, in New York, which historically was shaped by talents from all over the world including those of Latinx peoples. By taking part in Euro-American fashion, Latinx people have involved themselves in multiple fields in the industry: illustration; modeling; photography; design; and, certainly, consumption— both symbolic and pecuniary. At the beginning of the twentieth century, some Latinx people already had an active role in the global fashion industry, although not as designers. Peruvian artist Reynaldo Luza arrived in New York in 1918; a year later he was an illustrator for Vogue, where he continued until 1921 and then took the same role at Harper’s Bazaar until 1950. By 1930 the Lima press was documenting his lifestyle and studio in Paris and praising his influence on the artistic side of fashion because of his ability to capture “the movement of the flappers who frequent the ballrooms and theaters of Broadway, the swift steps of Parisian mannequins, or the regal voluptuousness of the South American girls at fashionable tea-houses in any European capital.”40

Latin America, a Talent Pool  37

That was not hyperbole. Luza’s pencil captured creations by designers such as Chanel, Vionnet, and Chéruit. At the same time the Parisian press that was directed to a male audience praised Luza’s elegant silhouettes, because they matched “the seductive style of women’s fashion, which he illustrates with refinement and distinction.”41 There was really nothing reflective of his Andean heritage in his personal image or graphic production. The recognition he received was due solely to his ability to insert himself into a modernist and Europeanized esthetic, despite the fact that the pictorial modernism of that time borrowed from ancient artists, including Africans, and labeled them as primitive. This is significant because it implies the symbolic consumption of a set of foreign stylistic and sartorial values but does not inquire into Latino identities in those same terms. In fact, as recently as the 1990s, with the opening of Latin American economies, identity and difference were considered an asset for global competitiveness. Modeling by Latinas in the Euro-American fashion industry had been rather marginal prior to the rise of Brazilian fashion industry in the late 1990s. Even in the 1970s, when the cultural atmosphere moved the industry to open up to ethnic styles and Black and Asian models could have a career, there was a noticeable lack of Latinas’ participation in the modeling field. Before that, just one Latina model entered the annals of fashion, Argentinian Kouka Gaspar Denis. She was introduced to Parisian fashion by Yves Saint Laurent in 1957. Saint Laurent had just become creative director at Christian Dior after its founder’s death. As the model herself recalled, to Europeans her physiognomy looked Incan.42 However, regardless of her dark hair and prominent facial bone structure, at 85 pounds she was closer to the European modeling canon of the 1950s than to the voluptuous figures associated with Latinas. In fact, both these associations are quite common in Colombia, where there remains a distinction between voluptuous beauty, considered well suited for popular entertainment, and languid beauty, judged apt for runways and, therefore, more international. Fortunately, slowly but surely, ideas of beauty have widened far enough to include broader expressions of beauty. Latino photographers have also been involved in the global fashion industry, Colombian Ruven Afanador and Peruvian Mario Testino being the most prominent in the twentieth century. Nevertheless, the presence of Latinx people as fashion designers in the heart of Euro-American fashion goes back to the late 1950s. Understanding this means taking into account the pivotal role of New York as a cultural hub in a nation made of multiple nationalities, a city that often welcomes difference. In its cultural milieu designers such as Luis Estévez, Adolfo Sardiña, Oscar de la Renta, and Carolina Herrera could flourish. Born in Cuba in 1930, Luis Estévez started his career in 1955. Even though he studied architecture in Havana, Estévez’s fashion design perspectives were shaped in the United States and Europe, first as student at the Traphagen School of Fashion in New York and then through his work in Paris at Patou. By 1956 Life magazine reported that Estévez’s success story took just one year, and the magazine saw fit to mention his noble origins dating back to the eighteenth century.43 This was not a trivial fact; in the 1950s, consumers—especially those in the growing middle class—valued social respectability. Thus, a link between a designer and nobility could be more resonant than the expression of a Latino identity in his design esthetic. Estévez was a new name at a time when “American fashion had become newsworthy, and stores and fashion magazines discovered and promoted young designers.”44 Certainly, his designs were widely advertised in the fashion press from the 1960s to the mid-1970s.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  38

Figure 2.9  Luis Estévez, evening dress, circa 1955. Mrs. Augustus G. Paine II at the house of her father, Earl E. T. Smith, wearing an evening dress by Luis Estévez, Palm Beach, Florida, USA. Photograph by Slim Aarons/Getty Images.

Such attention ranged from his collaborations with retailers and synthetic textile manufacturers to his spot in the ranks of fashion editors’ choices for their stories. The attendant images and the different brands linked to the “By Estévez” signature identify an entrepreneur and creative talent who was able to insert himself into prevalent fashion trends while preserving his own distinctive style, defined by lightweight fabrics, revealed backs and legs, and plunging necklines. His flowing and body-conscious style was already surfacing in his late 1950s designs, which went beyond the stiffened look of his first collaborations in the early 1950s. Thus, Estévez’s work was more in the vein of avant-garde design, as represented by Balenciaga or Givenchy. The Museum at FIT preserves a 1957 example which epitomizes this crucial stage in his career. Historically, Latin America and the Caribbean have been associated with rhythmic music and sounds and dance that generate free body movements requiring fluid and body-conscious clothing. It is not unreasonable to speculate that this could have had an influence on Estévez’s approach to design. Adolfo Sardiña, also born in Cuba, started his career in the late 1950s as a milliner and established his own salon in New York in 1963. Sardiña was trained in the traditions of Parisian haute couture and American retail expertise. He retired from design in

Latin America, a Talent Pool  39

1993 to concentrate on his licensing business. “It’s better to close a business when you’re doing well than out of sheer necessity,” he told the New York Times.45 Regardless of his undeniable commercial success and position as a favorite of wealthy American women, his designs were rather derivative, following the lead of Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent in their different stages. However, on that issue Sardiña explained that he was creating “a feeling of Chanel, an illusion of her.”46 When Valerie Steele interviewed Mrs. James Rothschild, Rothschild told her that during the 1920s she did not wear Chanel dresses. “Oh, no. They were too expensive,”47 she recalled. It hardly bears mentioning that even today they remain so. Resourcefulness, supposedly, is part and parcel of Latino cultural values. In that light it is worthwhile to consider Sardiña as an arbitrator between wealthy women’s desires and their sartorial frugality. Even so, Sardiña’s inventiveness surfaces especially in his first stage as milliner; there, the richness of color and dramatic shapes suggest his Latino roots. Estévez and Sardiña received the Coty Award repeatedly and were leading figures in American fashion well into the 1980s.48 Although trained in couture techniques, it was their performance in New York that led them into the American ready-to-wear business. This mix of artistry and commerce allowed them to build substantial corporate enterprises. The year 1956 marked Oscar de la Renta’s debut in United States.49 Born in the Dominican Republic, De la Renta shared with Estévez and Sardiña an early training in Parisian fashion ateliers. This was a common pattern for mid-twentieth-century Latinx designers who sought an international career in Euro-American fashion. First, to succeed in the United States they needed to demonstrate technical training as evidence of their skills and at the same time carry an air of being touched by a kind of Parisian fashion sense. In the process they had to acquire a strong knowledge of production processes and, above all, of American tastes. Doing so implied an understanding of the possibilities of sportswear, which is so deeply rooted in New York fashion, and of functional luxury. This was like speaking two languages which had to be merged with a third: their own vision of style and Latino sensibility. In the matter of displaying a Latino sensibility, De la Renta is especially notable nowadays, but this was not a feature noted by fashion insiders at the beginning of his career. After coming to New York from Paris, where he worked at Balenciaga and assisted Castillo at Lanvin, De la Renta took a position as a designer at Elizabeth Arden. Upon leaving that role in 1965, he launched his first collection for Jane Derby in New York’s Garment District. However, his name appeared more prominently in the press as “a popular young man about town.” Bernadine Morris, who chronicled the vertiginous rise of De la Renta in the New York Times, was enthusiastic about his daytime clothes, which “had the kind of quiet, well-bred elegance [that] women of affluence and taste insist upon.” She praised his modest clothes because he did not resort “to anything in the way of daring necklines or scandalous cutouts.”50 Morris made no mention of his Caribbean roots, nor did she establish any conceptual connection to them. A decade later Grace Mirabella, by then the editor of Vogue, defined some features of De la Renta’s designs in an interview she had with Morris. Their conversation suggests that, while fashion insiders were conscious of De la Renta’s groundbreaking designs, they did not associate them with his Caribbean roots. “De la Renta’s Spring Show, All Color, Silk and Flare,” effused Morris, while Mirabella said of the collection, “It has a vitality all of its own … there’s a sense of entertainment, fun and free charm [that] you don’t

Figure 2.10  Orange woven silk crepe turban. By Adolfo for Emme, 1958. USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Helen Ziegler. In his first stage as milliner, the color richness and dramatic shapes suggest his Latin roots. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  40

find anywhere else.”51 However, in her review Morris associated that vitality with such Spanish references as flamenco dancer skirts, ballooning sleeves, and ribbons. She overlooked that there were flowing, ruffled skirts, plainly Caribbean, like the long and full skirts so common in folk dress around the Caribbean islands. Reactions to De la Renta’s esthetic recall a carnival logic which offered “a kind of transitory liberation, beyond the orbit of the dominant conception … and rules.”52 “It’s fantasy in a sense, but not trashy fantasy,” said De la Renta, adding that dictating where a woman should wear his clothes was not his business. According to Morris, this “indicated a rare type of freedom, on his part, a refusal to be unduly restrained by prevailing patterns of thought.”53 In that regard De la Renta was inviting American women to experience in his clothes a sort of carnival and fantasy in Latino codes. To some extent, his spring 1976 show crystallized a set of codes that would later be recognized as a Latino stamp in his designs: Bright colors, experimental volumes, and floral and exotic prints. Patty Cisneros was one of De la Renta’s friends and clients who attended that show. She was from Caracas, a city with a close relationship with couture in the mid-twentieth century. It was the only South American capital visited by Christian Dior in 1956, when he opened his first boutique in Venezuela, before his staff started a tour through Colombia, Peru, and Argentina promoting the H line.54 It was in the context of wealthy women seduced by couture that Carolina Herrera, born in Venezuela, shaped her fashion sensitivities. Her attendance at a Balenciaga show when she was just thirteen is a familiar story in biographical reports that aim to explain her meticulous vision of style. However, the relationship between the brand Carolina Herrera and her persona is similar to that of other twentieth-century women designers such as Chanel and Mary Quant. Each embodied her own style and was her own muse. Long before her debut as designer in 1981, Herrera was already known as one of the best dressed women in New York social circles, so the expected promise was that the socialite, now designing, was sharing her style with other women. And that she did. “It’s my own style” and “it’s a reflection of my thinking,” said Herrera to June Weir of Vogue.55 Vogue foresaw Herrera’s success and reminded its readers of her Latino origins by describing her as possessing a “Caracas-born beauty,” using that old-fashioned formula, so early-twentieth-century-like, just as it had done in the past when it featured some wealthy Latinas visiting New York in its pages. As time went on, however, Herrera would come to consider herself a New Yorker, as the New York Times put it, “despite her Venezuelan heritage.”56 Nonetheless, Vogue also reassured its readers that she was “better known as an international socialite than as a working woman.” Herrera was there “to prove her merits” as a designer, and from her first collection she was “well on her way to success.”57 In the New York Times, John Duka also reviewed Herrera’s debut but did not appear as favorably impressed. He wrote that, despite the thunderous applause that greeted her from attendees at the Metropolitan Club, it was “not as thunderous by half as the applause that greeted the more eminently wearable collections, such as those of Calvin Klein and of Donna Karan and Louis Dell’Olio for Anne Klein.”58 The fifty-piece Carolina Herrera debut collection featured “simple shapes with extravagant details,” according to Weir, who added, “dresses with dramatic sleeves … truly sum up Carolina’s style.”59 Duka said that Herrera’s ruffles were as thunderous as the applause that greeted her. The designer described her style to Weir by saying, “I love to mix fabrics. I don’t like prints. I find color very exciting … I like pure lines with just one extravagant

Figure 2.11  Adolfo three-piece suit, wool bouclé knit, silk, 1972, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Adolfo. By following the lead of Chanel, Adolfo explained that he was creating “a feeling of Chanel, an illusion of her.” Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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detail, especially big sleeves … It’s much more practical than [what] Europeans [do].”60 Weir’s mention of the features of Herrera’s style and Duka’s comparison of this collection with the “more eminently wearable collections” of other designers make it possible to argue that, long before her more established American colleagues did, Herrera was perceiving and materializing the extravagant style that later would define the 1980s in fashion history. It was not only a matter of big sleeves or padded shoulders. (Klein and Karan had these in their collections to some extent.) There were also bold block colors and gold touches in rigorous tailored jackets, skirts pre-balloon-like, big earrings, and black and white hosiery. As a 1976 comment from De la Renta suggested, it was Yves Saint Laurent who started a movement away from trench coats and mannish-tailored suits to a thoroughly feminine mood with taffeta skirts and cinched waists, which the Latino designer called “romantic.” This movement, strongly celebrated by the fashion press which declared it a “revolution in fashion,” may well have paved the way for the opulent styles that would reign in the 1980s, whose zenith would be the decadent extravagance of Christian Lacroix. In between these extreme poles and by way of practicality are De la Renta and Herrera, who created a Latin American fantasy mixed with American flair. Therefore, it is arguable that both designers brought to American fashion something equal to the caliber of Parisian couture. Both founded the most long-lived international fashion brands created by Latinx designers so far. De la Renta was the first Latino to design haute couture collections, which he had done for Balmain from 1993 to 2002. At the close of the twentieth century, other Latinx designers began less media-exposed but no less significant careers in fashion. They went for an avant-garde flair far away from such preconceptions about Latin America as tropical, picturesque, or exotic. Isabel Toledo, born in Cuba and whose career started in 1985, has had her design vision celebrated in exhibitions since 2000, one at The Museum at FIT in 2009. María Cornejo from Chile, who began with a punk/goth esthetic, has moved between Europe and America since the mid-1980s.Victor Alfaro, born in Mexico, was the most talked-about Latin American designer in the 1990s and was honored with the Perry Ellis Award for New Fashion Talent at the 1995 CFDA Fashion Awards. Francisco Costa from Brazil was creative director at Calvin Klein for almost a decade. Cuban American Lazaro Hernández was one of the founders of the Proenza Schouler brand; Haider Ackermann, born in Colombia, works as the head designer for his namesake brand in Paris. The Latin American designers’ diaspora throughout global fashion centers in Europe and America, but especially in New York, makes the region a supplier of talent. This is evident not only in design but also in many of the fields that support the fashion industry. Photographers, stylists, hairdressers, make-up artists, editors, and models are scattered around the planet giving something of the flavor of Latino identities to the world.

Figure 2.12 (right)  The Oscar de la Renta aesthetic is reminiscent of the carnivalesque, pointing at a transitory liberation that overcomes rules and structures. Ready-to-Wear, A/F 1991/1992. Paris. Photograph by Daniel SIMON/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images. Figure 2.13 (overleaf )  Carolina Herrera, evening gown, fall 1981, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Carolina Herrera, Ltd. Carolina Herrera debut collection featured simple shapes with extravagant details. According to Vogue, “dresses with dramatic sleeves truly sum up Carolina’s style.” Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  44

NOTES 1 My definition is based on the definition given by Joanne Entwistle in The Fashioned Body: Fashion, Dress, and Modern Social Theory (Cambridge, MA: Polity Press, 2011), 210. 2 Andrew Bolton, China:Through the Looking Glass (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2015), 17. 3 Gilles Lipovetsky, “La moda es política,” El País España, March 12, 2020, https://acortar.link/Kkb99C. 4 Dean L. Merceron, Lanvin (New York: Rizzoli, 2007), 146. 5 Aída Martínez Carreño, La prisión del vestido: Aspectos sociales del traje en América (Bogotá: Planeta, 1995), 117. 6 Nicole Phelps, “Jean Paul Gaultier Spring 2008 Ready-toWear,” Vogue Runway, October 1, 2007, https://acortar.link/ IIzoJb. 7 Laird Borrelli-Persson, “Jean Paul Gaultier Spring 1998 ReadyTo-Wear,” Vogue Runway, October 19, 1997, https://acortar. link/cddNVV. 8 Bertram D. Wolfe, “Rise of Another Rivera,” Vogue, November 1, 1938, 131. 9 “Local Colour–Mexican,” Vogue, January 15, 1942, 55. 10 Jean Baudrillard, The System of Objects (New York:Verso, 1996), 30, 33. 11 Jennifer Craik, The Face of Fashion: Cultural Studies in Fashion (London: Routledge, 2005), 17. 12 Ibid. 13 Valeriano Bozal, Historia de las ideas estéticas y de las teorías artísticas contemporáneas (Madrid: La Balsa de Medusa, 2000), 44. 14 Edward Said, Orientalism (London: Penguin, 1977), 248. 15 Victor Segalen, Essay on Exoticism: An Aesthetics of Diversity (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2002), 18, 24. 16 Bozal, Historia de las ideas estéticas, 43. 17 Segalen, Essay on Exoticism, 24. 18 Ibid., 19. 19 Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994), 66. 20 Segalen, Essay on Exoticism, 24. 21 Ibid., 20. 22 See Maguelonne Toussaint-Samat, Historia técnica y moral del vestido, vol. 2 (3 vols.; Madrid: Alianza, 1994), 136–9. 23 “Christmas at Cuzco,” Vogue, December 1949, 154. 24 Néstor García Canclini, Culturas híbridas. Estrategias para entrar y salir de la modernidad (Mexico: Grijalbo, 1990), 78, 151. 25 Susan Sontag, On Photography (New York: Rosetta Books, 2005), 33. 26 I am indebted to Rocío Arias Hofman, journalist and political scientist, and Professor Sandra Vélez for their valuable contribution to the visual analysis of this image. 27 Sontag, On Photography, 50. 28 Elizabeth Kutesko, Fashioning Brazil: Globalization and the Representation of Brazilian Dress in National Geographic (London: Bloomsbury, 2020), 84–5.

29 Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography (New York: Hill & Wang, 2010), 85. 30 Yuniya Kawamura, Fashion-ology: An Introduction to Fashion Studies (Oxford: Berg, 2006), 2. 31 Vanessa Friedman, “Reading the Subtleties of Islamic Fashion,” New York Times, November 25, 2014, Section E, 4. 32 Angélica Gallón Salazar, “Pepe Reblet, el padrino de la moda,” El Espectador, July 17, 2009, https://acortar.link/ms0lX8. 33 Ibid. 34 Susana Saulquin, Historia de la moda argentina. Del miriñaque al diseño de autor (Buenos Aires: Emecé, 2005), 183, 185, 191, 201, 202, 205. 35 Ibid., 209–63. 36 Guy Trebay, “Big Models, Big Brands: The Year in Fashion; The Noise from Brazil,” New York Times, December 26, 2000, Section B, 11. 37 Armand Limnander, “Rio. How to Host a Fashion Week,” Time Magazine, November 13, 2008, https://acortar.link/Z3lDBH. 38 Gustavo Pardo, Mextilo. Memoria de la moda mexicana (Mexico: Trendo.Mx, 2017), 351. 39 Valerie Steele, Paris Fashion: A Cultural History (New York: Berg, 1998), 289. 40 “Artistas peruanos en París. Un studio modernista,” Variedades. Revista semanal ilustrada, Lima, September 3, 1930, 18. 41 “Studios,” in Adam: revue des modes masculines en France et à l’étranger (Paris: Bibliothèque nationale de France, January 15, 1932), 22. 42 Gabriela Picasso, “Kouka, vida y obra de la primera top model argentina musa de YSL y Givenchy,” La Nación, Buenos Aires, April 18, 2018, https://acortar.link/9MvrRN. 43 “Fashion. A Success Story in Necklines. Luis Estevez is a One-Year Wonder,” Life, April 2, 1956, 57. 44 Caroline Rennolds Milbank, New York Fashion:The Evolution of American Style (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1996), 222. 45 Anne-Marie Schiro, “Adolfo Decides to Quit Designing,” New York Times, March 19, 1993, Section B, 6. 46 Laird Borrelli-Persson, “Remembering Adolfo, Known for His Fantastical Hats and Cardigan Suits,” Vogue, December 2, 2021, https://acortar.link/jVlqrI. 47 Steele, Paris Fashion, 247. 48 Milbank, New York Fashion, 183, 187, 188, 222. 49 Cathy Horyn and Enid Nemy, “Oscar de la Renta, Who Clothed Stars and Became One, Dies at 82,” New York Times, October 20, 2014, Section A, 1. 50 Bernadine Morris, “De la Renta’s 7th Avenue Debut is a Hit,” New York Times, June 15, 1965, Section Food Fashions Family Furnishings, 34. 51 New York Times, November 30, 1976, 57. 52 Mijail Bajtin, La cultura popular en la Edad Media y en el Renacimiento (Alianza: Madrid, 2003), 9.

Latin America, a Talent Pool  47

53 Bernadine Morris, “De la Renta’s Spring Show, All Color, Silk and Flare,” New York Times, November 30, 1976, 57. 54 William Cruz Bermeo, Medellín. Medio siglo de moda: 1900–1950 (Medellín: Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana, 2018), 149. 55 “Vogue’s View,” Vogue, August 1981.

56 Laura Neilson, “48 Hours With Carolina Herrera Before Her Show,” New York Times, September 12, 2017, Section ST, 3. 57 “Vogue’s View,” Vogue, August 1981. 58 “Notes on Fashion,” New York Times, May 5, 1981, Section B, 14. 59 “Vogue’s View,” Vogue, August 1981. 60 Ibid.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  48

49

C A S E S T U DY: LU I S E S T É V E Z E V E N I N G S E T

William Cruz Bermeo In a 1975 press release, high-powered public relations professional Eleanor Lambert noted that, after twenty years in fashion, the designer Luis Estévez had won twenty-one awards including the Coty. He had put show biz into fashion presentations and vice versa, as he was the “first [fashion designer] to take over a major Broadway show”1 with his design of the costumes for Hello Dolly (1964) and for Hair (1969). He expanded into male fashion, creating “the first 100% knit collection for men.” In addition, Estévez had introduced the very Latin American Acapulco shirt, which he managed to position as a fancy evening shirt, by building on his relationships with celebrities such as George Hamilton, Henry Ford II, and John Wayne. A swimwear company even based an entire resort wear collection on the shirt.2 Born Luis Estévez de Galvez in Havana, the designer came from a “family of history-makers, dating from one of the first Viceroys of Mexico.”3 His education under Jesuit and English instructors suggested that Estévez would have a career in architecture. However, he chose to channel his talent into fashion.4 Reportedly, after “a summer job at Lord & Taylor in New York, Estévez … headed for Paris couture and a job at the House of Patou.”5 While many journalists focused mainly on Estévez as a designer, his achievements there cannot hide his success as an entrepreneur. Estévez was able to span resort sportswear, beachwear, furs, and even cosmetics and wig lines. With an ability to grasp the potential of the fashion business beyond a simple concern for its esthetics, he collaborated with textile manufacturers, celebrities, and mass market brands. In fashion, Estévez’s esthetic is synonymous with lightweight and fluid fabrics such as voile, jersey, crepe marocain, chiffon, and lace. However, early on, he also favored velour and tulle to provide volume and support, whether they were used in underskirts to create volume or as belts and ribbons to give support and fastening. Floral patterns of roses, daisies, and tulips were essential

Figure 2A.2  Mrs. Augustus G. Paine II at the house of her father, Earl E. T. Smith, wearing an evening dress by Luis Estévez, Palm Beach, Florida, USA. Photograph by Slim Aarons/Getty Images.

in his treatment of the surfaces, whether embroidered or printed, either as mimicks or as abstractions. The silhouettes he created make apparent the transition from the structured silhouettes of the late 1950s to the freer ones of the 1960s and 1970s. It is instructive to compare a circa 1955 evening dress (see Figure 2A.1), to Estévez’s collaborations in the 1970s with resort sportswear brands such as Sea Darlings. One exquisite example that stands out in the middle of the above-mentioned transition is a 1957 evening set, a dress and stole in the collection at The Museum at FIT. Created under the brand Grenelle-Estévez, this was among Estévez’s earliest entrepreneurial associations within the industry. He partnered with Fred Greenberg and Ben Papell. (Grenelle is an amalgam of his partners’ names [Green]berg–Pap[ell].)

Figure 2A.1  Grenelle-Estévez, rose printed evening set, 1957, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Sylvia Levine. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Case Study: Luis Estevez Evening Set  51

This dress is column-like, with a spongy fold cascading from the lower back to the hem, revealing the wearer’s back almost completely. The dress is made of cotton voile printed with abstract red roses with black leaves. However, giving the material’s nature its due, some portions are untouched by any print, thus contrasting the red and black with the white areas of the fabric. A black velour ribbon stitched from flank to flank crosses the neck at the front and provides the dress’s main support aided by another velour ribbon encircling the upper breast and lower back. The huge stole supplementing the dress is made of the same fabrics. The stole’s body is in the printed voile edged by the black velour ribbon. The dress in the Museum collection shows a mix of manual and mechanical stitching, probably due to interventions during its life. Estévez managed to masterfully apply in the piece’s confection some technics representative of couture. It is stiffened with whalebone and uses tulle for volume. These techniques were skillfully adapted to the silhouette, which represents Estévez’s transition from the look of the 1950s to something new. A case in point is the use of flexible rods inserted into the flanks to structure the dress’s body. By shortening these rods, Estévez lightened any constriction that the wearer might feel. Something similar happens with a set of even shorter rods inserted on the lower part of the dress’s back. Another example of this is the tulle in the inside construction of the dress. It

fluffs the folds falling from the lower back, giving to them a shape reminiscent of the folds of a chemise dress, the characteristic late eighteenth-century white cotton muslin gowns inspired by colonial Caribbean styles. Further, the front hem of the dress is higher than the back one. A series of pleats from an almost empire-like waist to the hips subtly underlines and rounds the hips. Thus, although this is a dress from the second half of the twentieth century, it is avant-garde in its silhouette and notable for its use of sheer cotton voile rather than silk, which would be the expected fabric for evening dresses of that period. The fabric was woven of Supima cotton, an extra-long fiber, making the fabric stronger, softer, and silkier than regular cotton. In designing this garment, one of Estévez’s earliest collaborations, he seems to link an essence of a Caribbean past with the spirit of his time in America. Not surprisingly, given the material used, a Supima cotton advertisement (circa 1959) featured the dress, describing its Caribbean evocations as apparel “Flaming as tropic bloom … pulsating as a mambo beat … this sinuous fashion by Estévez casts its spells on itinerant islanders from Bermuda to Barbados!”6 “[I]tinerant islanders” probably alludes to Americans visiting the Caribbean in their yachts. In the advertisement the model was Dovima photographed by William Helburn. The ad provides additional information about the garment’s availability in America at stores such as Lord & Taylor and Neiman-Marcus.

NOTES 1 Eleanor Lambert, “Luis Estévez takes stock of his twenty years in fashion,” press release, circa 1975, https://www.fordlibrarymuseum.gov/library/ document/0126/1489756.pdf. The original document is located in Box 38 of the Sheila Weidenfeld Files at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library folder, “Ford, Betty – Fashion – Designers – Estévez, Luis.” 2 Ibid. 3 Jody Donohue Associates, “Luis Estévez,” press release, circa 1975, https://www.fordlibrarymuseum.gov/library/ document/0126/1489756.pdf. The original document is

located in the same place as the reference mentioned in note 1. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid. 6 I am in debt to Colleen Hill, curator of costume and accessories at The Museum at FIT, who shared the advertisement with me. Unfortunately, it was not possible to confirm the original publication in which it appeared; however, the year of publication is approximate and given by sellers of vintage advertisements on eBay.

Figure 2A.3  Back view of evening set by Grenelle-Estévez, rose printed evening set, 1957, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Sylvia Levine. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Chapter 2  Looking Back: Latin America on the Global Fashion Scene in the 20th Century  52

3

Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion Laura Beltrán-Rubio

F

ashion and textiles have a long history in Abya Yala (otherwise known as “Latin America”). In the Andes, textiles preceded ceramics and are a central element to both the arts and the sociopolitical structures and dynamics of the different cultures that have inhabited the region. The first fiber arts appeared early in the Lithic Period (10,000–3000 bce) and loom textile technologies developed as early as the Cotton Pre-Ceramic Period (3000–1800 bce). The importance of textiles in the region is such that, for millennia, the aesthetic qualities of textiles have informed every other artistic media, including non-fiber arts. Scholars of the Andes have identified a “textile primacy” in the region that began before the dawn of the Spanish invasion and, it could be argued, has continued until the present.1 In Mesoamerica, basketry, twining, and netting developed around 5000 bce and loom weaving followed around 1800 bce. Textiles were essential for the economy, as they functioned as dowry payments, tribute, and means of exchange, in addition to their sociopolitical roles as markers of status and participants in a variety of ceremonies.2 Siksika/Blackfoot art historian and curator Amber-Dawn Bear Robe has argued that “Indigenous design is the original fashion of North America, reflecting a

Figure 3.1  Miniature tunic by unidentified Wari artist, 500–800 ce. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Alastair B. Martin, the Guennol Collection, 71.180. Creative Commons-BY.

55

diversity of personalities, world views, beliefs, and epistemologies.”3 This claim can be extended to Abya Yala, as the wealth of textiles and their importance to the social and cultural fabrics of the region before the European invasion attests. The rich heritage of Indigenous textiles has become a strong element of pride in Abya Yala, paramount to modern national identities throughout the region. Many Latin American and Latinx fashion designers have drawn inspiration from this cultural heritage to develop clothing that is perceived to have an authentic “Latin style.” In some cases, brands and designers have established long-term relationships with Indigenous communities that aim to empower artisans and give them a voice in the processes of design and manufacture. However, others have relied on ideas about a shared “mestizo” heritage and pride in Indigenous ancestry that are prone to fall into practices of cultural appropriation and racial plagiarism, which perpetuate the violence faced by many Indigenous peoples since the dawn of European invasion. Finally, an increasing number of Indigenous designers and creatives are gaining visibility and have begun to actively “Indigenize” the fashion system of Abya Yala. The active “Indigenization” of fashion systems is a political alternative to the somewhat more ambiguous call to decolonizing fashion, as it brings to the forefront the creative and fashion practices of Indigenous individuals in their own right, rather than as subsidiary participants of fashion in the shadow of Westernized, Euro-American designers. This chapter studies the different ways in which Latin American designers have built on the Indigenous textile traditions throughout Abya Yala to fashion their own brands, collections, and even identities as creators. By analyzing the design practices of those who simply draw inspiration from Indigenous heritage, those who claim to “collaborate” with Indigenous communities, and Indigenous designers themselves, this chapter explores the many expressions of Indigenous textile heritage in contemporary “Latin American” fashion. Before delving into my analysis, however, I must recognize my own positionality and stakes on the matter. I write from the urban setting of Bogotá, Colombia, where I work as a professor at Universidad de los Andes—one of the top universities in Latin America, according to Western standards. My academic training has followed the Western model, as I hold a MA from Parsons School of Design, in New York, and at the time of writing this essay I am completing a PhD from William & Mary, in Virginia. I am not a member of any of the Indigenous nations that inhabit Abya Yala and, as a result, I am by no means the best candidate to write an analysis of Indigenous heritage in Latinx fashion. However, I have spent years studying the history of Indigenous textiles and fashion and their evolution throughout history, with a particular emphasis on the colonial period and its legacies into the present day. I have also spent considerable effort exchanging ideas with members of different Indigenous nations, both in Abya Yala and Turtle Mountain, without whom it would not have been possible to write this essay. I thank each and every one of these intellectuals infinitely for the wealth of knowledge that they have shared with me. I write this analysis with immense respect and admiration, hoping to be an ally, and most importantly, hoping that we can Indigenize fashion in Abya Yala to eradicate colonialist practices such as cultural appropriation and racial plagiarism. One first step towards such an eradication is to adopt, as I have done throughout this chapter, a non-Eurocentric, non-patriarchal, and non-anthropocentric alternative for naming what is otherwise known as “Latin America.” Following the agreement proposed by

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  56

several Indigenous nations since 1992, I use “Abya Yala”—which means “perfectly ripe land” in the language of the Guna-Dule nations—to refer to the territories studied in this chapter.4 * * *

Fashion in the Americas has developed at the intersection of diverse cultures for millennia. Cultural exchanges in Abya Yala preceded the Spanish invasion and they have certainly influenced a variety of cultural manifestations, among them textiles and clothing. Scholars of pre-invasion Americas have noted the long-distance travel of materials, goods, technologies, and ideas throughout the region, which resulted in the long-term mixture and hybridization of cultural manifestations.5 These processes can be understood through the concept of “cultural authentication,” which, according to anthropologists Joanne B. Eicher and Tonye V. Erekosima, “applies to specific articles and ensembles of dress identified as ethnic and considered indigenous when the users are not the makers or when the material used is not indigenous in origin.”6 Cultural authentication involves four interrelated categories through which the object or style in question is selected by members of the receiving culture as appropriate and desirable, characterized according to the internal meanings of such society, incorporated within the receiving cultural system, and adapted or transformed to meet the forms and purposes required by the new cultural setting. Understanding cultural authentication as a process highlights the fluid nature of identities and suggests that “ethnicity combines both cultural stability and change in dynamic interplay.”7 However, cultural authentication does not always result from relatively neutral exchanges between different cultures. With the dawn of European invasion more than 500 years ago, the inhabitants of Abya Yala were violently stripped of their clothes—and identities—through conversion, assimilation, and even legislation, as the colonization of the Americas advanced. In the early days of colonization, the newly founded colonial societies were rigidly structured and Indigenous peoples were forced to dress in a manner that separated them from European invaders. By the eighteenth century, however, many Indigenous inhabitants of the Spanish colonies were forbidden to wear their traditional styles of dress, as the increasing number of Indigenous and rural uprisings increased anxiety among colonial administrators.8 With the processes of independence, Indigenous peoples of Abya Yala continued to be relegated to the borderlands of the newly formed nations, as the intellectual and political discourses of the time extended many of the structures that had been imposed during the colonial period.9 These colonialist social dynamics have also extended into the present and are clearly visible in the practices of cultural appropriation that have become so common within the fashion systems of Abya Yala. Cultural appropriation can be defined rather straightforwardly as the adoption and use of another culture’s objects, symbols, technologies, and ideas. This taking of elements from a different culture is an active process that, according to communication scholar Richard A. Rogers, can result from four different types of cultural relationships: exchange, domination, exploitation, and transculturation. The categories of cultural dominance and cultural exploitation highlight the asymmetric nature of cultural appropriation, which can occur either as a form of resistance by a dominated (perhaps colonized) culture or the commodification of elements of a subordinated (often colonized) culture.10

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  57

Because of the different dynamics that occur in relation to cultural appropriation and the varied meanings it can receive, the term is often confusing. As the subject has gained popularity in analyses of contemporary fashion, cultural appropriation and cultural “appreciation” have lost their meanings to become “euphemisms that distort to the point of unintelligibility the very thing designers are doing when they ‘appropriate/appreciate,’” as fashion and ethnic studies scholar Minh-Ha T. Pham has explained.11 Scholars of fashion have proposed different terms to approach, analyze, and understand the practices of copying and borrowing inspiration from other cultures within fashion design. Pham proposes the use of “racial plagiarism” as a term that places copying at center stage, making the taking of elements from a different culture a matter of copyright law rather than a matter of intentions—often good—of designers.12 By placing copyright issues at the forefront of the matter, the term “racial plagiarism” also highlights the fact that, in most cases, the “appreciation” of other cultures involves processes in which the intellectual owners, creators, and designers of the original works and styles are rarely paid or otherwise retributed for their work. Offering a different perspective, sociologists Brenda Mondragón Toledo and Theresa O’Keeffe have proposed that the colonial dynamics of cultural extractivism and cultural dispossession are at the basis of contemporary fashion systems. They claim that many fashion designers and brands have continued to exploit the ideas, creations, aesthetics, and ways of knowing of Indigenous peoples through their design practices.13 These forms of exploitation have become more common as fashion designers from Abya Yala have begun to strategically look at Indigenous cultures for inspiration as “Latin American” fashion has gained popularity within the global fashion system. As a result, many fashion designers and brands have appropriated elements from Indigenous cultures to create their most “authentically Latin American” aesthetics and brand identities in their quest to acquire more visibility in the global fashion world. While well intended, the search for Latinx authenticity has ended up falling, in many cases, into practices of cultural appropriation, racial plagiarism, and self-exotization. Perhaps the most cited example of cultural appropriation among Latinx fashion brands was Wes Gordon’s Resort 2020 collection for Carolina Herrera. The collection was said to reflect a Latin American alegría de vivir (Spanish for joie de vivre) through colorful patterns and embroideries that “play[ed] up Herrera’s Venezuelan side.”14 Yet the collection borrowed the striped pattern commonly associated with the sarape de Saltillo and embroideries from Oaxaca—neither of them Venezuelan but Mexican instead.15 The conflation of different cultural elements from Abya Yala into one single “Latin” identity is problematic because it blurs the cultural diversity of the region into one simple stereotype of a tropical, exotic, and unexplored—but wealthy—land, ready to be exploited by whomever “discovers” it from abroad. More importantly, the invisibilization of the Indigenous communities associated with the creation of sarapes and Oaxacan embroideries extends the colonialist nature of cultural extractivism and dispossession that rule contemporary fashion. As Vanessa Friedman, fashion director and chief fashion critic for the New York Times, rightly pointed out, “the Herrera issue underscores the way that traditional fashion practices are increasingly problematic and out of date.”16 Yet Carolina Herrera’s Resort 2020 collection is far from being the only case of a practice that is unfortunately common in a region where designers and brands are constantly seeking to showcase their authenticity by drawing upon the richness of Indigenous textile

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  58

heritage. Mexican brand Pineda Covalin has been accused repeatedly of cultural appropriation by Indigenous artisans from Mexico, despite priding itself on promoting the ancestral Indigenous heritage of Mexican and “Latin American” culture around the world. For years, the brand has sold huipiles, alluding to the garment of Mesoamerican origin worn (in its different variations) by women in the region for millennia.17 Their huipil istmo, for example, imitates a floral pattern representative of the embroideries from Juchitán that are typically featured in the outfits worn by Tehuanas or Zapotec women from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. Unlike Carolina Herrera, Pineda Covalin takes a step further in retributing the communities originally associated with the style, by stating that the income generated from this design contributes to a program that trains women artisans from San Mateo del Mar and Vicente Camalote in Oaxaca.18 However, the participation of Indigenous artisan communities in the design and manufacturing processes is unclear and likely limited—if not entirely absent. A similar dynamic can be observed in the use of mochilas (hand-knitted bags often associated with Indigenous communities) by Colombian designer Silvia Tcherassi in the creation of a brand said to have “pioneered … Latin flair.”19 The brand states that their mochilas are created in “collaboration” with artists from the Wayúu nation, in a process where bags are handwoven by “artisan women” and then taken to the brand’s workshops, where they are hand painted or “embellished with Swarovski crystals and fabrics such as silks and lace.”20 Rather than a horizontal collaboration, the process described by the brand reveals a common discourse that sees Indigenous creatives as simple “artisans” that need the help of designers to elevate their products to the realm of “design,” “art,” or “fashion.” Moreover, the brand claims that mochilas are sacred to the Wayúu nation and explains that their “intervention is non-invasive and respectful of their inherent symbolism” because it maintains the original colors of the mochilas created by Wayúu artists.21 However, studies have shown that materiality is sometimes even more important than color in the creation of symbolism and sacred meaning among many Indigenous nations of Abya Yala, so Silvia Tcherassi’s interventions on mochilas are not necessarily as neutral as the brand claims.22 Yet the embellishment of mochilas is not inherently wrong. Arhuaca de Corazón, a collective of artists from the Arhuaco nation, design their own mochilas, at times embellished with beads of different colors to create the patterns on the bags. Their designs include patterns that represent Kunzachu¯ (the leaf of the sacred trees), freedom, and the opposition of day and night.23 At times, their patterns are simply said to have been inspired by the colors of the sea. Indigenous design collectives like Arhuaca de Corazón are gaining more visibility and agency in Abya Yala. In many cases, they collaborate with local fashion brands—and at times, through these collaborations, Indigenous design collectives gain recognition in their own right—in addition to selling their products directly to consumers thanks to the use of social media and cellphones. For example, Wonder for People, a Colombian footwear brand, works with several artisanal collectives to co-create designs through “participation, experimentation, dialogue, and shared learning.”24 Rather than treating artisanal communities as suppliers, Wonder for People aims to establish long-term relationships that have social, cultural, economic, and environmental impact. The brand’s Design Lab, for example, is aimed at equipping members of these communities with the right tools so that they can become designers in their own right and work independently—not just for the brand—if they so wish.25

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  59

A similar initiative has been developed by Ayni, a Peruvian brand that works with Indigenous textile artists and offers them educational programs. Ayni is a word in Quechua that can be translated as “to reciprocate,” and which encapsulates the importance of equilibrium and exchange in Andean cosmology.26 Ayni, as a concept, “states the key type of relationship in the Andean worldview: that of two making the whole.”27 In the textile arts, ayni is represented in the interlocking designs and “contour rivalry,” where a single motif can be “read” in different ways.28 As a brand, Ayni takes this concept central to Andean cosmologies, translates it as “today for me, tomorrow for you,” and uses it to offer an ethical and conscious approach to fashion.29 The concept of reciprocity is most evident in the brand’s government-funded education initiative of “Ayni Certify,” which offers “formal training and certificates that give [Indigenous textile artists] opportunities to create their own businesses and foster a sustainable and rewarding economic model.”30 Finally, Mexican designer Carla Fernández is perhaps the best known for working with Indigenous and artisan cooperatives in Abya Yala. Her work has been exhibited in several museums around the world, including her first solo exhibition at the Denver Art Museum (May–October 2022).31 For over three decades, Carla Fernández has studied the Indigenous textiles and fashions of Mexico, and since the foundation of her eponymous brand in 2000, she has worked with several artisanal cooperatives throughout the country.32 This work is said to “create contemporary fashion by adapting traditional techniques and styles, empowering communities, especially women, to transform their knowledge and abilities into modern design, and reinvigorating the Indigenous textile traditions of Mexico” in order to develop a more ethical production process that “fully respects copyright of Indigenous individuals and communities.”33 All three brands—Wonder for People, Ayni, and Carla Fernández—belong to a category of “Latin American” fashion brands that have instituted practices to work “collectively” with Indigenous designers in attempts to avoid the exploitative practices that result in cultural appropriation. However, the discourses behind these brands group Indigenous artists into a single group of Indigenous “artisans” that need the help of individuals from the cities and with Western-style education to make Indigenous “crafts” visible to the world. While well intended, these discourses imply that Indigenous textile artists will lose their traditions if urban-based or foreign-owned brands do not help. These implicit discourses can easily fall into what has been termed “white saviorism,” through which “white people, whether explicitly or implicitly, believe that they possess the skills to ‘save’ [racialized] people as they cannot do it themselves.”34 These ideas are rooted in the systemic superiority and privilege afforded to White people as a result of colonialist dynamics that survive into the present day.35 Moreover, within discourses of the brands, the figures of the founders—Makis Medina of Wonder for People, Adriana Cachay and Laerke Skyum of Ayni, and Carla Fernández herself—are more prominent than the artists who are said to be at the core. Indigenous “artisans” are all grouped into a single mass which negates their own agency, individuality, and right to create. Brand discourses determine how Indigenous people should look, what they should wear, and what they are capable of creating, thus perpetuating many of the stereotypes about Indigenous peoples that were developed since the first moments of the European invasions and have continued until today. These stereotypes are based

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  60

Figure 3.2  Mochila by Arhuaca de Corazón. © Laura Beltrán-Rubio 2021 by Wonder for People.

on limited ideas about Indigenous peoples as “Others,” more savage and inferior to the Western European norm. In many cases, the stereotyping of the Indigenous results in the grouping of several nations and cultures into one single “pan-Indian stereotype,” as Sage Paul has argued.36 In fashion, specifically, this can be seen in the mixture of verbal, visual, and material elements from different cultures on the same product. For example, Peruvian brand Kuna has taken the name of the Guna Indigenous nation that inhabits present-day territories of Panama and north-western Colombia, thus stealing the identity of the nation to transform it into a brand identity. The brand works with fibers from the camelids that inhabit the Andean highlands, such as alpaca, llama, and vicuña, and claims to take inspiration from Peruvian ancestral textile craftsmanship for their creations.37 Yet the Guna-Dule (Guna people) inhabit the tropical lands of the Caribbean basin and their textile production uses mostly cotton.38 The brand’s merging of Indigenous cultures reached its peak with its 2017–18 collection, named “Light Alpaca,” which plagiarized the Kené textile arts of the Shipibo people, who inhabit the Peruvian Amazon. Fortunately, the brand was forced to remove the collection from commercial outputs as a result of the continuing protests by Shipibo women from Cantagallo, as Carolina Rodríguez-Guillén has explained.39 However, Kuna continues to exist and profit from the name of the Guna nation, exploiting a limited idea of Indigenous ancestral textile arts that denies the uniqueness of the different Indigenous cultures of Abya Yala. It is especially worrisome that a quick Google search throws the brand’s website (as a paid advertisement) prior to any information about the original Indigenous culture from which the brand took its name. A pan-Indian aesthetic has also been promoted by Colombian brand Agua e lulo, which has offered shoes that combine Guna molas with Wayúu pompons. The merging of two different cultures to create a product that can be described simply as “Indigenous” denies the specificity and wealth of different Indigenous cultural manifestations and perpetuates colonialist ideas about a single Indigenous “other.” However, unlike Kuna, Agua e lulo works directly with Guna-Dule and Wayúu artists from Colombia and recognizes them as authors of the pieces.40 For example, sandals with Wayúu belts and pompons were created in 2019 under the premise that “weaving is a valuable, ancestral practice that symbolizes creativity and wisdom” and helps wearers tell their own stories.41 In recent collections the brand has begun to work exclusively with molas, seemingly moving away from the merging of cultural elements that results in a pan-Indian stereotype. The dynamics behind the work of brands with Indigenous artists and the imaginary of a pan-Indian stereotype are founded on broader discourses about the superiority of art over craft and designer over artisan that have excluded so many people and cultural manifestations from the writing of art and design histories.Within Latin American design, these dynamics also reflect a decades-long tradition where government-funded institutions have attempted to foster Indigenous artisanship to modernize industrial design within the region and find a local “Latin taste.” Such was the case of Artesanías de Colombia, funded in 1964 as a government office with aid from the United States’ Peace Corps. In general terms, Artesanías de Colombia went through a process of “cataloguing Native products, improving them, so that they could be reproduced in a more numerous series and be susceptible of being commercialized abroad, mainly in the United States.”42 Like Artesanías de Colombia and other government initiatives, Latin American fashion designers and brands often extend a colonialist mentality that differentiates urban designers

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  62

Figure 3.3  “Wale Keru” espadrilles by Karen Walaala for Agua e lulo. Photography by Succo Studio, 2019. Reproduced with permission of Agua e lulo.

with Western education from Indigenous “artisans” who work collaboratively and in community settings. As a result, many Latin American brands end up perpetuating the perceived superiority of Western impositions over Indigenous heritage despite working with Indigenous artists in the creation of their designs. A better alternative—and ideally the best practice—would be for Indigenous artists themselves to gain more visibility and “Indigenize” the fashion systems of Abya Yala as a strategy to actively “squeeze out” the colonialist dynamics of appropriation, plagiarism, extractivism, and collaboration, as Siksika/Blackfoot curator and art historian AmberDawn Bear Robe has suggested.43 The work of Annaiss Yucra and Dayana Molina, Indigenous designers from Peru and Pindorama (Brazil) respectively, takes on their heritage to make visible the diversity and wealth of Indigenous cultural manifestations while, at the same time, challenging limited and stereotypical ideas of what Indigenous fashion is and can be.44 Both designers consider themselves “artivists” and see an immense potential in fashion to change the social and cultural dynamics of contemporary societies. Most importantly, both designers offer excellent examples of local moves towards the Indigenization of fashion design in Abya Yala. Annaiss Yucra’s artivism aims to create fashion that reflects upon contemporary social problems and leads consumers to question the state of the world in which we live.45 Soon after graduating from Nottingham Trent University, Yucra launched her eponymous fashion brand, which demonstrates that Indigenous fashion from Abya Yala is part of contemporary fashion rather than something of the pre-invasion past. The brand also proposes that Indigenous fashion has the potential to change lives, by introducing a multifaceted view of sustainability that takes into account both the environment and human dignity and implements both ancestral Indigenous textile techniques and vegetal alternatives to leather, such as pineapple fibers, in the production of their designs.46 Yucra’s positive impact within contemporary fashion has been confirmed by several prizes and awards: the collection “Matriarcado,” which denounced abuse and oppression against the women and girls of Peru, made Annaiss a semi-finalist of the Redress Design Award 2020, and in 2022 the brand was awarded the Positive Impact Project of the Year at the Latin American Fashion Summit in Miami.47 In short, Yucra’s most powerful achievement is questioning, through her designs and design practices, what Indigenous fashion is and can be. But Annaiss Yucra also offers some answers to what Indigenizing fashion in Abya Yala— and the rest of the world—could look like. In addition to the designs for her eponymous brand, which have increasingly gained international acclaim, Yucra proposes self-representation as an essential aspect towards the Indigenization of fashion. Perhaps one of the most potent examples of Indigenous self-representation resulted from the designer’s collaboration with Quechua-speaking singer Renata Flores Rivera for the video of her single “Chañan Cori Coca.” The song borrows the name from, and is inspired by, the Inka foundational figure who actively fought in support of Pachakutec against the Chancas’ invasion of and attack on Cusco.48 The main visual reference informing Yucra’s costume designs for the music video was an eighteenth-century portrait of Chañan Cori Coca now at the Inka Museum at Universidad San Antonio Abad in Cusco.49 In the painting, Chañan Cori Coca is portrayed wearing a dark-brown ensemble of anaku (dress) and lliklla (mantle) fastened respectively with a chumbi (belt) around the waist and a T-shaped tupu

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  64

Figure 3.4  The Warrior: costume designed by Annaiss Yucra for Renata Flores’s “Chañan Cori Coca” music video. Reproduced with permission of Annaiss Yucra and Renata Flores Rivera.

(pin) on the chest. A cream-colored ñañaca (headdress) flanked by a pyramid with white, orange, and light-brown feathers crowns her head, and, in her left hand, she holds a chumpi (staff) with a seven-point star.50 All these elements, in fact, appear in the costumes designed for the music video. In the first look—“the warrior”—the anaku is transformed into a modern, champagne-colored dress made up of a corseted bodice that recalls the rigidity of military armory and a bellshaped skirt adorned with T-shaped pendants of the same shape as the tupu featured in the eighteenth-century portrait. The ñañaca is replaced by a large headdress made of orange feathers and, instead of the chumpi, Renata holds a large seven-point star made with a reflective material. The seven-point star also appears in the second look—“the futuristic star”—which consists of a leotard with superposed stars of different sizes in white and shades of orange, yellow, and blue colors. The final look—“the princess”—takes on the reticular structure of Inka tocapu, to create a crocheted dress made up of squares with motifs that appear commonly in Andean textiles: circles, suns, crosses, and checkerboard patterns. The braided hairstyle in this case was inspired by Moche hats.51 With more than 250,000 views on YouTube, and an accompanying videogame, the audiovisual materials for the song “Chañan Cori Coca” offer platforms to share Inka and Andean histories to a younger audience.52 Renata Flores Rivera’s use of Quechua also provides new opportunities for Quechua-speakers in Abya Yala to take pride in their language and, hopefully, for non-Quechua-speakers to find a new interest in Indigenous languages and combat the systemic discrimination faced by those who do not speak Spanish in the region. The costume designs by Annaiss Yucra, in turn, offer new possibilities for Indigenous fashion in Abya Yala, demonstrating its relevance in contemporary fashion systems and its attractiveness, based on the modern interpretation of the textile primacy of the Andes. Like Yucra, Indigenous stylist and designer Dayana Molina, from Pindorama, has also chosen the term “artivist” to refer to herself and her work in fashion and has become an outstanding exponent of the Indigenization of fashion in Abya Yala. Molina was born in Nitéroi, in the state of Rio de Janeiro, where her maternal grandmother grew up after being kidnapped and taken away from her hometown in Pernambuco.53 A member of the Fulni-ô nation, Molina’s grandmother inculcated in her their Indigenous culture, cosmovision, and heritage, such that Molina self-identifies as an Indigenous woman working in contemporary fashion. Indigenous representation in the fashion systems of Abya Yala has remained scarce as a result of discourses that relegate Indigenous histories to the pre-­invasion past and make the existences and experiences of contemporary Indigenous peoples invisible. Therefore, Molina has argued, being an Indigenous woman working in fashion is an enormous challenge and a socially potent act that could change the exclusive and racist narratives that still dominate the fashion systems of Abya Yala. Thus, Molina aims to decolonize fashion by increasing the visibility of Indigenous creatives and beauty, while challenging the stereotypical narratives that only Figure 3.5 (right)  The Futuristic Star: costume designed by Annaiss Yucra for Renata Flores’s “Chañan Cori Coca” music video. Reproduced with permission of Annaiss Yucra and Renata Flores Rivera. Figure 3.6 (overleaf  )  The Princess: costume designed by Annaiss Yucra for Renata Flores’s “Chañan Cori Coca” music video. Reproduced with permission of Annaiss Yucra and Renata Flores Rivera.

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view Indigenous existence as “exotic” and belonging exclusively to isolated and rural areas like the Amazon.54 For Molina, decolonizing fashion requires changing the narrative and she has aimed to do so by working collectively in multiple initiatives. In 2016, she founded her fashion brand, Nalimo, with the purpose of offering more conscious approaches to fashion in Pindorama; in 2020, she co-created the Coletivo Indígenas Latinoamérica (Indigenous Collective Latin America) to increase the visibility of Indigenous participants of the fashion systems of Abya Yala; and in January 2021, she co-founded the Aldeia Criativa Design do Futuro (Creative Village for the Future of Design), which aims to prepare new Indigenous talent to work in the global fashion industries and connect them with other creatives.55 Altogether, these initiatives demonstrate Molina’s premise that Indigenous people in Abya Yala “are free to create a creative world with authenticity and autonomy.”56 But perhaps the most powerful materialization of Molina’s work towards the Indigenization of fashion in Abya Yala was her creation of the dress “Útero de Abya Yala” for E! Entertainment Brazil in the context of the Met Gala. Designed in collaboration with Gabrieli Lecoña, Dayana Molina’s assistant, the dress symbolized the act of giving birth by an Indigenous woman in Abya Yala. The dress is entirely of red color, with a single, voluminous sleeve over the right shoulder, with undulating borders, that resembles the petals of a flower. Bordering the neckline and on the chest are red-colored crocheted flower appliqués and pompoms of various tones of red. Long fringes of different shades of red hang under the appliqués on the left side of the dress, representing the bleeding of the uterus/woman.57 The waist is cinched with a belt with a red, white, and black chevron pattern. The dress was presented in a fashion film streamed on E! Entertainment and shared on the TV channel’s social media along with its transmission of the 2022 Met Gala.58 Modeled by Zahy Guajajara, of the Tenetehara-Guajajara nation, featuring Indigenous music and language (possibly Ze’eng Eté, of the Tupi-Guaraní family, and Zahy Guajajara’s first language), and streamed on a mainstream entertainment channel, the film—and the dress—offer opportunities for an Indigenous rebirth of Abya Yala and its fashion systems.59 However, such a rebirth cannot occur as long as systemic colonialist practices continue to shape the fashion systems of Abya Yala and the rest of the world, for, as Dayana Molina herself has argued: When we think a Latin American country based on a Eurocentric lens, the place with original references becomes an abyss. But when we produce in a more conscious fashion, we can liberate people from unreachable standards. Designers can then point to real solutions for the future. And if we place human beings at the center of these ways of thinking, everything becomes easier and possible. Our power for change lies in our relationships, communication, and dialogue.60

To Indigenize fashion thus requires expanding Indigenous fashion and arts beyond Native media so that they inundate mainstream discourses about fashion, without limiting Indigenous cultural production to stereotypical “conventions or expectations of what ‘Indian’ art or dress should be.”61 Indigenizing fashion requires the recognition that “fashion was never exclusively European, but [Indigenous people] have been actively ignored, degraded, or excluded from the written documentation of fashion’s history.”62 Indigenizing fashion

Chapter 3  Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion  69

needs a change in narrative so that it can be broadly “acknowledg[ed] and respect[ed] that Indigenous fashion existed and continues to exist, but also understanding that Indigenous designers have a lot to offer the broader fashion world, and the gatekeepers must actively seek to include [them].”63 Finally, Indigenizing fashion requires mainstream creators of fashion and fashion “gatekeepers” to step aside so that, in Dayana Molina’s words, “everyone knows that Indigenous stylists can shine, be recognized, and decolonize fashion in Brazil, Latin America” and—I would add—the entire world.64

NOTES 1 See Rebecca R. Stone, Art of the Andes: From Chavín to Inca (London: Thames & Hudson, 2012); Rebecca Stone-Miller, “To Weave for the Sun: An Introduction to the Fiber Arts of the Ancient Andes,” in To Weave for the Sun: Andean Textiles in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, ed. Rebecca Stone-Miller (Boston: MFA Boston, 1992), 10–24. 2 Chloë Sayer and Penny Bateman, “Latin America,” in Textiles, 5000 Years: An International History and Illustrated Survey, ed. Jennifer Harris (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1993), 273. 3 Amber-Dawn Bear Robe, “Indigenizing Fashion: Squeeze Out the Appropriators,” Soundboard 7 (2019), https:// walkerart.org/magazine/soundboard-indigenizing-fashion-amber-dawn-bear-robe. 4 See Catherine Walsh, “¿Interculturalidad y (de)colonialidad? Gritos, grietas y siembras desde Abya Yala,” in Poéticas e políticas da linguagem em vias de descoloniazaçâo, ed. Alai Garcia Diniz et al. (São Carlos: Pedro & João Editores, 2017), 19–53. 5 See, for example, Joanne Pillsbury et al., eds., Golden Kingdoms: Luxury Arts in the Ancient Americas (Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum and The Getty Research Institute, 2017); Margaret Young-Sánchez and Fronia W. Simpson, eds., Andean Textile Traditions: Papers from the 2001 Mayer Center Symposium at the Denver Art Museum (Denver: Denver Art Museum, 2006). 6 Joanne B. Eicher and Tonye V. Erekosima, “Why Do They Call it Kalabari? Cultural Authentication and the Demarcation of Ethnic Identity,” in Dress and Ethnicity: Change Across Space and Time, ed. Joanne B. Eicher (Oxford: Berg, 1999), 140. 7 Ibid., 145. 8 Mariselle-Meléndez, “Visualizing Difference: The Rhetoric of Clothing in Colonial Spanish America,” in The Latin American Fashion Reader, ed. Regina A. Root (Oxford: Berg, 2005), 17–30. 9 See, for example, Magali M. Carrera, “Fabricating Specimen Citizens: Nation Building in Nineteenth-Century Mexico,” in The Politics of Dress in Asia and the Americas, ed. Mina Roces and Louise Edwards (Brighton: Sussex Academic Press, 2008), 215–35. 10 Richard A. Rogers, “From Cultural Exchange to Transculturation: A Review and Reconceptualization of Cultural Appropriation,” Communication Theory 16 (2006): 474–506. 11 Minh-Ha T. Pham, “Racial Plagiarism and Fashion,” QED 4, no. 3 (2017): 68. 12 Ibid., 69.

13 Brenda Mondragón Toledo and Theresa O’Keeffe, “Cultural Appropriation in Fashion: Critiquing the Dispossession of Mayan Culture in Guatemala,” International Journal of Fashion Studies 8, no. 1 (2021): 132. 14 Nicole Phelps, “Carolina Herrera: Resort 2020,” Vogue, June 6, 2019, https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/resort-2020/ carolina-herrera. 15 Laura Beltrán-Rubio, “Objects That Matter: Sarape,” The Fashion and Race Database, April 21, 2021, https://fashionandrace.org/ database/sarape/. 16 Vanessa Friedman, “Homage or Theft? Carolina Herrera Called Out by Mexican Minister,” New York Times, June 13, 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/13/fashion/carolina-­ herrera-mexico-appropriation.html. 17 Laura Beltrán-Rubio, “Objects That Matter: Huipil,” The Fashion and Race Database, January 14, 2021, https:// fashionandrace.org/database/huipil/. 18 Ibid. 19 Mayte Allende, “Silvia Tcherassi Resort 2018,” Women’s Wear Daily, June 9, 2017, https://wwd.com/runway/resort-2018/ new-york/silvia-tcherassi/review/. 20 “An Artisanal Love Affair,” Silvia Tcherassi, https://www. silviatcherassi.com/eu/en/blog/an-artisanal-love-affair-1. 21 Ibid. 22 See, for example, Maya Stanfield-Mazzi, Object and Apparition: Envisioning the Christian Divine in the Colonial Andes (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2013); and Ana María Falchetti, Lo humano y lo divino. Metalurgia y cosmogonía en la América antigua (Bogotá: Instituto Colombiano de Antropología e Historia – ICANH, 2018). 23 Mochilas Arhuacas (@arhuacadecorazon), Instagram account, https://www.instagram.com/arhuacadecorazon/. 24 “About Us,” Wonder for People, https://wonderforpeople.com/ pages/about-us-1. 25 Makis Medina and Laura Beltrán-Rubio, “Makis Medina: Wonder for People,” Culturas de Moda, September 14, 2020, https://culturasdemoda.com/makis-medina-wonder-for-­ people/. 26 Constance Classen, Inca Cosmology and the Human Body (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1993), 11. 27 Stone, Art of the Andes, 18. 28 Ibid.

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29 “Our Universe,” Ayni, https://ayni.com.pe/pages/our-universe. 30 “AYNI CERTIFY – Our Social Impact,” Ayni, https://ayni. com.pe/pages/ayni-certify. 31 Florence Müller, curator, “Carla Fernández Casa de Moda: A Mexican Fashion Manifesto,” Denver Art Museum, May– October 16, 2022, https://www.denverartmuseum.org/en/ exhibitions/carla-fernandez. 32 María José Gonzálvez, “Carla Fernández la diseñadora mexicana que abraza sus raíces,” Grazia, https://graziamagazine.com/mx/ articles/exclusiva-carla-fernandez-sobre-su-visionary-award-endesign-miami-y-la-grandeza-de-mexico/. 33 “… crea moda contemporánea colaborando y adaptando técnicas tradicionales y estilos; empoderando comunidades, especialmente mujeres, canalizando sus conocimientos y destrezas en diseño moderno; revigorizando las tradiciones textiles indígenas de México, y estableciendo un archivo detallado como un legado duradero para futuras generaciones; ideando un modelo de producción ética que respete por completo los derechos de propiedad intelectual de los individuos indígenas y comunidades” (author’s translation). “Carla Fernández,” Fundación Casa Wabi, https://casawabi.org/carla-fernndez-perfil. 34 “Racial Justice Glossary,” Goldsmiths, University of London, https://www.gold.ac.uk/racial-justice/glossary/. 35 Ibid. 36 Sage Paul, “Indigenizing Fashion: Build Our Own Platforms,” Soundboard VII, special issue, “How Can Fashion Be Indigenized?,” June 6, 2019, https://walkerart.org/magazine/ indigenizing-fashion-sage-paul. 37 “Feel the Hands of the Andes,” Kuna, https://kunastores.com/ world/our-essence/. 38 “Molas. Capas de sabiduría,” Museo del Oro del Banco de la República, September 30, 2016–July 16, 2017, https://www. banrepcultural.org/exposiciones/molas-capas-de-sabiduria/. 39 Carolina Rodríguez-Guillén, “Apropiación cultural en la moda,” Culturas de Moda, December 7, 2020, https://culturasdemoda. com/apropiacion-cultural-en-la-moda/. 40 “Nuestra historia,” Agua e lulo, https://col.aguaelulo.com/ nuestra-historia/. 41 Aguaelulopacific (@aguaelulopacific), “La tejeduría es esa práctica ancestral valiosa, símbolo de la creatividad y de la ­sabiduría. Con tus Agua e lulo vas contando historias,” Instagram photo, September 16, 2019, https://www.instagram. com/p/B2flU-9j-rl/c/18097115068101181/. Author’s translation. 42 “Si quisiera resumir el libreto, diría que era una estructura en la que se catalogan las producciones nativas, mejorándolas, para que se puedan reproducir en una serie más numerosa, y que sean susceptibles de comercializarse en el mercado exterior, principalmente en Estados Unidos” (author’s translation, emphasis in the original). Juan Camilo Buitrago-Trujillo, “Diseño en sociedad. Una epistemología del diseño en Colombia,” in Diseño latinoamericano: diez miradas a una historia en construcción, ed.Verónica Devalle and Marina Garone Gravier

(Bogotá: Universidad de Bogotá Jorge Tadeo Lozano, Universidad Santo Tomás y Politécnico Grancolombiano, 2020), 117–18. 43 Bear Robe, “Indigenizing Fashion.” 44 Pindorama means “land good for planting” in the language of the Tupi nation and guaraní. It has been proposed by Indigenous people as an alternative name for the country commonly known as Brazil. 45 Isabel Ávila, “Annaiss Yucra, conoce a la diseñadora peruana,” Vogue México, June 12, 2020, https://www.vogue.mx/moda/ articulo/annaiss-yucra-disenadora-de-modas-peruana. 46 Esther Gallego, “Annaiss Yucra: ‘Una prenda nuestra es para marcar una diferencia en el mundo,’” Vein, December 29, 2021, https://vein.es/annaiss-yucra/. 47 “Isabel Annaiss Yucra Mancilla,” Redress Design Award, https:// www.redressdesignaward.com/2020/isabel-annaiss-yucra-­ mancilla; “Pitch to LAFS: Meet the 2022 Winners,” Latin American Fashion Summit, https://www.latamfashionsummit. com/pitch-to-lafs-2022/. 48 Luis Ramos Gómez, “Mama Guaco y Chañan Cori Coca: un arquetipo o dos mujeres de la Historia Inca. (Reflexiones sobre la iconografía de un cuadro del Museo de la Universidad de San Antonio Abad del Cuzco),” Revista Española de Antropología Americana 31 (2001): 172. 49 Valeria Ghersi, “Conoce a la guerrera inca Chañan Cori Coca a través del nuevo single y videoclip de Renata Flores,” Latex Magazine, December 30, 2020, https://latexmagazine.com/ musica-renata-flores-videoclip-guerrera-­inca-chanan-coricoca/. 50 Jaime Borja, ed., “La Ñusta Chanan Cori Coca. Retrato,” ARCA. Cultura visual de las Américas, http:// artecolonialamericano.az.uniandes.edu.co:8080/ artworks/1180. 51 Ghersi, “Conoce a la guerrera inca.” 52 Renata Flores, “Renata Flores – Chañan Cori Coca /Imperio/,” YouTube video, November 28, 2020, https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=au81GcSOVOs. 53 Paula Mello, “Conheça Dayana Molina, a stylist indígena que está promovendo um diálogo importante na moda,” Vogue Brazil, September 8, 2020, https://vogue.globo.com/moda/ noticia/2020/09/conheca-dayana-molina-stylist-­indigena-queesta-promovendo-um-dialogo-importante-na-moda.html. 54 Dayana Molina, “Criativos indígenas: é urgente descolonizar a indústria da moda,” Elle Brasil, October 21, 2020, https://elle. com.br/moda/criativos-indigenas-e-urgente-descolonizar-a-­ industria-da-moda/particle-6. 55 “Comienzo,” Nalimo, https://es.nalimo.com.br/. 56 “Somos livres para criarmos um mundo criativo com autenticidade e autonomia” (author’s translation). Molina, “Criativos indígenas.” 57 Day Molina (@molina.ela), “Criei um vestido para a semana do MET GALA … ” Instagram video, April 27, 2022, https:// www.instagram.com/p/Cc3i1-yj2mQ/. 58 Ibid.

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59 Adriano Pedrosa, curator, “Video Room: Zahy Guajajara,” Museu de Arte de São Paulo, August 28–September 28, 2021, https:// masp.org.br/en/exhibitions/zahu-guajajara. 60 “Quando se pensa sob a lente eurocêntrica em um país latino, esse lugar de verdadeiras referências, torna-se abismo. Mas quando se produz de forma mais consciente, isso pode libertar pessoas dessa necessidade de padrões inalcançáveis. O designer pode apontar soluções reais para o futuro. E se o centro desse pensamento for o ser humano, isso se torna mais fácil e possível. Nosso poder de mudança está no relacionamento, na comunicação e nos diálogos” (author’s translation). “Mulheres que inspiram: Dayana Molina faz moda com identidade,” Harpers Bazaar Brasil, April 19, 2021, https://harpersbazaar.uol.com.br/

moda/mulheres-que-inspiram-dayana-molina-faz-moda-comidentidade/. 61 Bear Robe, “Indigenizing Fashion.” 62 Jessica R. Metcalfe, “Indigenizing Fashion: Push for Real Inclusion, Not Tokenism,” Soundboard 7 (2019), https://walkerart.org/ magazine/soundboard-indigenizing-fashion-jessica-metcalfe. 63 Ibid. 64 “Que todos saibam que existe estilista indígena brilhando, sendo reconhecida e descolonizando a moda no Brasil e América Latina!” (author’s translation). Day Molina (@molina.ela), “Mais algumas imagens do figurino Útero Abya Yala … ” Instagram photo, April 29, 2022, https://www.instagram.com/p/ Cc9aIi2NTHZ/.

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C A S E S T U DY: 1/8 TA K AMU R A X A R T E S A N Í A T E X T I L A R T E - F E R C U A D R O T L A H U I B LO U S E

Melissa Marra-Alvarez “The blouse is identity.”1 This is how the Mixe people of Santa María Tlahuitoltepec in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico, refer to their Xaam Nïxuy blouse, a traditional garment featuring a distinct style of embroidery and symbols representative of and unique to their community. Mexican designer Guillermo Vargas believes that clothes should inspire a dialogue with cultural heritage and this has been a goal of his fashion label 1/8 Takamura. The name, 1/8 Takamura, is in fact a tribute to Vargas’s Japanese and Mexican roots. “I firmly believe in the construction of meaning through design,” Vargas expressed. “Beyond clothes as objects used or disused, I consider them positive contributions to our mode of being and how we interpret this world.”2 Over the years, fashion has become a means by which to examine the interplay between his Mexican and Japanese heritage, resulting in garments that feature loose asymmetrical silhouettes and stark geometric forms. In 2018, Vargas led a patternmaking workshop at the Museo Textil de Oaxaca for local artisans, which was intended to stimulate novel ways of interpreting the traditional work of Indigenous makers. During the workshop, Vargas met Paula Pérez, an embroiderer from the village of Santa María Tlahuitoltepec. Finding commonalities in their approaches to making clothes, one of which was rooted in a shared design philosophy that explores geometry, Vargas and Pérez were inspired to collaborate on a project. Vargas’s 1/8 Takamura teamed up with Pérez’s business Artesanía Textil Arte-Fer and her weaver partner Fernando Gutiérrez. Together they created Cuadro Tlahui, a blouse that combines Santa María Tlahuitoltepec embroideries with the construction of the 1/8 Takamura square-cut Cuadro blouse that is a signature garment of the brand.

Figure 3A.2  Aerial view. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Cuadro Tlahui is a loose-fitting cotton muslin blouse with an inset front placket with four buttons, a stand collar, short sleeves, and hip-length handkerchief hem. It also features yellow and brown embroidered detailing. The shape of this blouse derives from a square piece of cloth folded in half, similar to the geometry found in many Indigenous garments. The addition of a collar, sleeves, and front placket underline the tailored nature of the shirt. When fully opened, and laid out flat, the outline of the blouse forms a square. A closer inspection, however, reveals seaming at the shoulders and adjacent to the hem, clearly indicating the blouse was put together from several pieces of fabric. The seaming on the blouse also shows that the embroidered panels were completed prior to the top being assembled.

Figure 3A.1 (overleaf )  1/8 Takamura × Artesanía Textil Arte-Fer, Cuadro Tlahui blouse, 2020, Mexico. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. Aerial view. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Case Study: 1/8 Takamura X Artesanía Textil Arte-Fer Cuadro Tlahui Blouse  73

Designed by Pérez, an elaborate motif of yellow and brown machine-stitched embroidery adorns the blouse. Representations of water, sun, mountains, and maguey (a type of agave plant) are rendered in an interlaced design with zigzag, straight, and undulating stitching. This embroidery outlines the collar and front placket, and two intricate rows adorn the bodice. A row across the upper chest extends up over the shoulders and down the back, resulting in a square shape that frames the collar in a yolk-like effect. Lower down, a second panel of embroidery forms a similar pattern around the midsection of the blouse. These two concentric squares serve to emphasize the geometry of the top. Lastly, an embroidered panel made from a double layer of fabric decorates the sleeves. This has been separately attached to create a sleeve sewn in two pieces. The embroidered elements on the blouse are characteristic of the local landscape and reflect Mixe beliefs about the relationship between heaven and earth, and life and nature.3 More than the work of an individual artist, these embroideries are expressions of the culture and identity of the community. For the Cuadro Tlahui blouse two embroidery colorways were created: one in red and black, a color scheme traditionally used by the Mixe community, and the other yellow and brown, specifically selected by Pérez for this project. The project took almost two years to complete, with Vargas based in Mexico City and Pérez in Oaxaca. “This type of collaboration cannot be compared to a an industrial system of making clothes, it is much more than that, it is an artistic process that needs to be acknowledged, respected, and valued,” Vargas said.4 The process began by sending the Cuadro to Pérez so that the artisan could understand its construction and silhouette. Afterwards, Vargas traveled to Oaxaca to work with her in the design of the embroidery and placement of the motifs. The development of this garment required shipping samples back and forth and multiple in-person meetings in Oaxaca until the design was finalized. This was followed by the laborious undertaking of Pérez hand-drawing motifs onto each

Figure 3A.4  Embroidery detail. Cuadro Tlahui blouse. Guillermo Vargas Ayluardo, Artistic Director and Founder of 1/8 Takamura; Paula Pérez Vázquez, Artisan and Textile Artist; Paulina Chávez, Photographer; Jessica Arroniz Tenorio, Brand Manager 1/8 Takamura.

of the pattern pieces before machine embroidering them. Lastly, the embroidered pieces were returned to Mexico City where they were assembled and prepared for sale. A total of twenty-five blouses were produced and sold. The Cuadro Tlahui blouse exemplifies how living traditions and contemporary fashion can nurture each other, and how horizontal design collaborations transform the relationship between fashion and textile art. In 2015,

Figure 3A.3 (previous page)  Embroidery detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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Santa María Tlahuitoltepec’s Xaam Nïxuy blouse was copied by the French fashion designer Isabel Marant as part of her spring/summer Etoile collection. Marant was accused of plagiarism and the community asked for reparations from the designer, spotlighting the issue of cultural appropriation within the fashion industry. This has been a widespread problem as Indigenous designs are often reproduced without so much as an acknowledgment of them being cultural patrimony. For many Indigenous communities, such designs embody their heritage and histories and are thus valued as part of their

cultural identity. Guillermo Vargas sees fashion as an outward expression of the world we want to create, and the Cuadro Tlahui blouse is a fulfillment of this belief. The garment is an examination of Mixe’s living traditions that challenges ideas about tradition and modernity, heritage and design. Its creation reflects the willingness of artisans to partner with contemporary fashion. Through the shared agency of the collaborators, new design values are shaped which, in turn, create a shared contemporary design language.

NOTES 1 Quoted on the Instagram account of 1/8 Takamura (@1.8takamura), May 31, 2020. 2 CNX, “Guillermo Vargas: el artista que reinterpreta la magia de la geometría con 1/8 Takamura,” Vogue Mexico, online, November 8, 2021, https://www.vogue. mx/moda/articulo/tejiendo-mexico-moda-por-lincolnguillermo-vargas-y-su-marca-1-8-takamura-participantes.

3 Yazmín Romero, “The Embroidery of Tlahui: An Inspiration from Oaxaca,” The Mexicanist, August 2, 2022, https://www.mexicanist.com/l/the-embroidery-oftlahuitoltepec/. 4 Email correspondence with author translated by Tanya Meléndez-Escalante, August 2, 2022.

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4

Fashion and Art: Trans-discipline and Cultural Intersections in the Work of Designers of Latin American Heritage Tanya Meléndez-Escalante

A

rt and fashion are two of the most influential forms of cultural production today. Fashion designers have longed to be part of the world of art since Charles Frederic Worth proclaimed himself an artist in the nineteenth century, and artists have found rich material for analysis and critique in people’s fascination with appearance. Born in the United States, and of Mexican descent, designer Rick Owens said in an interview, “Fashion is very similar to art. Cultural aesthetics will outlive us all. We’re making clothes that nobody on the planet needs. My clothes are pure creative expressions. But pure creative expression is essential to the world.”1 Much has been written about the relationship between these two disciplines. As part of culture, there are

Figure 4.1  Sánchez-Kane performance and installation “Macho Sentimental Vol. II” at Palais de Tokyo, Paris, 2019. Courtesy of Bárbara SánchezKane. Creative direction: Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Performers: Morena Valdés, Pepe Romero, Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Photograph: Paola Vivas.

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multiple ways in which fashion design has utilized art and its media and vocabulary to turn them into styles. Often designers overlap in their use of motifs, modes of presentation, and even clientele. In the end, contemporary society craves fashion as much as it admires art. Just as Owens described the proximity between fashion and art, a number of designers of Latin American heritage have flirted with both throughout their careers. Oscar de la Renta studied painting in Madrid before becoming a designer, while Jonathan Cohen has used his own photographs as part of his fashion collections. A variety of artistic disciplines have influenced designers of Latin origin including Francisco Costa and Humberto Leon. For her resort 2022 collection, Uruguay-born Gabriela Hearst emblazoned knits with architectural wonders from various parts of Latin America. While there is no consensus on the question of whether fashion is an art, it is safe to assert that both disciplines take inspiration from one another. Exhibitions such as Fashion and Surrealism (1987–1988) at The Museum at FIT in New York and Rapture: Arts Seduction by Fashion (2002) at the Barbican Centre in London have approached the topic, the former from fashion’s perspective and the latter from that of art. Numerous authors have also studied the subject in varying degrees of depth.Vicki Karaminas and Adam Geczy survey these books, exhibitions, controversies, and intersections in their book, Fashion and Art. There they explain, Fashion uses art in its rhetoric, derives a countless array of its idioms and expression from art, such as concept and installation, and vies with art for the esteem and social prominence that is afforded to the arts and high culture— architecture, music, theater, and art—but this, we would aver, is part of its nature, namely, to maintain a perverse and agonistic relationship to art.2

Indeed, both disciplines coexist, enriching and questioning each other in dialectic tension. An anecdote related by Narciso Rodríguez illuminates the imbalance in prestige between art and fashion in some Latin American contexts. As a young student, Rodríguez had to lie to his parents about pursuing a degree in fashion, telling them that he was enrolling to study painting because “in a Cuban macho household sewing [by men] is forbidden.”3 The designer’s experience highlights the value attributed to art as a more acceptable discipline than fashion. For some designers such as Maria Cornejo, art was a point of entry into fashion. For others, like Carla Fernández, who holds a degree in art history, it was the only available option, since fashion as a field of study was not offered by universities in Mexico City. For those designers who studied architecture, design, art, and art history, those studies often helped them build networks in the world of culture. This chapter will analyze not only the work of fashion designers of Latin American heritage who have incorporated art into their practice on an ongoing basis but also their role in the cultural milieu of their respective localities. Why do artists and curators gravitate towards specific brands, for example? While there is a plethora of Latin American and Latinx brands that have at times referenced art, this chapter focuses on a limited number of designers for whom art is essential to their practice. Through the words of the designers themselves, it examines cases that illustrate the ways in which these creators engage with artistic fields including dance, architecture, and others. Even

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though clustering a group of designers under the umbrella of Latin American heritage might seem to be an imposed categorization, it nevertheless addresses a few points of intersection.The designers included here have incorporated their experiences in the Latin American region into their work and a number of them have also expressed an intentional willingness to address issues that affect the Americas. The text has been loosely organized into two sections. The first section addresses the ways in which designers collaborate with artists and participate in spheres of cultural influence. Many have become cult brands for the art world including Rick Owens, Zero+Maria Cornejo, and Carla Fernández on a more international stage and PTRA and Julia y Renata in their own countries. Does this success stem from the personal relationships that they have developed over the years? Is it because of the type of garments they design? The second part looks at designers who have chosen to home in on certain art movements or disciplines. Both minimalism and brutalism seem to have a particular appeal for many creators. Owens works from a brutalist space in Concordia, Italy, a “blank slate” where he can focus on designing his collections.4 Narciso Rodríguez has for a long time been described as minimalist and architectural. Brazilian designer Francisco Costa has said, Minimalism is often understood through modernity but can be found in various forms, from the juxtaposed shapes of primitive art to the sleek lines of 1920s Art Moderne. Dadaism, and the Bauhaus, and Italian futurism have all contributed to the ways in which we view minimalism, and each of these movements has in turn influenced me. I often look to film, sculpture, photography, and architecture for inspiration.5

It is this broad understanding of minimalism that various designers seem to adhere to. Performance art also seems to be of great interest to these fashion designers. Many of them seem eager to create projects in museums and galleries or to use new media to explore the possibilities of the body as an artistic site.

Fashion and Cultural Intersections: Collaborating with and Dressing the Artistic Elites In her autobiography, Roots of Style, the designer Isabel Toledo wrote, “Fashion may be the most democratic of all the art forms because we all have to go through the ritual of dressing ourselves every day.”6 The work of Isabel Toledo seems inextricably linked to that of her artist husband, Ruben Toledo. Born in Cuba a year apart, they met in high school in New Jersey, fell in love a few years later, and were a power couple in the New York fashion scene starting in the 1980s until Isabel’s untimely death in 2019. While he was still a high-school student, Ruben’s first art sale was to the fashion store Fiorucci, photographs of his then-friend, Isabel, which he altered by painting them. At Fiorucci the Toledos met artists such as Keith Haring and Andy Warhol, and it was there that they sold the first clothes that they designed for the Isabel Toledo brand. Fiorucci is a prime example of how fashion and art always found ways of connecting for the couple. As Kim Hastreiter put it, “Ruben’s paintings cross over into the world of fashion; Isabel’s fashion crosses over into the world of art.”7

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Over the years Isabel Toledo developed themes in her work, which she used to explain her experimentations with fabric, draping, cut, and patterns. They had romantic names such as organic geometry, liquid architecture, shape, shadow, manipulated surfaces, and suspension. Her spring 1998 Hermaphrodite dress is an exploration of this last theme. In 2007, the New York Times critic Guy Trebay praised the innovativeness and eccentricity of that specific garment. He also described Isabel Toledo as an “indy darling,” elaborating that her “formalist designs, like the best architecture, rarely omit the frisson of sex.”8 Fashion curator Patricia Mears explains, “Suspension, or the condition of being hung or hanging from a support, is often thought of in the world of design in connection with bridge-building and civic architecture. Toledo uses the concept, however, to craft jersey and taffeta dresses that hang from wide bands of fabric or that puff effortlessly from thin cords.”9 The Hermaphrodite dress is a prime example of the ideas outlined by Mears. It is a sculptural garment where the interplay of gravity and tension create an abstract form that envelops the human body. The name of the dress was derived from the fact that it can be “manipulated to change the garment’s shape: a strategically placed puff of fabric, centered at the lower torso, that can be pulled out to form a faux phallus, or tucked in to become a pocket.”10 To Isabel Toledo, “Fashion design is—like painting or sculpture—an enduring art form with its own, distinctive, exquisite language … Every time I create a new design, it is in hopes of discovering or sculpting a new letter that I can utilize and add to my personal design alphabet.”11 As such, between 1998 and 2005, Toledo designed multiple versions of this garment, using chiffon in the earlier version and taffeta in the later years. Viewing an illustration of the Hermaphrodite dress side by side with the garment brings the Toledos’ creative partnership to the fore; it involved the work of Isabel and Ruben in tandem. She focused on technique, designing in her head three-­ dimensionally and creating prototypes. Afterwards, she would describe her concepts to Ruben, who would sketch them. His drawings became the vehicle to communicate her abstract ideas.12 The Hermaphrodite dress has been featured in multiple exhibitions including Toledo/ Toledo: A Marriage of Art and Fashion (1998) at The Museum at FIT. Choreographer Twyla Tharp saw the garment there and approached Isabel and proposed using the design at the American Ballet Theater. Isabel explained, The Hermaphrodite dress was, and still is, one of my favorite prototypes, so I excitedly agreed to work with her … The lead female dancer wore the Hermaphrodite dress in chiffon. She was carried like a goddess, tossed about like a flower, and turned upside down during this performance … I don’t know how Twyla could have predicted how the rings on the Hermaphrodite dress would billow out and fill with air as the dancer jumped, becoming a hard form, and then deflate again, emphasizing her movements. For my part, I was astonished. This was truly poetry in motion.13

Figure 4.2 (right)  Ruben Toledo, Hermaphrodite dress, 1998. The Museum at FIT. © The Museum at FIT. Figure 4.3 (overleaf )  Isabel Toledo, Hermaphrodite evening dress, spring 1998, USA. The Museum at FIT. © The Museum at FIT.

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In this collaboration Toledo and Tharp extended the function of this garment from fashion to costume design. Malleability in the use and understanding of fashion is a constant theme for the designers featured in this chapter. Garments will sometimes be seen as commodities, as forms of self-expression, as exercises in architecture, or as conceptual explorations. Isabel Toledo’s career was built on an ongoing partnership with artists, the ultimate example being her symbiotic relationship, creative and personal, with Ruben Toledo. Just as Isabel Toledo was embedded in the New York art scene from the time that she was a student, the design duo Julia y Renata are a brand that, from its founding in the 1990s, developed hand in hand with Mexico’s art scene. In that decade, Guadalajara, Mexico’s second-largest city, experienced a cultural boom. A new generation of artists explored new materials and languages to engage with culture with a global vision.14 Among this creative cohort, fashion designers and sisters Julia and Renata Franco founded their eponymous label, Julia y Renata, whose esthetic aligned with avant-garde international brands such as Martin Margiela and Comme des Garçons. Even though the designers attended a fashion school, their circles had a clear artistic bent. For their first fashion show, which took place in 1994, Guillermo Santamarina was the creative director. Santamarina is an art curator and critic who was very active in Guadalajara at that time and a pivotal figure in the Mexican art scene to this day. Additionally, one of the models was Mariana Munguía, who today is the head of Mexico’s National Office of Visual Arts and has led museums and art organizations in that country. From the earliest years of their brand, the designers were closely connected with the art world. Many of their clients then and now come from the arts world including dancers, visual artists, and curators. For her wedding in 2004, the above-mentioned Munguía commissioned an ensemble from the Franco sisters. Draped to the bride’s figure, the dress was a made-to-measure version of the looks in their collections from that year. The top and skirt are assembled in a style that the designers deemed “architectural,” with strips of fabric arranged to create volume and envelop the wearer’s curves. Subdued and minimalist, the dress was a departure from voluminous styles worn by brides in Guadalajara at the time, a nod to Munguía’s and Julia y Renata’s aesthetic inclinations.15 Today Julia y Renata continues to produce a small number of garments per season, which are quickly snatched up by their loyal clientele. The brand has built a reputation for being experimental and intellectual. As Vogue Runway put it, “they’ve captured a niche market whose members appreciate their novel approach towards clothing and construction.”16 The sisters also manage a retail space called Albergue Transitorio, located on the ground floor of their studio. The offerings at the store include works by other fashion designers, perfumes, and tableware as well as art in the form of painting, sculpture, and prints. Guadalajara remains an influential city in the art world, frequented by artists and curators who regularly stop by Albergue Transitorio. The store is a meeting place for the local cognoscenti. Similarly, Chilean-born María Cornejo has had an ongoing dialogue with artists throughout her career. Whether involving them in her gallery space and store, or through her own experimentation with photography and pattern making, or via her close relationship with her artist clients, in the universe of Zero + Maria Cornejo, art has always been present. Growing up in Chile, Cornejo has particularly noted learning to knit with her grandmother, being exposed to the stylishness of her mother and aunt, and visit-

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ing the seamstress to have dresses made that matched her mother’s. The daughter of two politically engaged schoolteachers turned publishers, Cornejo has commented that she never considered fashion as a future career when she was younger. In 1973, when the Salvador Allende government was toppled by Augusto Pinochet, Cornejo’s family fled Chile, eventually finding political asylum in England. She has noted, “I was 12 years old. I couldn’t speak any English; I felt I was drowning.” When the time came to select a track in school, while she had a knack for science, Cornejo decided to pursue art instead. “You know you can’t speak the language, but visually I felt much more confident in doing things in art.”17 It was in art school at Ravensbourne University in London that Cornejo entered the world of fashion. Upon graduation in 1984, she joined forces with her then-romantic partner, John Richmond, to establish the brand Richmond/Cornejo that quickly became successful, opening twenty retail stores in Japan in only two years. Eventually, the couple split, and the brand dissolved, too. For a few years the designer worked with other fashion brands before moving to New York City. In 1997 Cornejo and her husband, the photographer Mark Borthwick, opened a gallery on New York City’s Mott Street which was meant to be a space where the couple could explore their creative impulses. This gallery was an attempt by Cornejo to distance herself from the fashion industry. In this site for experimentation, works of art coexisted with articles of design. Cornejo sold pillowcases and had a rack of clothes for sale. Nicole Phelps wrote that “Her design philosophy was experimental but straightforward: she wanted to see what kind of clothes she could drape from simple, geometric shapes – circles, squares, triangles, and rectangles. The results were sculptural without being stiff.”18 These prototypes were not meant for wholesale but rather were exercises in the possibilities of problem-solving through fashion. Cornejo wanted to create wearable clothes that were comfortable and made of simple materials such as denim, but were also beautiful and interesting. Customers responded positively to these garments. She was approached by Barneys and Collette; both prepaid so that they could carry Cornejo’s designs in their stores. Shortly after opening the shop in Mott Street, the first collection of Zero + Maria Cornejo emerged, and slowly it became a New York-based brand with a loyal following in the art world.19 There might be a dual explanation for the appeal of María Cornejo’s work to artists and curators. On one hand, the clothes are designed to be comfortable, stylish pieces for powerful women with complex lives. On the other hand, beyond being just a commercial commodity, they are the result of experimentation with materiality and form. The designer has said, “Inspiration comes to me more from art and nature than it does from fashion. I don’t get inspired by fashion … for me what’s interesting is to design things that hopefully people don’t have.”20 Over the years Cornejo has continued homing in on the use of geometric shapes in the service of wearability. The artist Paula Hayes has described the brand’s designs as sculptural. The owner of more than 100 Zero designs, in speaking about the designer, she has declared “I would say that I’m monogamous.”21 Cornejo offered a different explanation for her popularity among artists to the Chicago Tribune: “I think because the clothes aren’t obvious, and it can be about them [the wearers]… The clothes are versatile, so they can fit their own personality into them; it becomes about the draping or how you style them up.”22 She has also attributed

Figure 4.4  Julia y Renata, Mariana Munguia wedding ensemble 2004. As displayed at the exhibtion Julia y Renata: Moda y Transformación at the Museo de Arte de Zapopan, November 2020–February 2021. Courtesy of Museo de Arte de Zapopan (MAZ). Photograph by Itzel Hernández.

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the success to her “minimalism with a heart,” and, because the garments “aren’t for any specific body type,” they are kind to women, and make them happy when they “don’t feel good enough.”23 “Her clothes are like cool armor … I put them on and feel sexy and tough. Sometimes I think my entire wardrobe is Maria,”24 the installation artist Tara Donovan has said. For the 15th anniversary of the brand, fifteen artists selected their favorite pieces to create a capsule collection. Among the creators invited were Teresita Fernández, Kara Walker, and Hayes. The artist Cindy Sherman selected the design known as the Opposite Dress as her favorite piece, which is made of jersey, with a scoop neck, and an asymmetrical skirt. Sherman explained, “I own two versions of this dress, I love it so much. I have so many pieces of Maria’s as they’re always the first thing I think about choosing when I want something very flattering, comfortable and, like so many of Maria’s styles, great for traveling.”25 Another designer who is a fixture in her country’s art scene is the Mexican-born Carla Fernández.When her homonymous fashion house had been open for barely two years, she was invited to participate in the 2002 exhibition, “The Air is Blue,” at the museum Casa Estudio Luis Barragán. Curator Hans Ulrich Obrist asked artists to stage art interventions in various rooms in the former house and studio of the revered Mexican architect. The exhibition in Mexico was conceived as a laboratory for experiments, ideas, and concepts “between art and architecture” and explored “how bridges can be built where we go beyond the fear of pooling knowledge.”26 The participation of Carla Fernández in the exhibition involved creating bedding for Barragán’s white room that could also function as garments. The architect had a monastic-looking room with a small single bed. Barragán as an architect drew inspiration from vernacular architecture in Mexico; similarly, Fernández collaborated with traditional dress artisans for her fashion-as-art project. Designed to serve a double function, the garments had openings and folds that could envelop the body but also be functional on a bed. In

Figure 4.5  Portrait of Cindy Sherman with pet bird, photographed for the 15th-anniversary collection, April 20, 2015, at 2.00 p.m. Sherman is wearing the Zero + María Cornejo opposite dress. Photograph by Mark Borthwick. Courtesy Zero + Maria Cornejo.

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Figure 4.6  A set of wool garments that alternatively became the bedding for Luis Barragán’s white bedroom. Carla Fernández for “The Air is Blue,” Casa Museo Luis Barragán, 2002–2003. Photograph by Diego Pérez. Model: Tatiana de León.

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the book that accompanied the exhibition, Fernández wrote, “One little known facet of Barragán is his love for traditional textiles, which cover the tables and bookcases of his house. I set myself the task of making bed linen using these same textiles and traditional shapes, but I also wanted it to be adaptable like the articulations of the house windows, which would double back in many different forms.”27 While this was a project very early in the designer’s career, it was anchored in two practices that are central to the ethos of her brand: that designs be developed in collaboration with artisans and that clothes be created based on simple geometric forms and folds. At that point in her career, Carla Fernández had already started working closely with Indigenous artisans from a cooperative in San Juan Chamula, Chiapas, who produced fabric using ancestral methods. For Fernández, fashion designers are cultural agents; her brand reflects a commitment to making clothes in a way that is an alternative to the fast pace of the dominant fashion system.To this day she collaborates with multiple artisans on an ongoing basis, incorporating their techniques and artistic sensibilities into the design processes. “We recognize these women’s art, if you go to our stores, you will find labels describing the techniques used … We include the names of each one of us … In Mexico there are no greater masters than the artisans in the mountains, rainforests, [and] beaches.” She honors and respects the textile art of her partners, ensuring that the result is profitable for all involved.28 Textile art and geometry intertwine in “Bedding.” The rectangle was the shape favored by Carla Fernández, following the shape of the Chamula textiles. The designer explains, Mexican indigenous clothing results from the joining together of square and rectangular panels. It’s a unique textile origami that uses these two figures as the base from which to construct any other form using folds, pleats and stitching. This system of patterning interests us for both its vernacular significance, which we consider the path to the future, and for its constructive and architectural quality.29

For the Casa Estudio Luis Barragán, the designer created a garment that has become a signature of the brand and is still sold in different iterations. Named the “Barragán,” it is a rectangular garment with two openings that can be worn over the head, as a top (the neckline slightly changing depending on what opening is used), or as a jacket, using both openings for the arms. In the images taken during the performance at the museum, the performer wears it both ways. This project was an early intersection between Carla Fernández and her husband, the artist Pedro Reyes. He brought Barragan’s house to Obrist’s attention, was part of the exhibition, and co-edited its book. In subsequent years, Reyes designed multiple Carla Fernández stores, created sculptural pieces for her projects, and was in charge of the exhibition design in shows featuring Fernández’s work. Reyes, who trained as an architect, is a prominent artist in Mexico, sharing the spotlight with Fernández. They are frequently interviewed together. Often, when one of them has a project, the other one will also participate. For instance, in recent years, while Reyes’s work is featured in Mexico’s Zona MACO, Fernández will have a booth in the art fair. She has a loyal following in the world of art, making the event a prime opportunity for strengthening ties with her rarefied clientele.

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Since her beginnings in projects such as the bedding for “The Air is Blue,” Carla Fernández has explored the encounters between fashion and architecture. She has created collections that honor this discipline. Her book, El manual de la diseñadora descalza (The Manual of the Barefoot Designer) was an homage to Johan Van Lengen’s book, The Barefoot Architect. However, she is far from being the only fashion designer of Latin American heritage whose name is associated with architecture or art.

From Minimalism to Performance: Inspiration and Trans-discipline A child of Cuban immigrants, Narciso Rodríguez is known for streamlined architectural designs. Growing up in New Jersey, he has recalled that his parents were “intimidated that I wanted to pursue a career in fashion or the arts.”30 Despite familial opposition, Rodríguez studied fashion at Parsons School of Design, subsequently working at Oscar de la Renta, Donna Karan, and Calvin Klein before moving to Europe to work as creative director at Cerruti. In 1996 he became an overnight sensation after designing the gown that Carolyn Bessette wore to her wedding to John Kennedy, Jr. Following that pivotal moment, he established his eponymous brand in 1997 while he was helming the Spanish brand, Loewe. Over the years, the designer has maintained that his passion is the process and craft of making clothes. His designs have an understated simplicity in which the cut and materials take center stage. He reduces fashion to the cleanest forms. He has also explained that his brand is “very meticulous about the construction and the make of things.”31 This focus on simplicity and form led Elle to describe Rodríguez’s work as “sharply-cut minimalism.”32 During a talk for WWD, Rodríguez described his work as “a celebration of the body, and I think there’s something quite romantic and Latin about that.”33 He reminisced that once, when he presented his work in South America, the press expressed surprise at his lack of “red and ruffles,” which he considered a cliché. Instead, he believes the femininity in his work is the true expression of his heritage. While Rodríguez’s connection to minimalism and architecture has been highlighted by critics and the press, other designers are also vocal about art’s influence in their work. A case in point is the US-based house Rodarte, known for wide-ranging cultural references, a devotion to craftsmanship, and an unsettlingly morbid sense of beauty. The sisters Laura and Kate Mulleavy named their brand Rodarte to honor their Mexican-Italian mother through the use of her maiden name. Their designs have drawn inspiration from Japanese horror films, natural forms, and even the tragic events along the Mexico–United States border. The brand’s fall 2009 collection, which included thigh-high boots by Nicholas Kirkwood that alluded to bondage and straitjackets, was inspired in part by the work

Figure 4.7 (next page, left)  Narciso Rodríguez, evening dress, spring 2011, USA. Gift of Mr. Narciso Rodriguez. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. Figure 4.8 (next page, right)  Rodarte, ensemble, fall 2009, USA. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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Figure 4.9  Gordon Matta-Clark, Conical Intersect, 1975. © 2022 Estate of Gordon Matta-Clark / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York Canadian Centre for Architecture Gift of Estate of Gordon MattaClark © Estate of Gordon Matta-Clark/SODRAC.

of Chilean-American artist Gordon Matta-Clark. As Laura Mulleavy explained to Laird Borrelli-Persson of Vogue,“We were interested in the building and taking apart of homes.”34 This is a literal reference to Matta-Clark’s 1970s Anarchitecture, whose members carved sections out of buildings earmarked for demolition. His work “focused on interventions in buildings but also on liminal space … performing actions on buildings by eliminating parts of the real world or transforming garbage into architectural elements.”35 Matta-Clark documented his works through photographs and film which showed rugged concrete and the textural edges created by the openings. These esthetic qualities can be observed in that 2009 collection.The sisters printed fabrics and leather to resemble

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stone, put together as a collage of textures. The designers explained that “[t]he pieces themselves are patch works of marbled prints. The prints are developed from hand painting, dyeing, and silk screening on everything from leather to silk. Almost every surface is made to look like a piece of stone or rock.The leathers are wrinkled and crumpled so that they are three dimensional and stitched together as constructed monsters.”36 The monster that they were referencing here was Dr. Frankenstein’s creation, another inspiration for that season. Three years later Rodarte published a book that brought together the work of two photographers, Catherine Opie and Alec Soth. The designers commissioned Opie to photograph clothes including outfits from fall 2009, and Soth was given a map and instructions to photograph locations and themes. In the essay accompanying the book, John Kelsey describes the designers’ “desire to link fashion design to the production of spaces and worlds” and later in the text refers to their venture as “a kind of map or topological system [that] also splits the fashion image in two: landscape and portrait.”37 Kelsey connects the book with the 2009 collection by describing the garments shot by Opie as “Frankensteinian architectures of stitched-together areas and parts. In this way, an unexpected body is assembled, a glamorous mutant in a constantly mutating space.”38 The book includes numerous photographs of architectural structures, and in it Kelsey muses whether Rodarte’s particular interest is space in fashion. The curator and co-director of the Estate of Gordon Matta-Clark, Jessamy Fiore, elaborated on the artist’s stance on minimalism in an interview. She explained, if one views minimalism as an endpoint of modernism, a distillation of art for art’s sake, its power lies as well with its separation from the real world everyday. Whereas Gordon, and many of his peers, moved away from that entirely—they stepped out of the white cube gallery space and into their urban environment, making work in and of the stuff of everyday life.39

As Matta-Clark’s works addressed urban architecture, built spaces, and man-made voids, the designers’ book focuses on a topography of the mundane. In both the Rodarte collection and book, fashion, art, and architecture intersect as a pastiche of the horror of Frankenstein’s monster and Matta-Clark’s engagement with his urban environment, all through images of deterioration and the materiality of the clothes. In contrast to the inspiration that the Mulleavy sisters found in anarchitecture, minimalism is at the heart of the work of Brazilian-born Francisco Costa. The designer spent his formative years in Brazil, surrounded by fabrics and paper patterns in his mother’s garment manufacturing company. After she passed away, seeking a fresh start, Costa moved to New York, where he attended FIT. Subsequently, he worked for the renowned designers Oscar de la Renta, Tom Ford at Gucci, and Calvin Klein, where he was creative director from 2003 to 2016. In 2016 he founded the eco-conscious beauty line, Costa Brazil. For Costa, minimalism “is about reduction. I like to surround myself with interesting objects, ideas and colors, and then I use a process of elimination to abstract their essence and get to their true spirit.”40 His point of view as a designer is entirely focused on the esthetic qualities of the garment. A case in point is his spring–summer 2019 collection. In the New York Times, Suzy Menkes explained, “This concept of ‘collapsible’ clothes or ‘pop-up’ fashion was original and architectural, bringing an uncompromisingly modern

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look to a wardrobe of simple styles: square dresses, with inserts of origami folds or simple pleats.”41 Lines were sharp; garments could lay flat when not worn on the human body. Costa carefully crafted a collection based on folds and geometric shapes. The color palette was subdued, mostly white and nude, with a few garments in blue and lavender. In the book, Minimalism and Fashion: Reduction in the Modern Era, Elyssa Dimant describes Look 1 of this collection as a “platonic sartorial structure” that “is itself a white cube” and refers to the model wearing it in an advertisement as an “inorganic foundation upon which art can be mounted.”42 Dimant’s words resonate with the concepts outlined by Fiore, the white cube being the territory of minimalism. Minimalism has also been an ongoing theme for Rick Owens, so much so that in 2019 he declared to The Guardian, “I want to be the Donald Judd of fashion,”43 an artist who “considered space itself to be a material just as essential as the industrial surfaces out of which his objects were constructed.”44 The son of a Mexican mother and an American father, Richard Saturnino Owens grew up in the town of Porterville, California, and moved to Los Angeles to study art, eventually abandoning it for fashion. When asked about the interplay between fashion and art, Owens declared that he sees fashion and art as separate disciplines, nevertheless arguing that fashion operates on an equal level with contemporary art “when it comes to self referentiality and the use of codes that are almost subliminal.”45 The designer has an intense spatial vocation. He told i-D that, when designing fashion, he envisions humans as standing in a room like a pillar. In 2007 Owens began co-creating furniture and housewares with his wife, Michèle Lamy. These objects are large, solid, heavy, and textural. “I always think of everything architecturally. The furniture ended up being a natural extension of the clothes. Architecture is what energises me most for clothes anyway.”46 In 2019 the Pompidou Centre, Paris’s National Museum of Modern Art, asked Owens and Lamy to envision a fundraising event as part of their You × Art × Centre Pompidou series. In response, the duo conceived a three-part evening consisting of a visit to an exhibition followed by a performance and culminating in an ephemeral nightclub. The performance piece exemplifies recurring motifs in the work of Owens including theatricality, minimalist impulses, and the activation of architectural space through the fashioned body in motion. The recurrence of themes and techniques is connected to his interest in a consistent body of work. In an interview for Gagosian.com, Owens expressed his admiration for artists whose life arc was so coherent that it became their work of art in itself. “What I think of when I look at art is a completed cycle … I want to see how they [artists] committed themselves to the same standards throughout their lives … My touchstones have always been artists like [Joseph] Beuys.”47 The piece at the Pompidou alluded to this commitment to a unified vision, which characterizes Rick Owens as a lifestyle brand. His interest in theatricality came to the fore in his invitation to seven performers, among whom were performance artist Kembra Pfahler and Estonian rapper Tommy Cash, to move rhythmically on sculptural beds responding to the exhibition on view. The designer gave them loose instructions, asking them to vogue slowly while lying down. The performance closed with Michèle Lamy laughing into the microphone, which she described as her own form of voguing.48 The beds had a rough texture and were made of wood. They served as a stage for the performers and were a nod to minimalism and brutalism. Monolithic in appearance, they were completely black, allowing

Figure 4.10  Francisco Costa for Calvin Klein Collection, spring 2009 Ready-to-wear, Look 1. Photograph by Randy Brooke/ Contributor/Getty Images.

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Figure 4.11  David Hoyle performs during the “Rick Owens’ Carte Blanche” at Centre Pompidou on October 17, 2019 in Paris, France. Photograph by Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/Getty Images.

Figure 4.12  Mother Rheeda performs during the “Rick Owens’ Carte Blanche” at Centre Pompidou on October 17, 2019 in Paris, France. Photograph by Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/Getty Images.

the dancers and their clothes to stand out.Visually, they resembled Mesoamerican pyramids. Owens explains on his website, “I wanted to look at living works of art laying on slabs of modern art, absorbing and projecting themselves into legendary works of art.”49 Owens intervened in an architectural space that was far from neutral, the Pompidou Centre. In multiple interviews the designer has described museums as places imbued in corruption and abuse in the service of beauty and culture. He has not shied away from pointing them out as sites of colonialism. In his 2019 piece he questioned one of the most venerated art museums in France, a country with a legacy of colonial

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exploitation, by asking performers of marginalized extraction to vogue while wearing his spring 2020 collection, post-colonial clothes that he expressly designed to shed light on intolerance. Titled “Tecuatl,” the last name of Owen’s maternal Mixtec Mexican grandmother, this collection was the designer’s reaction to bigotry during the Trump presidency.50 Esthetically, he wanted to present a more abstract representation of Mexican culture that departed from folkloric representations of the country.51 His words are in consonance with Mexico-based fashion designers who also wish to portray its rich culture as a blend of tradition and modernity. For instance, in her Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance, Carla Fernández writes, “To be original is to go back to the origins.”52 The clothes that Owens selected for the event at the Pompidou included loincloths, tailored jackets, dresses with sequins in gold and black tones, and embellished outerwear. The sharp shoulder pads that Owens called “borderline ridiculous” and which were featured in some of the garments were to him, “about defiance in the face of threat,”53 clearly a political statement. His use of sequins, on the other hand, had personal connotations, with Owens describing them:“Like the folkloric China Poblana skirts my mom wore in school pageants growing up in Puebla, Mexico.”54 In Owens’s piece for the Pompidou, the fashionably clad body in motion became the work of art. Once the boundaries between fashion and art collapsed through voguing, it was possible to understand this performance as an extension of his fashion shows at Palais Tokyo, where musicians performed (in the men’s show) and blew bubbles (in the women’s show) as his abstracted and memory-laden Mexican collections were presented to a select few. A number of other Latin American brands also dissolve the boundaries between fashion and art through performativity. In 2017, Fashion magazine described Montserrat Albores Gleason, founder of the label PTRA, as “an artist curator-turned-fashion designer with an amazing mind and clothes.”55 Formed as a visual artist in Mexico and a graduate of the Center for Curatorial Studies at Bard College, Albores Gleason was a well-established contemporary art curator when she decided to become a fashion designer. She first used the name PTRA in 2007 for a flexible arts space where she could experiment with curation, art-making, and the implementation of collaborative projects. The name came from the main character of the 1972 German film The ​​ Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Petra von Kant is a fashion designer who, in the view of Albores Gleason, “is a very mean human being, and then she decides to become good, and, in the moment when she decides to become good, nobody loves her anymore.”56 Ten years later, when Albores Gleason started her fashion brand, she initially named it M. A. Gleason. In preparation for its launch, she attended fashion schools and hired consultants. The logo was created by “Lawrence Weiner, a very dear friend of mine … as a present to me. So, then I had the logo for M.A. Gleason, made by this major artist, and then I discovered that I needed to call [my brand] PTRA because Petra can do whatever she wants.”57 The designer describes her brand as an outcast that does not necessarily fit within the fashion system or the art world. The clothes have, for the most part, been released in seasonal collections. However, the designer is not tied to the fashion calendar and produces intentionally small numbers of items in local workshops where she personally supervises the manufacturing process. Collections are developed painstakingly slowly with defined

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storytelling that informs textile selections and overall silhouettes that are then draped and refined mostly on the dress form. She describes her fashion practice as “this weird space that I have created for myself which is very related to artists, very informed by art. All my collaborations, or the majority of my collaborations, are with artists.” As such, in 2018 Albores Gleason teamed up with another artist, the Mexican Mario García Torres, in the branding of PTRA. Very different from “M.A. Gleason” in design, the logo is simple and bold, white letters on a black background with a mechanical and impersonal feel. In stark contrast, packaging of products is a nod to inexpensive market bags and tags that the designer handwrites herself. PTRA’s fall 2019 collection, titled “004,” was about discomfort in social settings because of the beauty standards imposed on the female body. It also reflected the designer’s mild anxieties about public speaking. For its launch Albores Gleason collaborated with the Mexican artist Claudia Fernández (not to be confused with Carla Fernández). Labeled a performance on the PTRA website, it was titled “Aparta la fecha: esto está pasando mañana/AW2019-20” (Save the date: this is happening tomorrow/AW2019-20). It consisted of a model walking on the runway in a fashion show with no attendees. Claudia Fernández created a disposable runway with cardboard boxes. For the designer, this catwalk was symptomatic of her discomfort with being on public display. She did not want people to come to the show. “I wanted to play with this idea of being outside [of the fashion and art systems] … because I’m in the border.” However, there was ambivalence in this rejection of an audience. She was playing “with [the figure of the] wannabe.When you are in a small project, we all are trying to perform as if we were [a large brand]. I mean I wanted to have my catwalk, I wanted to take a bow, even when there’s no people.” In her writing Elyssa Dimant compares the runway to the white cube gallery: “As an exhibition that lends itself to the serial composition and capitalist drive of the mid-century avant-garde, the fashion show employs the white walls of the modernist gallery as the backdrop for its parade of seasonal fashions.”58 This analogy is pertinent to the inclinations of Albores Gleason, who curatorially came of age in the era of the white cube. In the 004 collection Albores Gleason pondered how stress deforms the human body and posture. She also meditated on how women, herself included, gain and lose weight and how that affects the fit of clothes. Look 3 is a red shift dress made of wool with a boat neck neckline and a vertical slit at the navel. The designer placed buttons on the neckline and waist slit, so the wearer could adjust the dress and wear the garment form-fitting or loose. Albores Gleason created the garment to allow for weight fluctuations. The slit also brings attention to the navel as an erogenous zone and is a nod to images of surrealist lips such as those in Man Ray’s photographs and Salvador Dali’s Mae West Lips Sofa. Unsurprisingly, the majority of PTRA’s clients belong to the world of art. The designer organizes trunk shows when a new collection is released. After that, she cultivates her relationships and opens the doors of her studio for personalized shopping experiences. Over the years the designer has figured out the numbers and sizing that she needs to manufacture for her clientele, avoiding over-production and sustaining her brand through a direct-to-consumer model. The brand is intentionally small and offers a rarefied experience. While Albores Gleason draws tactics from her curatorial background for her fashion creations, Mexico City-born, bi-nationally based (Mexico/US) Victor Barragán (not to be confused with Luis Barragán) weaponizes urban visual culture and is a savvy user of

Figure 4.13  PTRA, 004 Collection Look 3. Photograph Victor Trani, courtesy PTRA.

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the digital realm. The designer dropped out of his studies on industrial design at Mexico’s National Autonomous University when his online fashion business, which he began out of an interest in clothes, though he lacked a background in fashion, took off. His early output consisted of silk-printed T-shirts on which he played with logos and images of celebrities—a sort of visual hacking—that were a success on Tumblr. He explained that one of the shirts featured: a picture of Leonardo DiCaprio, but I made him cry Microsoft logos. I took his image from the ’90s Romeo and Juliet film. I was obsessed with that movie. It was shot mostly in Mexico City; the church in the film is in Colonia del Valle, five blocks away from my dad’s taquería. I posted this shirt to Tumblr and it went crazy. I sold so many of them. With that I could move out of my parents’ house. They still copy it in China.59

Shortly afterwards, he moved to New York City, where he founded the brand Barragán, which focuses on irreverent streetwear. Over the years he has produced snippets of ironic commentary in his social media posts, created live performances that are shared through YouTube, produced video lookbooks, and made animations that are a pastiche of video gaming aesthetics and political discourse. The logo of the brand is a stylized B, a nod to the logo that Lance Wyman designed for the Camino Real Hotel in Polanco, Mexico City. The hotel features artwork from many notable artists such as Rufino Tamayo and Matias Goeritz. It was built in preparation for the 1968 Olympics to host the international committee.Wyman, following the guidance from the team in charge of the Olympic identity, blended tradition and modernity by drawing inspiration from Mayan motifs for the logo. Two aspects of the logo stood out to Víctor Barragán. The first one was that a foreigner had created the logo for such an emblematic building. He concluded that, “in Mexico, everything is bootlegged, stolen, changed, reappropriated. So I decided to reappropriate the logo.”60 The second was the realization of the importance of the building in architectural history. The designer explains, “Mexicans know my logo references [to] Camino Real because that hotel is so iconic. The reference hints at my interest in Mexican architecture. I like presenting it in a new way, so it looks contemporary for new generations.”61 In 2021 Barragán participated in the exhibition House Parté, organized by curator Carlayle Parker. It was meant to showcase “voyeurism, surveillance, day to day scenes, fleeting images and objects that imbue the Western cultural landscape with its American twang.”62 Barragán’s piece was a table entitled “Bolas” (Balls), in tandem with his irreverent attitude towards sexuality. The designer explained to Purple magazine that he hoped to create a design and architecture studio: “I would love to have a luxury brand that has all types of products and to create a home lifestyle brand. The brand is open to experimentation.”63 Victor Barragán has expressly addressed visual arts in his work. In his spring–summer 2017 fashion show models pushed an enormous rock up a hill and then rolled it down. He was referencing the Greek legend of Sisyphus, who was condemned by the gods to roll a boulder up a hill only to have it roll back down eternally, a metaphor to the absurdity of life. For Barragán, “[t]he idea was to blur the line between fashion and performance art. It sounds like torture, but it was beautiful seeing the clothing and the models in a repetitive action.”64 Another way in which the designer expands the possibilities of fashion is through his use of social media. In tandem with his spring 2020 fashion show,

Figure 4.14  Barragán, spring– summer 2017. MADE Fashion Week, New York. Photograph by Slaven Vlasic/Getty Images.

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Barragán shared casting videos on Instagram where models were asked to say out loud the name of the brand that they were casting for, which a few didn’t know. Humorously, the videos showcased their varied and sometimes wrong pronunciations of “Barragán.” Two other videos asked the questions, “What’s your favorite Mexican dish excluding tacos?” and “Have you visited Tulum?” These ironic videos, while intended to be fun, put on display the models’ discomfort over their limited knowledge of Mexico. Their struggles to pronounce the brand name correctly and their lack of knowledge of the foods and the location pointed at the otherness of Mexican-born Victor Barragán in New York’s fashion system. In this instance, Barragán used humor as an act of resistance. Borrowing techniques from video art, the designer underscores the contradictions and negotiations that minority designers face when working to find success in the fashion industry. Another designer from Latin America who uses the language of art to explore ideas about alterity is Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. In her work fashion is a place of social and political critique, particularly the constraints that heteronormative policies and ideologies place on the individual. Trained as an industrial engineer in Mexico, after surviving ovarian cancer, Sánchez-Kane shifted her attention to fashion and enrolled in the Polimoda fashion school in Italy. In an interview with Purple magazine, she expanded on her decision to shift professions. “At that time, I didn’t even know that I wanted to study fashion. I just knew that I loved clothes. And, to me, fashion was the closest thing to art—using clothing as a form of expression.”65 Since founding her brand in 2016, the designer has expanded her practice beyond fashion to include art and poetry and has presented her collections in performative displays in a variety of venues such as the Museo Experimental El Eco, in Mexico City. In 2019, during a talk at a trade show in Las Vegas, the designer explained that [i]t’s not just clothes that I want people to buy … this is the same process as [when] an artist does a sculpture. This is an investigation process, it is not just throwing ideas without a purpose. So, every season for me it’s Mexico showing we’re good at fashion, too, even when we’re not recognized, and so it’s that, portraying myself, my demons, into my clothes and hopefully people will get that experience through the clothing.66

Sánchez-Kane’s “Mexicanness,” as she has called it in multiple interviews, is a fundamental part of the brand’s identity. The designer’s approach to her heritage is dual. On one hand, she believes that she plays a part in how her country is understood, saying, “I believe the fashion industry needs to understand better what Latins are all about. Mexican comes in different varieties. Mexicans don’t look only one way. I’m looking to represent a wider meaning of what being Mexican is.”67 On the other hand, she also sees her experience as a resource and inspiration. While she likes to playfully reference what she sees as a kitschy side of Mexico, she uses her work to confront and resist the patriarchal, religious, and violent aspects of the country.68 For a 2018 performance at Palais de Tokyo, she wore an iron bodice with lemon squeezers on the breasts and over the vagina, turning her torso into a living sculpture. At a point in the performance, audience members were provided oranges that they could rip with their hands and squeeze over her body. In an interview the designer explained that she envisioned this event as therapy to overcome a sexual assault she had suffered in a taxi in Mexico City six months before. “I exposed my body in public and was vulnerable for the

Figure 4.15  SánchezKane, “Sanchezkaneismo” at Kurimanzutto Gallery in Mexico City, 2022. Courtesy of Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Photograph: Dorian Ulises López. Production: Momoroom. Styling: Chino Castilla. Models: Maria Raquel Cervini, Luisa Rodriguez Jimenez, Rúben Berroeta.

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last time. I was like, ‘This is the last time I’m going to cry for that.’ I did the performance, and afterward I felt light. Anything bad that happens in your life can be transformed into something good.”69 Because Sánchez-Kane sees fashion, art, and poetry as equal expressions of her creative impulses, many of the projects that emanate from her brand turn into events that take the form of performances and art installations. Her fall 2022 collection was displayed at the Kurimanzutto Gallery in Mexico City, where she is listed as one of its artists. “The piece in question consisted of a runway that was also a performance: Runway because there were models in her designs; performance because there was dance, declamation, singing, and even a certain ritual around a drone.”70 In a video she described the collection and presentation as a portfolio of her work, named “Sanchezkaneismo,” which to her is a humorously pretentious title.71 The collection came together during the Covid-19 pandemic, and the designer had time to look back and reshuffle recurring motifs from previous collections. She also drew inspiration from a variety of sources including the poetry of Federico García Lorca and the performance strategies of Alexander McQueen and Rebecca Horn. One example of her use of a recurring motif is her inclusion of calla lilies, which she has consistently used in her collections and fashion shows. Attached to a drone, calla lilies went up and down, dripping red paint in aggressive movements during the performance. While acknowledging that these flowers are strongly associated with Mexican artist Diego Rivera, Sánchez-Kane also has a personal connection to these flowers. She associates them with a fight that her parents had when she was a child, when her mother slashed a reproduction of a Rivera painting with a knife. While the fight was a repressed memory that she associated with the flowers, the designer sees the inclusion of the lilies as a resolution of the family conflict. She also points to their phallic connotation, “dripping and going [around] … like a bird.”72 As she was planning the piece, the designer was reading Camille Paglia’s Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson, and she used much imagery that came from her dreams for Sanchezkaneismo.

Blurring Disciplinary and Geographical Boundaries Looking at the porous line that separates art from fashion, it is possible to see that both disciplines are closely intertwined.What makes this association controversial to many is that “[f]ashion is a cannibalistic business,” as historian Valerie Steele wrote, further elaborating that “[i]t assimilates everything that is visually interesting—high art, graffiti, photography, even pornography.”73 For some, fashion’s commodification of art is unpalatable. However, there is plenty of proof that artists and designers are willing to cross the lines that separate their fields as they see fit. Fashion and art operate in different systems, and each has its own discourses. Fashion and art occupy different modalities of presentation and reception; they have different uses, and they are subject to different responses within both monetary and desiring economies. Thus, the differences are less in the objects of fashion and art, since both are aesthetic creations for which judgment is always subjective, but the place of exchange—social, economic, linguistic—that they occupy.74

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However, as the work of all these designers of Latin American heritage shows, both places can be inhabited at once. It is in these ambivalent spaces that designers and artists can barter social and economic capital. From the intertwined creative practice of Isabel and Ruben Toledo; to the ongoing collaborative projects between Carla Fernández and artisans and curators; to the loyal following of Maria Cornejo by visual artists; and to the professional partnership of Rick Owens with his wife, Michelé Lamy, these fashion designers have benefited from their closeness to creative individuals and have also shared their glamor and celebrity status as fashion designers with them. The fame that these brands acquire as leaders of style and culture allows them to influence their milieu. Several of them, including Sánchez-Kane,Víctor Barragán, and Owens, use the interplay of art and fashion to raise questions and engage in new dialogues and discussions about what is possible when fashion interprets society through a postcolonial lens. Their flirtations with art are political in a manner not unlike Latin American artists in the 1960s and 1970s who, through dematerialization, questioned “The structural unevenness of capitalist development and the acuteness of its contradictions in this period in the so-called global periphery [which] informed their way of responding to the question of art’s relationship to society.”75 This is not to say that such designers are esthetically disengaged. On the contrary, many of them are intensely interested in art and architectural history.Their backgrounds in these disciplines inform their fashion praxis. Geometry, minimalism, performance art, and architecture are recurring themes for designers of Latin American extraction. Writing about minimalism in fashion, Harriet Walker proposes that a harmony between the traditional and the modern and a commitment to producing functional and durable clothing can be directly linked to art movements such as the Bauhaus, De Stijl, and brutalism in architecture.76 Perhaps it is this blending of the ancient and the current that is so appealing to designers from the region. Geographic boundaries have been drawn, crossed, and erased in the Americas for millennia; why would it be different for art and fashion?

NOTES 1 Bryoni Stone, “The Interview: Rick Owens on Legacy, Responsibility, and the Eternal Search for Serenity,” Matches Fashion, March 25, 2022, https://www.matchesfashion.com/us/ stories/2022/03/designers-the-interview-rick-owens-mw-ss22. 2 Adam Geczy and Vicki Karaminas, Fashion and Art (London and New York: Berg, 2012), 5. 3 Narciso Rodriguez, quote taken from the video “Designer Narciso Rodriguez Reveals How He Finds Inspiration,” WWD, February 14, 2018, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= rLw7IoHO93Q. 4 Steff Yotka, “Go Inside Rick Owens’s Minimalist, Brutalist Home—and Closet,” Vogue, May 20, 2022, https://www.vogue. com/article/go-inside-rick-owens-minimalist-­brutalist-homeand-closet. 5 Francisco Costa, “Foreword,” in Minimalism and Fashion: Reduction in the Modern Era, Elyssa Dimant (New York: Collins Design, 2010), 9.

6 Isabel Toledo, Roots of Style:Weaving Together Life, Love, and Fashion (New York: Celebra, 2012), 7. 7 Kim Hastreiter, Ruben and Isabel Toledo: A Marriage of Art and Fashion (Tokyo: Korishna Press, 1998), 4. 8 Guy Trebay, “The Pragmatism and Poetry of Isabel Toledo,” New York Times, February 9, 2007, https://www.nytimes. com/2007/02/09/fashion/shows/09DIARY.html. 9 Patricia Mears, “Suspension,” in Isabel Toledo: Fashion from the Inside Out,Valerie Steele and Patricia Mears (New Haven:Yale University Press, 2009), 191. 10 Ibid. 11 Toledo, Roots of Style, 156. 12 Valerie Steele, Toledo/Toledo: Ruben and Isabel Toledo. A Marriage of Art and Fashion (Tokyo: Korishna Press, 1998), 5. 13 Toledo, Roots of Style, 307, 309. 14 Claudia Reyes Toledo, ed, Guadalajara: Una geografía particular (Madrid: JP Morgan /MP, 2018), 36.

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15 Chat label from the exhibition “Julia y Renata: Moda y Transformación,” November 2020–February 2021 at the Museo de Arte de Zapopan in Jalisco, México. 16 Maria José Gonzalvez, “Julia y Renata. Mexico City Fall 2022,” Vogue Runway, April 26, 2022, https://www.vogue.com/ fashion-shows/mexico-city-fall-2022/julia-y-renata. 17 Luis Campuzano, “Old School vs. New School: How Much Has Changed for Designers?” WWD, October 13, 2020, 40. 18 Nicole Phelps, “Introduction,” in Maria Cornejo: Zero 1997– 2017 (New York: Rizzoli, 2017), 9. 19 Tim Blanks, “Interview,” in Maria Cornejo: Zero 1997–2017 (New York: Rizzoli, 2017), 189. 20 “A Forever Wardrobe with Maria Cornejo,” interview with Jenny Livits, in Style & Soul podcast audio, February 4, 2022, https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/style-soul/ id1587205271?i=1000550089668. 21 Ruth LaFerla, “Loyalists Hit Closets as Zero Becomes 15,” New York Times, February 7, 2014, ST 13, https://runway. blogs.nytimes.com/2014/02/07/loyalists-hit-closets-as-zero-­ becomes-15/. 22 Wendy Donahue, “Independence Has its Privileges for Maria Cornejo,” Chicago Tribune, April 27, 2015, https://www. chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/fashion/sc-fash-0427-mariacornejo-20150427-story.html. 23 Christine Muhlke, “From Zero to Hero,” W Magazine online, March 1, 2011, https://www.wmagazine.com/story/mariacornejo. 24 LaFerla, “Loyalists Hit Closets as Zero Becomes 15.” 25 “15 + Maria Cornejo: Celebrating 15 Years with 15 Artists,” Artsy.net, February 3, 2014, https://www.artsy.net/article/ editorial-15-plus-maria-cornejo-celebrating-15-years. 26 Hans Ulrich Obrist and Pedro Reyes, eds., The Air is Blue: Insights on Art and Architecture. Luis Barragán Revisited (Milan: Mousse Publishing, 2017), 31. 27 Carla Fernández, “Bedding,” The Air is Blue: Insights on Art and Architecture. Luis Barragán Revisited, ed. Hans Ulrich Obrist and Pedro Reyes (Milan: Mousse Publishing, 2017), 54. 28 “El Futuro está hecho a mano con la diseñadora de Carla Fernández,” interview with Andrea Vaamonde Marcano, Latinoamérica de Moda, podcast audio, March 31, 2021, https:// podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/e6-t4-el-futuro-est%C3%A1hecho-a-mano-con-la/id1473892376?i=1000515173843. 29 Carla Fernández, “Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance,” Carlafernandez.com, 2017, http://assets.carlafernandez.com/ downloads/Revista-02-Carla-Fernandez_Manifesto.pdf. 30 Rodriguez, “Designer Narciso Rodriguez Reveals How He Finds Inspiration.” 31 Ibid. 32 Pamela Golbin, “The Latinx Wave,” Elle, September 2021, 261. 33 Rodriguez, “Designer Narciso Rodriguez Reveals How He Finds Inspiration.” 34 Laird Borrelli-Persson, “Rodarte, Fall 2009 Ready-to-wear,” Vogue Runway, February 16, 2009, https://www.vogue.com/ fashion-shows/fall-2009-ready-to-wear/rodarte#review.

35 Willy Kautz, Gordon Matta-Clark: Architectural Projects, Museo Tamayo Arte Contemporáneo, exhibition brochure, June 19–September 21, 2003, 2. 36 Kin Woo, “Rodarte and Rubble,” Dazeddigital, April 15, 2009, https://www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/article/2975/1/rodarteand-rubble. 37 John Kelsey, “Map for the Blind,” in Rodarte, Catherine Opie, Alec Soth (Zurich: JRP/Ringier, 2011), 13–15. 38 Ibid., 9. 39 Antonio Sergio Bessa, “Architecture as a Stage for Action: An Interview with Jessamy Fiore,” in Gordon Matta-Clark: Anarchitect (New Haven and London: The Bronx Museum of Art/Yale University Press, 2017), 135. 40 Suzy Menkes, “Francisco Costa: A Minimalist Approach,” New York Times, November 10, 2011, https://www.nytimes. com/2011/11/11/fashion/11iht-rcosta11.html. 41 Suzy Menkes, “Calvin Klein’s Icy Origami: Zac Posen with Shine,” New York Times, September 12, 2008, https://www. nytimes.com/2008/09/12/style/12iht-rcalvin.1.16095849.html. 42 Elyssa Dimant, Minimalism and Fashion: Reduction in the Modern Era (New York: Collins Design, 2010), 180. 43 Caroline Roux, “Rick Owens: ‘I love art nouveau. It’s super sexy and ominous,’” The Guardian, September 29, 2019, https:// www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/sep/26/rick-­owensbrutalist-furniture. 44 “Donald Judd,” Museum of Modern Art, https://www.moma.org/ artists/2948. 45 Jan Kedves, Talking Fashion: From Nick Knight to Raf Simons in Their Own Words (Munich, London, New York: Prestel, 2013), 24. 46 Terry Jones, “Terry Jones interviews Rick Owens and Michèle Lamy, Paris Fashion Week 2012,” in Rick Owens (Cologne: Taschen, 2013), 21. 47 Derek Blasberg, “Fashion and Art: Rick Owens,” Gagosian.com, spring 2022, https://gagosian.com/quarterly/2022/04/12/ interview-fashion-and-art-rick-owens/. 48 Rick Owens, quote taken from the video “Rick Owens: Performance at the Pompidou!,” October 21, 2019, https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=J9FGl_AcMC8. 49 “Rick Owens. Amis Du Centre Pompidou. 17 October 2019,” RickOwens.eu, https://www.rickowens.eu/en/US/exhibitions/ pompidou. 50 “Why Fashion Shows Aren’t Going Away,” interview with Tim Blanks, in The Business of Fashion podcast audio, June 26, 2020, https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-business-of-fashion-podcast/id1225204588?i=1000479767316. 51 Luke Leitch, “Rick Owens. Spring 2020 Menswear,” Vogue Runway, June 20, 2019, https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/spring-2020-menswear/rick-owens. 52 Fernández, “Manifiesto of Fashion as Resistance.” 53 “Why Fashion Shows Aren’t Going Away,” interview with Tim Blanks, in The Business of Fashion podcast audio, June 26, 2020, https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-business-of-fashion-podcast/id1225204588?i=1000479767316.

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54 Emma Elizabeth Davidson, “Rick Owens Responds to Trump’s Wall by Exploring his Mexicanness for SS20,” Dazeddigital, June 20, 2019, https://www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/ article/44948/1/rick-owens-trump-wall-mexico-paris-fashionweek-tecuatl-ss20-paris-fashion-week. 55 Noreen Flanagan, “The Insider’s Guide to Mexico City,” Fashion magazine, August 17, 2017, https://fashionmagazine.com/flare/ celebrity/insiders-guide-mexico-city/. 56 Interview with the author, February 25, 2022. 57 Ibid., 2022. 58 Dimant, Minimalism and Fashion, 178. 59 Michael Bullock, “Victor Barragán,” in MichaelBullock.nyc, 2021, https://michaelbullock.nyc/volumes/journalism/victor-­ barragan. 60 Aleph Molinari, “Víctor Barragán,” in Purple:The Mexico Issue 36 (2021–22): 467. 61 Bullock, “Victor Barragán.” 62 “House Parté in the Desert, Exhibition with over 40 Eclectic Artists,” Materia, August 26, 2021,https://materia.press/houseparte-in-the-desert-exhibition-with-over-40-eclectic-artists/. 63 Molinari, “Víctor Barragán,” 470. 64 Ibid. 65 Olivier Zahm and Aleph Molinari, “Bárbara Sánchez-Kane,” in Purple:The Mexico Issue 36 (Fall/Winter 2021–22): 324. 66 Bárbara Sánchez-Kane, quote taken from video of SánchezKane participating in a panel titled “Gender Drop: Marketing

67

68

69 70

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your brand to consumers that are breaking gender norms” at the Magic One Trade Show, August 13, 2019, https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=LNzvdYyw5Ik. Jonathan Velardi, “Interview Bárbara Sánchez-Kane: ¡Sanchez-Kaneismo!,” Tunica Magazine 7, https://tunicastudio. com/barbara-sanchez-kane-sanchez-kaneismo/. Christian Allaire, “Sánchez-Kane is the Genderless Brand Fostering a Community in Mexico City,” Vogue, October 1, 2020, https://www.vogue.com/article/sanchez-kane-­mexicanfashion-label-fostering-community. Zahm and Molinari, “Bárbara Sánchez-Kane.” Amira Saim, “Bárbara Sánchez-Kane Mexico City Fall 2022,” Vogue Runway, April 11, 2022, https://www.vogue.com/ fashion-shows/mexico-city-fall-2022/barbara-sanchez-kane. Bárbara Sánchez-Kane, quote taken from the video “Sánchezkaneismo” the new collection by Bárbara Sánchez-Kane, April 21, 2022, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4B6x9peOjY. Interview with the author, February 25, 2022. Valerie Steele, “Fashion,” in Fashion and Art, ed. Adam Geczy and Vicki Karaminas (London and New York: Berg, 2012), 25. Adam Geczy and Vicki Karaminas, Fashion and Art (London and New York: Berg, 2012), 4. Karen Benezra, Dematerialization: Art and Design in Latin America (Oakland: University of California Press, 2020), 24. Harriet Walker, Less is More: Minimalism in Fashion (London/ New York: Marrell, 2011), 15.

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C A S E S T U DY: R I C K OW E N S T E C UAT L E N S E M B L E

Tanya Meléndez-Escalante Rick Owens has said that “[a]dorning oneself and communicating through the way you look is an ancient ritual.”1 This perspective comes to the fore in his approach to this outfit, look 35 of his spring–summer 2020 Tecuatl collection, which was recently acquired by The Museum at FIT. In this collection the designer paid homage to his Mexican heritage, the first time that he had explored his Latin American roots through fashion. The political environment during the Trump presidency (2016–2020), the talk of building a wall separating Mexico and the United States, and “the potential of being cut off from family still living in Mexico” touched a personal nerve in the designer.2 Beyond this overtly political impetus, this collection drew heavily on art as the designer’s medium of preference to engage with his heritage. Owens declared how in these clothes he channeled “the hot colours that Luis Barragán used, and Aztec architecture, and the photographs that Josef and Anni Albers took there in the 1930s, which I saw at the Guggenheim in Venice last year.”3 Through its artistic references this elaborate outfit combines the sense of ritual from ancient traditions with modernity. The long marigold dress, named Sandra, is made of a knitted elastic fabric. Form-fitting, it has an asymmetrical neckline and cap sleeves. The skirt is tubular with a side slit opening on the left thigh. The dress presents an ornamental tubular attachment at the level of the right hip. It has an opening mid-back above the waistline. The color of this dress is informed by the golden colors in the emotional architecture of Luis Barragán. This garment was worn as a skirt during the runway at Palais de Tokyo, Paris. The styling for the show was done by Owens’s long-time collaborator, Panos Yiapanis. Owens considers Yiapanis a fundamental partner in his fashion shows, explaining, “I pretty much have all the looks done by the time he gets there. But after that then we add a few more here, and he kind of shifts things around.”4 Together with

Yiapanis not only did Owens reshuffle how his garments would be presented, but he also added abstracted head pieces that referenced reliefs at ancient Mexican sites.5 The top, named by some retailers the Poblana jacket or coat, is made of a subdued beige cotton poplin. It is completely lined with the same fabric and has a wrapped V-neck that opens on the front with two snap closures. The jacket has two front peplums that sit higher by the center above the navel and descend to approximately 2 inches below the waist. The entirety of the top is made with pleated fabric, arranged in panels. The back and front central panels display the pleating vertically, while the side panels have horizontal pleating in the ribcage area. The butterfly sleeves and peplums are sewn in a manner that makes the pleats fall vertically there as well. The name of the jacket is a reference to the Mexican state of Puebla, where Owens’s mother was born. Of Indigenous Mixtec heritage, she emigrated to the United States as an adult. The designer has spoken of learning English along with his mother when she took him to school as a child.6 The music played during the runway show in the Palais de Tokyo was a mix by techno musician Gage. The designer asked him to use vocals by the Mexican movie star, María Félix, “Repeating the phrase ‘Corazon, tú dirás lo que hacemos’ … My heart, you decide what we do.” He went on to describe Félix as “[t]he Dietrich of Mexican cinema [who] usually played a strong and defiant woman in a male dominated society.”7 This music is a continuation of his focus on Mexican women and power imbalances that emerge from nationality or gender. The designer wanted to portray the women of this collection as “Stoic Bauhaus Aztec priestesses.”8 Fashion here is the modern ritual where women can mine tradition to remain strong in the face of adversity.

Figure 4A.1 (left)  Rick Owens, spring–summer 2020 Tecuatl collection, Look 35. Photograph by Peter White/Getty Images. Figure 4A.2 (overleaf)  Rick Owens, Sandra dress, fall 2020, France. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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NOTES 1 “Why Fashion Shows Aren’t Going Away,” interview with Tim Blanks in The Business of Fashion podcast audio, June 26, 2020, https://podcasts.apple. com/us/podcast/the-business-of-fashion-podcast/ id1225204588?i=1000479767316. 2 Beth Moore, “Rick Owens RTW Spring 2020,” WWD, September 26, 2019, https://wwd.com/runway/springready-to-wear-2020/paris/rick-owens/review/. 3 Caroline Roux, “Rick Owens: ‘I love art nouveau. It’s super sexy and ominous,’” The Guardian, September 29, 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/ sep/26/rick-owens-brutalist-furniture. 4 Ben Rardon, “Rick Owens by Ben Rardon,” i-D, The Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes Issue, no. 307, summer 2010 in Rick Owens, Designer Monographs Curated by Terry Jones (Cologne: Taschen, 2013), 41. 5 Emma Elizabeth Davidson, “‘Bauhaus Aztec priestesses’ stormed Rick Owens’ bubble-filled SS20

runway,” Dazed Digital, September 26, 2019, https:// www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/article/46220/1/ rick-owens-ss20-paris-fashion-week-mexico-tecuatlbauhaus-anni-josef-albers. 6 Valérie Duponchelle, “Le Centre Pompidou offre une carte blanche à Rick Owens,” Le Figaro, “Style,” October 17, 2019, https://www.lefigaro.fr/industrie-mode/ le-centre-pompidou-offre-une-carte-blanche-a-rickowens-20191017. 7 “RICK OWENS SS20 - GAGE x SCRATCHA DVA x MARIA FELIX,” SoundCloud, https://soundcloud.com/ gage/rick-owens-ss20-womens-gage-x-scratcha-dva-xmaria-felix. 8 Jack Moss, “Beautiful Portraits from Backstage at Rick Owens,” AnOther, September 27, 2019, https:// www.anothermag.com/fashion-beauty/11968/ beautiful-portraits-of-rick-owens-models-backstage-athis-show.

Figure 4A.3 (previous page)  Rick Owens, Tecuatl ensemble, fall 2020, France. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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Charting Multiple Paths to Sustainability in Latin American and Latinx Fashion Melissa Marra-Alvarez

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nterspersed among pictures of garments on its Instagram account, the Peruvian fashion label Escvdo (@escvdo) features photographs of Peru’s breathtaking landscapes, natural resources, cultural traditions, and native artisans. These visuals promote to the brand’s 46,700 followers1 its values: socially responsible practices, respect for the environment, and an interconnectedness among land, craft, and national identity. They establish Escvdo as a brand committed to a holistic view of sustainable production, one with clear social, cultural, economic, and environmental implications. Photographs of collaborating artisans present these individuals as co-authors of the brand’s designs, while the images of Peruvian landscapes highlight the land’s instrumental value as a fount of natural resources. This approach to fashion production has been increasingly adopted by designers and fashion labels throughout Latin America in an attempt to reimagine the relationship between fashion, heritage, and sustainability. Latin America is among the most species-rich regions on the planet with Amazonia accounting for 10 percent of the world’s biodiversity. Preserving its rainforests is also key

Figure 5.1  Escvdo, TSUMA dress, fall–winter 2020. Photograph by Alexander Neumann.

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to meeting global climate goals, and these now lie on a dangerous precipice, nearing the point from which recovery from disturbances like extreme weather events becomes impossible.2 For the peoples of the Americas, the climate crisis can impact daily life directly. In Latin America uncontrolled fires burn through the Amazon; lakes evaporate in Bolivia; and droughts parch areas of Brazil. In the United States climate change has had effects such as historic drought in California, rising sea levels in Florida, and extreme heat waves in Texas. Against this backdrop, fashion weeks throughout Latin America including those in the Caribbean evidence a growing industry fueled by a desire for international recognition. The fashion industry, however, has contributed to environmental harm in its own right, and contemporary discourses have elucidated its impact on the planet since the Industrial Revolution. As a result, a renewed cultural consciousness has prompted a reexamination of the ethics, values, and production methods associated with the fashion industry. In turn, a new wave of Latin American and Latinx designers have begun to assess what sustainability means in the twenty-first century, while others continue to embrace and refine practices established decades before, shaping their local and global fashion identities. Among Latin American and Latinx designers there is a growing impetus to go beyond creating a beautiful piece of clothing, which reflects an additional desire to reexamine national histories by sharing regional customs and stories via collaborations that employ a collective approach to design. Such practices can have an enduring positive social and economic impact on Indigenous communities, in some instances highlighting a region’s natural resources. Various strategies favor slow production methods that value quality over quantity, and prioritize fair-trade practices, as well as environmental conservation and regeneration. Juan de La Paz (Bolivia) and Carla Fernández (Mexico), two brands collaborating with Indigenous artisans, celebrate the value systems behind traditional crafts and notions of reciprocity specifically, both among people and in their interactions with nature. While they embrace sustainability in all its forms (social, economic, cultural, and environmental), their efforts in social and economic sustainability have earned them especial recognition. Cognizant of the waste produced by the industry, other fashion labels such as the Munay Sisters (Chile) and Nous Étudions (Argentina) are producing fewer collections with more timeless pieces constructed from recycled materials or novel fabrics that merge ancestral techniques with scientific innovations. Additionally, fashion designers of Latin American descent in the US such as Gabriela Hearst (Uruguay) and Maria Cornejo (Chile) have received acclaim for setting benchmarks in sustainable practices to which others in the industry aspire. In 2021 Vogue Mexico reported that within Latin America fashion labels that promote ethical and sustainable practices are flourishing, noting that “[t]he lack of resources has … been a mixed blessing, fostering their capacity for finding novel means to think about and create fashion via a language of their own.”3 By developing ethical business practices and empowering local economies, many of the designers and organizations examined in this chapter are working to mitigate fashion industry challenges such as over-production and over-consumption, waste, and attendant environmental degradation. The interaction with native artisans and local economies has helped to empower Indigenous communities, whose agency has historically been undermined in decisions regarding natural resources, land management, forced resettlement, and appropriation

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Figure 5.2  Images highlighting the brand’s values featured on Escvdo’s Instagram account (@escvdo) and other media outlets. Photographs courtesy of Escvdo.

of heritage crafts. It should be noted that the Indigenous communities and artisans that partner with contemporary designers often go unnamed in the fashion press. Still these partnerships have yielded important approaches to design, among them the integration of traditional cultural knowledge into design and production processes, which in turn establishes a truly Latin American approach to sustainability in fashion.

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In this chapter, sustainability is interpreted in accordance with the definition of sustainable development first articulated in the conclusions drawn by the United Nations in its Report of the World Commission on Environment and Development: Our Common Future (1987), more commonly known as the Brundtland Report. There, sustainable development (i.e., sustainability) is defined as “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.”4 Further, this chapter subscribes to the notion of sustainability in fashion presented by design scholars Sandy Black and Regina Root, who have asserted that “the discourse of fashion has evolved to adopt the terminology of sustainability, encompassing the three pillars of sustainable thinking—ecology, economics, and humanity.”5 Understood as practices that protect people and the planet, these pillars of sustainability show how intimately tied issues of social justice are to environmental protection. This chapter examines strategies for sustainability in the fashion industry and how these manifest in the work of Latin American and Latinx designers. It also considers how some companies and organizations are working towards establishing Latin America as a bastion of sustainable fashion via the implementation of environmentally sound manufacturing methods and material development; the curtailment of industrial (textile) waste; and, importantly, the empowerment of local communities and preservation of cultural heritage. The designers, brands, and organizations discussed here are organized by the sustainable design approach most prominent in their work. However, it should be noted that their production methods adhere to many of the conditions inherent to sustainable production, which include environmental, social, and economic impact. While these approaches are not mutually exclusive, fashion brands tend to become more publicly associated with one approach over another. Overall, this chapter aims to discern the cultural impulses motivating designers of Latin American heritage. How does a designer’s location influence approaches to sustainability? How are designers drawing upon cultural and national heritage to embrace the “pillars of sustainable thinking” and positioning themselves as ambassadors for a sustainable future? Discussing the study of sustainable fashion in a globalized world, Black and Root emphasize how the impact, innovations, and design solutions of this growing field are at times “scholarship in action.”6 They have elaborated: Historically the business of fashion has not been the province of fashion theory, which particularly addresses cultural practice and meaning associated with dressing the body. However, issues underlying sustainability serve as a unifying agenda which interdisciplinary research—interfacing academia and industry, theory and practice—now recognize and learn from other’s approaches and methods.7

In other words, while studies relating to sustainable fashion tend to be practice or industry based, there is much that can be gained from an interdisciplinary approach that takes into account “cultural practice and meaning.” Over the past two decades critical examination of the global fashion industry—supply chains, production methods, and consumption levels—has stimulated dialogues within academia and popular culture focusing on the ramifications of fast fashion and the future of the industry. This has led to an emphasis on slow-fashion production and socially aware approaches to design, which prioritize locally sourced materials, transparent supply chains, and distributed economies.8 In turn, designers have begun exploring local, culturally based production and the use and re-use

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of local resources.9 Contemporaneously, efforts to decenter and decolonize the study of fashion have brought to the fore legacies of colonialism, post-colonialism, and capitalism within global fashion and their influence over economic realities, notions of modern vs. traditional, and labor exploitation. Fashion scholar Margaret Maynard has highlighted the need for a transnational dialogue around sustainability especially within fashion studies. Maynard has argued that decentering conventional Eurocentric perspectives allows a broader understanding of sustainability and the differing imperatives the term holds for cultures around the globe.10 This will inform scholars and designers alike as they adopt views of sustainability that go beyond considerations of environmental damage, allowing a holistic understanding of the concept.11

Connecting with Local Traditions In Latin America a growing commitment to sustainable fashion is evident in efforts to promote the use of organic, responsibly produced, raw materials such as cotton and alpaca wool. That commitment is also a motivating factor behind collaborative relationships between designers and Indigenous communities, who have a more balanced relationship with nature evident in textile traditions often dating to the pre-Columbian era. This reconnection with textile traditions coincides with Indigenous rights movements and signals a potential shift in the colonialist view of Indigenous cultures as antiquated remnants of a bygone era.12 For many Indigenous communities an intrinsic connection to and concordance with nature influences traditions, philosophies, and religious beliefs. Additionally, the need to protect natural resources continues to inform daily life because there is an awareness that resources can be irrevocably exhausted to the detriment of future generations. Explicit terms such as sustainable development are elusive concepts to Indigenous communities whose daily routines have traditionally been sustainable. In mountainous regions of South America, for example, Indigenous communities have long-­ established systems to conserve soil and water and to reduce erosion. Pastoral communities manage livestock grazing and crop cultivation in ways that preserve grassland biodiversity. Among peoples of the Amazon, the health of the rainforest is prioritized, as it is a source of food, shelter, and natural medicines. According to Root, integrating local forms of traditional knowledge into modern design processes and modes of consumption is integral to expanding the purview of sustainable fashion history and analyzing pioneering work in cultures around the globe. Fashion is the manifestation of internal, cultural, and sociopolitical developments together with external influences—all of these factors must be taken into consideration when investigating sustainable practices in any region around the globe.13 Designer collections that honor the natural world and reinterpret ancient artisanal crafts suggest a form of resistance not only to conventional industry practices but also to the history of colonialism and imperialism, which has devalued and threatened Indigenous communities, their land, and their cultural practices. In Chapter 3 Laura Beltrán-Rubio discusses the impact of colonialism on Indigenous communities and the social dynamics that it has promoted, further demonstrating the extent to which politics, sustainability, and Indigenous heritage are linked. Current approaches to fashion by Latin American and Latinx designers can also be viewed as an act of protest against government policies that have systematically destroyed entire ecosystems through unregulated resource extraction. Since

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Figure 5.3  Artisan sisters of Tito Yupanqui in Lake Titicaca handcleaning and combing alpaca hair for dyeing with coca leaves. March 2022. Photograph courtesy of Juan Carlos Pereira Paz.

assuming control of the country in 2019, the administration of Jair Bolsonaro, for example, presided over unprecedented levels of deforestation and wildfire in Brazil’s Amazon region. Natural resource extraction and exportation as the foundation for a national economy is rooted in Latin America’s colonial heritage. Throughout the nineteenth and much of the twentieth century, the exploitation of key national resources was conducted by internal government elites and foreign investors, who subordinated environmental concerns to maximize profit and failed to share revenue with other sectors of society.14 The ethos behind many sustainability-minded fashion labels in Latin America is typified by brands such as Escvdo, whose tagline reads, “Devoted to Design, Committed to Heritage.” Sisters Giuliana and Chiara Macchiavello co-founded Escvdo in 2013 after traveling throughout Peru with their mother, interacting with female artisans and procuring a collection of garments and textiles which they brought to Lima. The brand implements an ethical, socially conscious approach to fashion, which celebrates the region’s cultural heritage and promotes the talents of its peoples. Escvdo honors its commitment to the empowerment of native communities through a mutually beneficial interchange with local artisans (most of whom are women) and by helping to establish viable careers in craftsmanship that subsequent generations may pursue as sustainable sources of income. The majority of the female artisans employed by Escvdo prefer to work from home. This affords them the flexibility to multitask; managing households while assuming roles in knitting or weaving cooperatives.15 Escvdo also partners with the non-governmental organization (NGO) Knitting Hope, to support the women of

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remote communities, such as those in Huascarán and Áncash, by affording them professional training in accounting, general management, and computer skills.16 The brand’s commitment to promoting Peruvian artisanal techniques includes the sourcing of high-quality raw materials such as wool from the Peruvian Andes and Pima cotton from the coasts of Pisco, both responsibly cultivated in accordance with fair-trade standards.17 Its business practices have also aided in the preservation of traditional shearing and hand-spinning techniques as well as in the promotion of twenty-two natural fiber tones found in heritage breeds of Peruvian alpaca.18 Escvdo has established a presence on luxury e-commerce sites including Farfetch and Matches Fashion, which afford the brand global visibility without compromising limited production runs that minimize textile waste. One of Mexico’s most esteemed designers, Carla Fernández, has been promoting systems of fashion production that counter Western industrial ones for over two decades. Her eponymous label has achieved B-Corp certification, which requires meeting rigorous standards to mitigate environmental impact. Employing an anthropological approach to design, Fernández operates a mobile laboratory, Taller Flora, which travels throughout Mexico visiting with artisan communities—women’s cooperatives that produce handmade textiles are of particular interest—offering workshops and playing an active role in documenting and preserving Mexico’s textile history.19 “Our intention was to use these workshops to create an innovative and sustainable option that would combine artisanal processes with contemporary design,” Fernández explains. “We also proposed that the learning experience be reciprocal, so that artisans and designers could exchange ideas, develop new products, and hold sessions where we could seek solutions to meet needs of each cooperative.”20 Most of the time, artisan communities seek out collaborations with Taller Flora through government agencies and nonprofit organizations which legitimize the formal nature of the partnerships. Government agencies also provide Taller Flora with breakdowns of the communities they visit prepared by sociologists and anthropologists. “This helps us get to know the group and community better so that we are able to identify the problems they face and find out why their handicrafts are not selling,” says Fernández.21 Fernádez’s work challenges the idea that the techniques nurtured by artisan communities for centuries are static. She demonstrates instead how they can be dynamic through the synergy of living traditions and contemporary design. As Fernádez explains, “We’ve been studying the DNA of Indigenous garments and ancient techniques for a long time. We apply methods that are familiar to artisans, many of which are the same that have been used from pre-hispanic times, to create new designs.”22 Describing the work of Carla Fernández, curator Julieta González writes, The practice of sustainable design is essential for Fernández, not only through recognition of the inherent sustainability of vernacular forms of production, but also through an active reformation of industrial methods and the productive relationships of the fashion industry, in order to create networks of collaboration and exchange that promote the survival of these forms among communities whose means of subsistence are under constant threat due to the hegemony of mass-produced objects.23

Fernández’s work with Indigenous communities throughout Mexico have yielded specialized garments for her own fashion label as well as unique products that collaborating

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communities can sell themselves. “Mexico has a rich, living culture, and we want to collaborate openly with that culture,” Fernández says.24 Sustainable production methods that utilize plants, animals, and other resources responsibly (e.g., natural dyeing processes) form part of the anthropological approach Fernández employs in her fashion practice. An in-house Fashion Manifesto delineates the brand’s core beliefs which include the notion that “Fashion is not ephemeral; Neither is our planet.”25 This sentiment underscores a mutualistic, environmentally sound relationship with Indigenous communities. While immersed in the ancestral techniques of her collaborators, Fernández embraces their attitudes toward nature. She seeks to empower these communities by equipping their artisans with “the tools of survival” to confront capitalist modes of production.26 Section 5 of the manifesto, titled “The Origin of the Textile is the Earth,” specifically reaffirms the interconnections between Indigenous textile traditions and nature: The Earth manifests its generosity in our clothes. Their colors and textures narrate stories: The wool of San Juan Chamula is submerged in mud for days so that it never loses its intense and brilliant black. The tricolor skirts of southern Oaxaca feature the blue of the sky, obtained from indigo; the red of the stripes, representing fertility, made by macerating the cochineal insect; and the purple symbolizing power and death, drawn from the caracol púrpura, a coastal sea snail.27

Fernández recalls realizing at the onset of working with Mexico’s Indigenous groups that teaching Western dressmaking techniques would prove impossible.28 There were language barriers and cultural obstacles such as differences in measuring units (fingers and forearms were used in place of metric units). Instead, Fernández learned the techniques that the communities had already mastered. “Traditional garments often need merely a nudge, to be transposed into the world of fashion,” Fernández notes.29 Additionally, methods such as folding instead of cutting, or adapting the versatility of Indigenous clothing, where a skirt can become a dress, poncho, or blanket, are explored in garments such as the Chamula coat and skirt, made in collaboration with Tzotzil artisans from San Juan Chamula, Chiapas. Fernandez’s fashion label challenges preconceived notions that artisans inherently oppose modernity, affirming instead that Indigenous practices are “at once old and new, modern and amodern.”30 This, in turn, aligns with contemporary examinations of Indigenous cultures and sustainable development which suggest that “Indigenous cultural practice and understandings can inform, and be informed by, new global ideas of development that are respectful of cultural differences and ecological limits.”31 In Bolivia, the genderless brand Juan de La Paz centers around an appreciation of ancestral knowledge and a respect for nature. Founded in 2009 by Juan Carlos Pereira Paz and

Figure 5.4 (right)  Carla Fernández, Chamula coat and skirt, made in collaboration with artisans from San Juan Chamula, Chiapas, Mexico. Photograph by Ramiro Chaves, courtesy of Carla Fernández. Figure 5.5 (overleaf  )  Juan de La Paz, Chola Assymetrical dress and skirt with macramé and silk fringe. Photographed by Eddie Wrey for British Vogue, December 2021. Photograph © Eddie Wrey.

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Figure 5.6  Designer Juan Pereira Paz from Juan de La Paz dyeing with coca leaves with Aymara artisan Yola Mamani, President of Arte Warmi Association in Tito Yupanqui Community, Lake Titicaca, March 2022. Photograph courtesy of Juan Carlos Pereira Paz.

Andrés Jordan, the label has partnered with over thirty artisan communities throughout Bolivia and Peru, including the Kallawaya in Charazani, the Kurmi in Lake Titicaca, and the Huari people in Oruro. Their partnerships adhere to a socially and economically sustainable strategy increasingly followed by designers throughout the region. When it comes to contemporary techniques such as macramé or crochet, garments are often commissioned and fair-trade practices are employed. However, the pair have also found ways of showcasing artisan craftsmanship by recycling existing items such as blankets and shawls, and giving them a new life in contemporary fashion. For example, the Chola Asymmetrical dress shown in Figure 5.5 was constructed from pre-existing Chola paceña blankets that are typically discarded after their use in folk-dance performances such as the Morenada. The pair purchase cast-off shawls, and work with artisans, such as Mrs. Julia Mayta de Apaña, to restore the macramé fringe.32 However, they also employ collaborative design approaches whereby garments are co-designed with artisan communities. The designers point out that it is never their intention to intervene with or alter

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artisan practices in any way. Rather, collaborations are an opportunity to showcase techniques and aesthetics that have been practiced for centuries, to “preserve their wisdom in pieces that we co-design.”33 Collaborations have shown Pereira and Jordan how invaluable the technical-­ancestral knowledge of Indigenous communities can be to establishing sustainable practices. Regarding the natural world, Pereira notes, “Andean communities have lived in harmony with their environment since time immemorial, under a principle called ‘mutual parenting.’ Everything that the earth produces must reach that harmony with the Pachamama.”34 Pachamama, or Mother Earth, is an ever-present deity based on a belief system that venerates fertility, harmony, and reciprocity with the earth. In 2022, the pair partnered with Arte Warmi, a social project that brings together more than 100 artisan women from across the Andean region of Acamani and the shores of Lake Titicaca, in La Paz. The project yielded the Kallawaya cape, a six-month collaborative endeavor between members of the Kallawaya nation, each responsible for different aspects of its design and creation. For example, the black body of the cape was woven by artisan Roberta Quispe Mamani using undyed alpaca wool collected over a three-month period in Curva; while the border was woven by Cristina Paye Mamani, in the community of Chari. The border features symbols that represent the Inti sun, the condor, and the river, which hold great meaning for the Chari community.35 Collaborative processes typically begin with extended visits to community villages to learn about the processes and philosophies behind their work. “It is a privilege to get to know their work and soak up their reality and world view,” Pereira explained.36 Decisions regarding color, pattern, and motif are made together as a group. Pereira and Jordan are committed to placing value on Andean textile knowledge and, in turn, challenging convention by cultivating a sense of luxury rooted in the sustainable practices of ancestral methods. Concern over the inequalities faced by Indigenous peoples also motivates Pereira and Jordan. Many communities in Bolivia face chronic poverty and lack of access to healthcare and education. Similar to Fernández, the pair have worked with more than twelve artisan groups to produce products including housewares and garments that they themselves can sell.37 They are also involved in tourism projects that foster positive visibility for partnering communities. These projects help to facilitate technical training sessions and social assistance for communities with levels of high poverty near Lake Titicaca in Peru and Bolivia. According to Aymara artisan Yola Mamani,38 the benefits of working with Juan de La Paz have been twofold. First, it helps to strengthen ties to ancestral methods of dyeing and weaving, and second, it provides much needed financial support.Yola Mamani noted, With brother Juan, we met on Tito Yupanqui community in Titikaka Lake and he congratulated us for everything we have done. Since then we have woven their designs, cushions, footboards and others … For example with the dyes, he challenged us to make things and weave like our ancestors. I think that dyeing with plants we did, like our grandmothers did, is good. That is good for me and my colleagues, so we can have more work and we need more work.39

Pereira and Jordan have gained special recognition for their participation in education initiatives and projects that support Indigenous communities and local economies. Speaking about collaborations with Juan de La Paz, artisan Cristina Paye Mamani, who serves as administrator of the Arte Warmi project, said: “Seeing the pieces made in different places

Figure 5.7  MANTO, Kalpa coat, made from native organic wool sheared, spun, and woven by hand in Pueblo San Isidro, with buttons made from recycled rubber. Courtesy of MANTO. www.manto. com.ar.

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with Juan makes me very happy and makes me want to knit more. When I see what we have made for Juan de La Paz in our communities is being seen everywhere, that excites me a lot.”40 The Argentinian brand Manto, founded by Clara de la Torre and Diana Dai Chee Chaug, combines the artisanal weaving traditions of native peoples of northern Argentina with the tailoring trade of Buenos Aires. The name, Manto, derives from the Quechua word anaqmanta, meaning “from heaven” or “from above.” In 1996 the duo traveled to the village of San Isidro deep within the Andean highlands, encountering a group of weavers from the Andean Coya community, whose connection to the land through their craft was inspiring. Coya families raise Creole sheep, whose wool is stretched with spinning wheels hydraulically powered by local water courses and woven into textiles using Creole looms unique to the village of San Isidro in the Salta province. Founding Manto four years later, the pair decided to merge cultural “excellences,” creating garments that combine Andean traditions, Western tailoring, and the skills of Buenos Aires goldsmiths who craft the brand’s buttons and closures from mined metals, recycled rubber, and rhea shells. According to de la Torre, “Our products are made by hand with pure natural fibers, sheep, llama, guanaco and linen,”41 affirming the brand’s commitment to using biodegradable materials.42 Manto values sustainability by partnering with Indigenous communities, optimizing natural resources, and respecting nature’s cycles.43 At the time of writing, Manto was in the process of becoming certified by the World Fair Trade Organization.44 As Dai Chee Chaug explains on the Manto website, “This is the richness of a project that speaks to the value of, and our commitment to, our land.”45

Raw Materials and Innovation Throughout the world, Latin America’s cotton and camelid hair are recognized for their high quality. As sustainability is prioritized globally, organizations committed to the responsible production of raw materials such as organic Pima cotton and alpaca wool have garnered renewed attention in Latin America. Methods used to cultivate organic cotton prevent erosion, maintain fertile soils, and avoid introducing toxic chemicals into the environment.46 Adhering to strict guidelines, consistent with a sustainable approach these methods of farming prioritize both environmental health (i.e., biodiversity, natural cycles) and the welfare of farmers over mass production. In the 1990s Peru was among the first Latin American countries to produce organic cotton.47 Although the region’s overall production of this cotton has lagged in recent years, there is potential for industry growth given the global interest in sustainable products and regional designers’ demand for organic cotton. Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Nicaragua, Paraguay, and Mexico have all joined Peru in availing themselves of this opportunity.48 In 2019 Brazil became the world’s largest supplier of responsible cotton.49 The Brazilian Association of Cotton Producers established initiatives such as Responsible Brazilian Cotton, which certifies farms that are committed to a strict protocol of good agricultural, environmental, social, and economic practices which fosters sustainable social and environmental practices within its industry; regulates production of naturally dyed, locally grown organic cotton; and promotes Brazil as a global leader in responsible cotton production.50 Farmers participate in the program voluntarily but are required to meet strict compliance regimes.51 +Algodón is a South-South initiative52 launched in 2013 by the Brazilian

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Government, the Brazilian Cooperation Agency, and the Organization of the United Nations for Food and Agriculture (FAO) with the collaboration of the national governments of Argentina, Bolivia, Ecuador, Colombia, Haiti, Paraguay, and Peru.53 It organizes a regional network of over seventy public and private institutions to facilitate the exchange of knowledge and experience. It has helped to establish sustainable and inclusive production systems that provide economic opportunities to local farmers (including women) in cotton cultivation,54 connecting them to sustainable markets.55 The organization seeks to connect designers and companies with organic producers. Under the auspices of +Algodón, Colombia saw its first harvest of organic cotton in 2020. Grown in the Sierra la Nevada de Santa Marta, this inaugural crop was sold to the Colombian fashion brand Punto Blanco for the production of a line of   T-shirts. Punto Blanco is a large-scale fashion company with wide distribution in Colombia and Latin America. Its participation in this initiative has had a large influence on plans for a sustainable future by larger companies in the Colombian fashion industry. As Alan Bojanic, a FAO representative in Colombia, has affirmed, “This is a very important step for the acceptance of organic cotton as a viable national product, many years have been needed to restore the production of this ancient fiber, and today we hopefully see the continuity in the good practices already adopted by the inhabitants of the Sierra Nevada of Santa Marta.”56 As the production of organic cotton becomes widespread, particularly within Brazil and Colombia, both countries with established fashion industries, others are gaining reputations for their top-quality alpaca and merino wool fibers and transparent supply chains (e.g., Uruguay, Bolivia, and Peru). Wool has always been a favored material for sustainable fashion as it is inherently biodegradable, renewable, and takes far less water to produce than other natural fibers. Moreover, 50 percent of the weight of clean wool is pure biogenic carbon. Because the carbon in wool is derived from plant carbons (pasture) it continues to be sequestered from the atmosphere.57 Independent designers of the region have found economic and ecological incentives in the use of high-quality, locally produced wools. In Peru the alpaca industry has exploded as a result, and designers travel there to get as close as they can to the source. “[In Uruguay t]here is respect for rural culture and a favorable climate for the production of top-quality raw materials, all of which increase craftsmanship and industrial activity,” designer and Latin American slow-fashion pioneer, Ana Livni, has noted.58 Since launching her eponymous brand in 2015, Uruguayan-born US fashion designer Gabriela Hearst has been a tireless champion for sustainable practices and a vocal supporter of conservation initiatives. Hearst was raised on a 17,000-acre sheep and cattle ranch in the Paysandu region of Uruguay. “It’s a place where I bring my family to center them, and also so they can understand, as I did growing up, where things come from and how we belong to nature and nature does not belong to us,” the designer has said.59 Wool farming has been in Hearst’s family for six generations, but, after inheriting the farm, the designer forwent wholesaling, using the wool to produce her label’s suiting instead.60 She did this specifically to promote sustainability, traceability, and authentic luxury. Crediting her cultural heritage for her creativity and views on sustainable fashion, Hearst explains, “You learn so much when you grow up in such a remote place, and also, you’re well rooted because your family’s been there for a long time.”61 Additionally, she acknowledges the influence of her mother, who instilled in her the conviction that we are all responsible for ensuring a sustainable future. In general, Hearst’s approach to fashion design is to go slow and

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small with an emphasis on handcrafted items. She has developed long-standing partnerships with women’s cooperatives in Latin America including Manos del Uruguay and the Bolivian collective Madres & Artesanas Tex. These cooperatives comprise hundreds of female artisan dyers, knitters, and weavers specializing in handmade production methods such as macramé and crochet. Many of the vibrant knit pieces in Hearst’s collections are created by these artisans. Additionally, their skilled work has been presented on the runways of designers in Latin America, the United States, and Europe. Hearst’s commitment to sustainability is evident away from the runway as well, as she has sought to establish new industry standards through innovation. Her New York City flagship store, for example, was built from reclaimed oak free of synthetic chemical treatments and uses built-in light occupancy-sensors throughout the store to reduce electrical consumption.62 The designer’s belief in industry accountability led her to partner with the Israeli company, TIPA, to manufacture biodegradable and compostable packaging for all her products. Additionally, her boutiques use only carver hangers made from recycled cardboard, which any vendor carrying Hearst’s designs is also required to use.63 Efforts to rectify the unsustainable exploitation of raw materials has precipitated collaborations bridging cultural traditions, academia, and industry. Designer and researcher Flavia Amadeu has been working with rubber-tapping communities of the Amazon, specifically the Curralinho community in the state of Acre and the Pedra Branca community in the state of Pará, to produce brightly colored rubber (Folha Semi-Artefato, FSA) for sustainable design applications. “We work with local producers and artisans whose economic activities are integrated with the sustainable use of natural resources. The Amazon forest is at the heart of our actions, the cradle of renewable materials, such as native rubber, our main raw material,” Amadeu claims.64 Amadeu’s interest in the Amazon became a passion when, at the age of fifteen, she visited the rainforest as part of an ecological immersion program.65 She first encountered Amazonian rubber while pursuing her Master’s degree in Art and Technology at the University of Brasilia in 2004. “I was invited to collaborate on a project of art and science.That was when I met the team of the laboratory LATEQ at the University of Brasilia, who, at the time, had just developed the colored wild rubber. They were very interested in further developing this material as well as seeing it applied,” Amadeu recalls.66 Amadeu worked with the chemists researching the colored rubber, looking for ways to enhance its production and material properties with the intention of generating income for the forest communities.67 Ultimately, she designed a line of “organic jewelry,” geometric shapes made from natural rubber that become animated on the body. For the 2020 Brazil Eco Fashion Week, the designer collaborated with the Brazilian fashion brand, COMAS, creating jewelry and accessories (e.g., straps, belts, and waistbands) from wild rubber that “give structure to the clothes.”68 Through her collaborations, Amadeu has also assisted Amazonian artisans in developing their entrepreneurial skills. These collaborations facilitate the management of vital

Figure 5.8 (left)  For Gabriela Hearst’s spring–summer 2022 collection, luxurious knits were created by Manos del Uruguay and the Bolivian collective Madres & Artesanas Tex. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images. Figure 5.9 (overleaf )  Fashion Show Sinergia by FLAVIA AMADEU + COMAS. Event: Brazil Eco Fashion Week 2020. Photograph: Agência Fotosite.

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rainforest areas and have even enabled the purchase of small tracts of land within the Amazon by its native peoples. “[Native communities] know how to navigate through this deep rainforest, and they take care of it. If they don’t have a way to live from that, then it’s when other activities come, and sometimes they are predatory,” she cautioned.69 In contributing to global awareness of the Amazonian communities, Amadeu seeks to emphasize how communal, collaborative efforts are critical to supplying sustainable materials to the general public. She has professed, ‘In the Amazon Rainforest, if you don’t collaborate, you don’t go anywhere. It is a relationship that’s built … It doesn’t exist without collaborating with the communities, with cooperatives, with NGOs, with other companies who help everything to happen.” In 2016 Amadeu formed a design consultancy, AMADEU (Amazonian Materials and Design United), which assists other companies in developing sustainable (sometimes innovative) products from materials sourced in Brazil. Today Amadeu works with seven distinct forms of Amazonian rubber, while developing novel products such as rubberbacked cotton that can be used as a leather alternative.70 In addition to the research and development of materials, AMADEU manages their sale and distribution, while providing counsel to newly implemented projects that focus on the conservation of the Amazon rainforest. Collaborating with communities in remote locations is not without challenges. Many of the villages that Amadeu works with have no reliable access to phones or computers, and, as the designer has noted, even when these are available, they are seldom used.71 Complicating matters further are the differences in cultural pace between these insular communities and the commerce-driven fashion industry. Amadeu recalls once ordering material in January and receiving it in December.72 Over time, however, compromise and pedagogical discourses have helped minimize these conflicts. One of the milestones of this year was a contract with producers from Acre. On one hand, it ensures the continued supply for my company, and, on the other hand, the producers know they will keep gaining an income from the rubber. This is really good for both sides, as it results in the sustainability of entrepreneurship as a whole being feasible.73

Amadeu has expressed the belief that her collaborative work contributes to sustainable production while benefiting the delicate ecosystems of the Amazon. As she remarked, generating income from non-wood resources from the rainforest is so important to the preservation of not just the natural environment, but also to preserve a deep knowledge about the fauna and flora, as well as the cultures—and that is about supporting local livelihoods. There is still harmonic interdependence in the rainforest, and the wild rubber has a fundamental role in this.74

Over the past decade scientists and designers have made coordinated efforts to seek out alternatives to synthetic or animal-derived textiles whose production contributes to deforestation, climate change, and the loss of biodiversity. This has heralded the age of biomaterials made from plant leaves, fruit waste, and lab-grown microorganisms. In 2019 Mexican entrepreneurs, Adrian López Velarde and Marte Cázarez, introduced Desserto®, a leather alternative developed from nopal (prickly-pear) cactus plants. Surviving high temperatures and low moisture levels, the nopal cactus is widespread throughout

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Figure 5.10  Flavia Amadeu working with women in the community of Curralinho, Acre. Photograph by ​David Parry.

Figure 5.11  Rubber tapper collecting the sap (latex) from a wild rubber tree. Photograph by ​David Parry.

México, making it perfectly suited for use as a raw material. Mature leaves are harvested from cacti grown in the Desserto ranch in Zacatecas, Mexico, and these are cleaned, mashed, and sun-dried for three days prior to being processed into a plant-based leather.75 Leftover organic material is exported and sold to the food industry. Since harvesting leaves does not destroy the plant, a new harvest can be collected every six to eight months, and a plantation can last up to eight years. Partially biodegradable, Desserto’s leather alternative mimics the look and feel of animal leather and can withstand regular usage for up to a decade. Desserto is one of several leather alternatives that incorporate plants or food (waste) in their composition. Although these are offered as a more sustainable option to

Figure 5.12  Armando Takeda, suit made from Desserto®, a cactus leather-alternative. Fall–winter 2021 collection. ARMANDO TAKEDA.

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Figure 5.13  Nous Etudions, sevenpiece capsule collection for Nike presented during the 080 Barcelona Fashion Week, 2019. LLUIS GENE/AFP via Getty Images.

traditional “vegan leather,” as presently constituted they represent hybrids of natural and synthetic materials such as polyurethane. Desserto’s material is reportedly 30 percent cactus, but it is still an innovation in its early stages. With further development it has the potential to become a circular textile whose production has a reduced carbon footprint, in comparison to that of pure polyurethane or animal leather. In short, Desserto represents a novel material that is uniquely Mexican in origin and production. It has been embraced by a number of companies and designers including Mexican fashion designer Armando Takeda, who incorporated the cactus leather-alternative into his fall–winter 2021 collection, which featured suits and dresses made from this biomaterial. That same year, fast-fashion retailer H&M partnered with Desserto as part of their Science Story initiative, which has spotlighted the innovative scientific research behind new materials. Romina Cardillo, of Nous Étoudions, is another designer to employ Desserto’s cactus leather-alternative material. A genderless, vegan, fashion brand, Nous Étoudions is known for its experimental textiles and oversize silhouettes. Cardillo believes veganism and sustainability should go hand in hand, and this has led her to experiment with innovative bio-based materials while also learning from native communities and their relationship with nature. Cardillo was born in Buenos Aires into a successful textile family, and launched her fashion label in 2014 after studying fashion design at Universidad Argentina de la Empresa. Her unique looks are created using a number of inventive techniques such as her seamless-tailoring concept which produces garments that appear to have been created from one continuous piece of vegan fabric, or her intricate use of quilting. In addition to Desserto’s cactus leather-alternative, Cardillo employs inventive materials including recycled neoprene (developed with the sustainable Argentinian company, TEXCOM) and textiles made from biomaterials such as Kombucha or seaweed. Her latest endeavor has been a collaboration with the aboriginal Wichí community of northern Argentina to produce textiles that integrate novel seaweed-based biomaterials into their traditional textile practices. The Wichí are known for textiles spun and woven from the yuca-like

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Chaguar plant, which has become increasingly scarce. For the Wichí, the continuation of these textile traditions, though the integration of novel materials, is a way of maintaining their vibrant culture amidst a history of displacement. Cardillo works with Wichí women to create knit tunics for her own capsule collection. The collaborative process allows her to develop novel pieces while learning from and honoring the Wichí’s relationship with nature.“This new capsule [collection] holds meaning for me because I started it over a year ago, and I can take the time to develop it without rushing to official fashion presentations,” Cardillo stated. In 2018, Nous Étoudions’ advances in sustainable materials earned her the recognition of The Next Green Talent by the online fashion retailer,YOOX. The following year Cardillo designed a seven-look capsule collection for Nike that was inspired by the Air Max 720. The collection showcased her use of vegan-friendly fabrics and was presented during Designer BA, one of the most important fashion events in Argentina. Most recently, in 2020 Nous Étoudions was selected as a finalist for the LVMH Prize for Young Fashion Designers. Established over thirty years ago, the Brazilian label Osklen is one of Latin America’s most prominent sustainable fashion brands. Osklen has been a leader in responsible production and material innovation that highlights Brazil’s natural resources. Its drive to prioritize and constantly develop ways to enhance the sustainability scope of the brand is clearly expressed in its slogan, “As Sustainable as Possible, As Soon as Possible (ASAP).”76 Osklen is committed to promoting a new luxury that values “Aesthetics + Ethics” and to introducing environmentally responsible fabrics, or “e-fabrics” as the brand terms them, to the luxury market. “Sustainability is innovation,” Osklen’s founder, Oskar Metsavaht, has said. Metsavaht also founded Instituto-E, a not-for-profit civil society organization of public interest that backs Osklen’s sustainability initiatives. Instituto-E brings together experts from scientific and academic institutions as well as from both non-governmental organizations and the private sector. It serves as a hub to increase public awareness of the need to protect Brazil’s biodiversity and promote more sustainable human development. Articulating the organization’s ultimate goal, back in 2016 Metsavaht asserted, “We want to be a center point for innovation and contribute [along] with academic, governmental, and non-governmental organizations to [efforts to] spark even more research.”77 Through their partnership, Osklen and Instituto-E have been sourcing high-quality, eco-friendly fabrics and creating innovative processes. It is Instituto-E that currently oversees the management of the e-fabrics division initially launched by Osklen and makes them available to other fashion brands. To be labeled an e-fabric, a textile must meet criteria set forth in the environmental, economic, and social principles of sustainable development.While it is not an official certification label, the e-fabric stamp communicates to the consumer the sustainable attributes of the production processes associated with the product. Metsavahat explains the connections among Osklen, e-fabrics, and Instituto-E as follows: Osklen carried out the incubation phase of the e-fabrics and now represents Instituto-E’s innovation lab. Osklen is a brand that values Brazilieness [sic] and experimentation with raw materials that are obtained through sustainable processes. The e-fabrics project was launched in 2007 at the São Paulo Fashion Week event. E-fabrics’ purpose is not to certificate but to label its products with information about the products’ socio-environmental attributes.78

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Figure 5.14  Osklen’s Amazon Guardians sneaker. Photograph courtesy of Osklen. Courtesy Osklen.

Through this partnership Osklen has cultivated several materials that carry the e-fabric stamp; these include textiles made from Amazon jute, recycled cotton yarns, PET, and organic silk derived from industry-rejected cocoons. Osklen’s AG sneaker is composed of materials that help to preserve the Amazon’s rich biodiversity and bears the e-fabrics stamp.These materials include recycled cotton canvas, natural Amazonian rubber, jute, and certified chrome-free bovine leather. They not only meet Instituto-E’s sustainability criteria but also promote Osklen’s three “sustainability flags”: Regenerate Life, Respect our People, and Re-design waste.The manufacture of each pair of sneakers involves the rescue of discarded tires, cork, rice straw, sugarcane, cotton yarn, and canvas waste from landfills and also employs locally sourced materials. A portion of the proceeds from the sale of each sneaker goes to promote the preservation of the rainforest. It is Pirarucu leather, however, that has been most publicized, becoming a staple of the Osklen brand. The Pirarucu (Arapaima gigas) is among the largest freshwater fish species of the Amazon, achieving a length of 3 meters and weighing up to 250 pounds. Once processed, Pirarucu skins are soft and flexible and can be colored using natural dyes from the region. “We chose to use mainly Pirarucu’s skin as leather for many reasons,” Metsavaht explains. “The main one is that by [being] a Brazilian species, we can track the entire productive chain, mapping from the carbon footprint to its impact on the locals’ lives.”79 The Pirarucu is a protected species in Brazil, so Osklen sources fish from government-­ regulated farms or lakes under sustainable management regimes, which not only preserve the ecological integrity of the Amazon but also provide employment for locals and a sustainable source of food.80 This species is a key resource in Brazil’s economy, and, as skins are a food-processing bi-product, their use as a leather alternative constitutes a means of reducing biological waste while generating added revenue for local communities. For Metsavaht, this new biomaterial “carries the history of the Amazon’s biodiversity” giving meaning to the product’s concept value.81 Together, Instituto-E and Osklen have made strides in raising awareness about sustainability in Brazil, while shifting public perception of sustainable fashion. However, Instituto-E director Nina Braga cautions that one of the greatest challenges to sustainability in Brazil is scale. “The big problem with sustainable fashion in Brazil is that we don’t

Figure 5.15  Osklen, ensemble with top made from Pirarucu leather, fall–winter 2018, São Paulo Fashion Week, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images.

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have a large enough production scale … products end up being expensive. Most people can’t see the added value behind those clothes, only the final price tag. In other countries, people are more aware of this, but here in Brazil, we still need this kind of education,” she says.82 Economic instability is an added challenge in Brazil. “We are living a huge crisis that affects all industries. Consumers would really like to be able to buy those products, but right now, this is not a priority,” Braga explains.83

Recycling: Making Waste Fashionable In November 2021 media outlets circulated images of a 39,000-ton mountain of discarded clothing located within a makeshift landfill in the Atacama Desert in Chile, presenting the world with one of the most glaring examples of the fashion industry’s impact on the environment.84 As the main consumer of fast fashion in Latin America, Chile is a repository for second-hand and unsold clothing. Originating in countries like China or Bangladesh, garments pass through Asia, Europe, or the United States and ultimately end up in Chile for resale throughout Latin America.85 Worn T-shirts and damaged garments that are not suitable for upcycling or resale, however, are deposited in landfills or fashion graveyards such as the one in the Atacama Desert.This excessive fabric wastage motivated Chilean engineer Rosario Hevia to focus on the textile waste in her home country, and in 2019 she founded Ecocitex. Ecocitex is a company that manufactures yarn from textile waste, and the company’s name is a portmanteau for Economía Circular Textil (Circular Textile Economy). As Hevia explains, “It is becoming more and more difficult to donate clothes because they are not needed. There are so many pieces circulating already.”86 At Ecocitex, clothing can be donated for upcycling or resale, and garments in poor condition (free of non-textile elements such as zippers, buttons, or sequins) can be donated for 990 Chilean pesos per kilogram—around US$1.20.87 Hevia notes that the small fee allows consumers to understand the difference between a donation and recycling—the latter is a service and requires processing. “The only way to eliminate textile waste is to educate and involve the consumer,” Hevia says.88

Figure 5.16  Used clothes discarded in the Atacama Desert, in Alto Hospicio, Iquique, Chile. Photograph by MARTIN BERNETTI/AFP via Getty Images.

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Figure 5.17  Set of four images showing how discarded clothes are made into yarns at the Ecocitex factory in Santiago, Chile. Used clothes are sorted, serially processed into texturized bales, and spun into ecologic yarns. October 2021. Photograph by MARTIN BERNETTI/AFP via Getty Images.

“If we want to solve an industrial problem, we need an industrial solution,” Hevia asserts, summing up the impetus for her company’s work.89 At Ecocitex textiles are first separated into categories; some will become yarn, and others will be broken down into scraps to be used as filling for cushions. No material is wasted. Clothing or textiles designated for recycling in the yarn factory are sorted by color. Color-sorted piles are cut up via a guillotine and serially processed until all that remains are texturized bales of material. Chemical binder, sanitizer, anti-statics, and droplets of water are then added. No extra dyeing or washing processes are used when manufacturing Ecocitex yarn. Because it is made from clothes that have been previously washed and worn, the yarn at Ecocitex is colorfast, precluding the need for additional dyeing and rinsing processes which would release toxic chemicals into the water. A thin fabric is ultimately produced. It gets cut into strips, the first iteration of the yarn, which are then twisted together by machines to build a stronger end product. Since the donated fabric has initially been sorted by color, unique yarn colorways are created. Tones of green, blue, and yellow, for example, are mixed to create a unique turquoise eco-yarn.90 “Each color is created by hand, thanks to that initial garment selection,” Hevia further explains.91 Yarn produced by Ecocitex is sold via its website as well as in stores and via online retailers such as Amazon and Mercado Libre. The majority of sales, however, are made by

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small business owners and to independent designers and knitters. Compared to conventionally made yarns, Ecocitex yarns are expensive, but customers have found value in the unique, limited-run colorways that result from the process. “You must purchase a surplus because each color is unique, and you won’t be able to purchase that exact color again. I find that brilliant!” one customer said.92 Hevia has admitted, however, that the next challenge for Ecocitex is securing the participation of more companies and brands to achieve a truly circular economy. The Munay Sisters is a Chilean fashion label started by twin sisters, Pía and Loreto Leiva, in 2018 after having lived in New Zealand for five years and experiencing firsthand the widespread benefits of local consumption, especially as a means of boosting a local economy. Looking to counter the wasteful practices of fast fashion, the sisters set out to create a fashion brand that generates the least possible impact on the environment and takes responsibility for the life cycle of its garments. “[We were] convinced [that] we needed to be a part of the generation that strives to find solutions,” Pía Leiva explained.93 After the 2019 UN Climate Change Conference (COP 25), which took place under the Chilean presidency of Sebastián Piñera, failed to meet expectations, minimizing the company’s carbon footprint became particularly important to the Munay Sisters.94 The Leiva sisters are driven to maintain an equitable and sustainable framework for their business, keeping their production small-scale and local (all garments are produced in Chile), using 100 percent compostable packaging, and partnering with regional organizations such as the +Algodón initiative to source certified organic cotton. “As a brand, we understand that our work affects the environment, and that the fashion industry produces the second highest levels of environmental contamination on the planet,” the sisters remarked.95 Fabrics are central to the Munay Sisters’ design process, with materials sourced before a collection is designed. When new fabrics are used, they must be manufactured regionally and produced responsibly, as the sisters choose to source material from within Latin America, and all garments are produced in Chile. In support of the local industry the sisters often work with fabrics manufactured at the facilities of Bellavista Oveja Tomé, a historic Chilean textile factory based in the town of Bellavista, Tomé, once renowned for its own quality wool textiles.96 In its heyday during the 1950s and 1960s, it was a premier textile mill producing some of the most highly coveted fabrics in Latin America. However, despite its success and reputation, the company was affected by the 1982 financial crisis, which took place under the dictatorial regime of Augusto Pinochet. As a result, the factory merged with Paños Oveja, a neighboring textile factory in Tomé, becoming Bellavista Oveja Tomé. Ultimately, the company declared bankruptcy in 2008, closing its doors after 100 years. Today, although Bellavista Oveja Tomé no longer produces its own wool textiles—the factory was declared a national monument in 2016—other textile companies manufacture textiles in this historic textile city. The Leiva sisters also rely heavily on deadstock fabrics sourced locally for their brand (including vintage remnant fabrics from Bellavista Oveja Tomé). The limited quantities of these deadstock fabrics make a Munay Sisters piece an irreplaceable garment to treasure. The brand offers a year-round capsule collection, which gets reinterpreted from season to season in new fabrics. A few novel pieces are added to the collection each season and offered in limited quantities. Working with deadstock fabrics has added value to the company’s products—customers cherish the garments they buy because they are aware that, once a run of a particular fabric has sold out, it will not be available again.97

Figure 5.18  Munay Sisters, Alma trench coat and coordinating ensemble, Nature-Elemental Connection, 2022. This look was made entirely from deadstock fabrics produced in Chile. Photograph: Benjamin Salazar. Make-up and hair: Julio Olguín. Styling: Felisa Mendez. Model: Clara Lyon. Agency: We Love Models Chile.

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Figure 5.19  Looks made from Zero + Maria Cornejo’s specialized Eco-drape fabric. Zero + Maria Cornejo, spring–summer 2017 collection. Photograph courtesy of Zero + Maria Cornejo.

In the United States Chilean-born designer María Cornejo has been championing sustainable practices since launching her Zero + María Cornejo label in New York City in 1998. “I was really aware of fabric wastage and wanted to keep every process as local as possible to NYC to eliminate processes that are redundant or wasteful to our time, energy, or the environment,” Cornejo explained in 2020.98 As an eleven-year-old exile from Pinochet’s Chile, Cornejo observed her mother making her daughter’s clothes and then using leftover materials to create matching ensembles for her dolls—nothing went to waste. These early memories of her own mother’s resourcefulness clearly influenced the designer’s fashion practice today. Cornejo’s industry experience of working with large companies opened her eyes to the excessive waste created by the fashion industry; fortunes spent on flights and accommodations while scrimping on materials and labor.99 When she opened her store on New York City’s Mott Street, Cornejo was intent on having the space also serve as an atelier where garments could be produced on the premises. Of those early years, she recalls combing stockrooms for upcycled fabrics—fleece from Patagonia, wool crepes from Donna Karan—buying whatever she could for reuse in her own designs and producing small batches of garments at a time.100 “Everything was made in the back— we would put up a rack of clothes and basically make things to order. I would buy less fabric and recycle things,” Cornejo recalls.101 Today, Cornejo still uses textiles made from recycled or regenerated materials in her collections. Although Cornejo has always been mindful of sustainability in all aspects of her work— producing garments locally and avoiding superfluous trimmings to reduce a garment’s carbon footprint, her main focus has always been fabrics. Cornejo’s quest for innovation has led to her interest in specialized “eco” fabrics, such as Eco-drape, a material specially

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developed for the brand that uses 100 percent biologically degradable viscose yarn manufactured from wood pulp and engineered for a perfect drape. Eco-drape materials are obtained via legal logging or via the use of genetically modified trees or crops and are not derived from materials from areas with a history of common law and/or human rights violations. For her spring 2017 collection Cornejo presented a mainly all-white collection to showcase the debut of Eco-drape, the material used in the majority of the collection. According to the designer, this was her way of focusing the attention of journalists and buyers on both the fabric and the message of sustainability behind the collection.102 In an effort to educate customers on the benefits of Eco-drape, Cornejo and her team created hangtags for the garments that communicated the ecological benefits of the textile. Cornejo has also continued exploring new avenues for sourcing recycled materials. In 2019 she teamed up with the South Korean car manufacturer, Hyundai, to create a 15-piece capsule collection crafted from upcycled car seat leather fabrics as well as from her own upcycled textiles. “We were looking for a talented designer with a deep understanding and commitment to sustainability. Maria Cornejo made perfect sense,” said Sungwon Jee, Vice President and Head of Creative Works at the Hyundai Motor Company. “Besides her timeless and well-respected designs, María’s long-term commitment to local manufacturing and responsible design practices has stewarded and catalyzed conversations of change in the fashion industry for decades.”103 For Cornejo the collaboration was an important opportunity to showcase her values regarding waste reduction and to emphasize upcycling as a way to value ethical consumption. “By collaborating with Hyundai,” Cornejo said, “we prove that our ethos of sustainability and waste reduction is applicable in other sectors. We hope it inspires others to carefully consider how they use fabrics in manufacturing.”104 A case study highlighting this collection in greater detail follows later in this volume. Cornejo’s streamlined aesthetic based on geometric shapes that can conform to a variety of body types allows for collection pieces to be built into a capsule wardrobe by adding pieces systematically over time. As a result, the designer has retained loyal customers with treasured wardrobes to which pieces from subsequent collections are added. Local manufacturing is also a priority for Cornejo. Eighty-four percent of her fall 2018 collection was made within New York, substantially reducing its carbon footprint. When a material needs to be sourced overseas, then production is still kept local, namely, within the material’s place of origin. “If a yarn is Bolivian, then we knit it in Bolivia. If the leather is from Italy, then we make the shoe in Italy,” Cornejo told Vanity Fair magazine.105 As a founding member of the Council of Fashion Designers of America’s Sustainability Committee, Cornejo is committed to helping designers reimagine what sustainability can look like for both production and aesthetics. “Sustainable doesn’t need to be vanilla,” she noted. “It can be luxurious. It can be sexy.”106 Latinx designer Jonathan Cohen has been re-purposing leftover fabric remnants in a variety of ways. Cohen was born in San Diego, California, to parents of Mexican descent. His Mexican heritage has informed his work, namely though his use of Mexican-inspired prints and bright colors. Based in New York City, Cohen partners with the Brooklyn

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organization,Weaving Hands, to find ways of incorporating fabric scraps from his vibrantly colorful collections into novel woven textiles. These are then made into patchwork shirts or even used as a filling for quilted garments. “I’m constantly pushing the idea of fabric remnants just like I push any collection, to do something new with it, to do something that people haven’t seen, a new way of looking at it,” Cohen remarked.107 While the re-purposing of fabrics forms part of Cohen’s larger commitment to sustainability, he is also aware of the financial gains of applying this strategy to his own materials. After his fall 2018 collection debuted, an internal audit revealed that the company was losing tens of thousands of dollars on fabrics that ended up on the cutting-room floor.108 His fall 2020 collection was a celebration of thoughtful consumption and embraced zero-waste design. Cohen featured a patchwork trench coat made from collaged remnants of past fabric scraps as well as one-off looks made from ECONYL®, a regenerated nylon derived from fishing nets, breathing new life into his signature floral designs.109 Commenting on the collection, fashion critic Emily Farra observed, “Upcycling and craft feel like more natural developments in his sustainability journey.”110 For his fall 2022 collection Cohen got even more creative with upcycling, crafting smocked looks from textile remnants and covering hundreds of upcycled Swarovski crystals in upcycled fabric which dangled from dresses like colorful paillettes. “We keep finding new opportunities to take our waste and make it purposeful,” Cohen declared.111 A 2018 CBS news article addressing Latino identity posited that young Latinos in the United States may be “disproportionately affected” by the climate crisis, suggesting this might be due to the high percentages of Latin American immigrants employed in the agricultural industry or who have relatives in other countries that have experienced climate-related issues.112 This may explain the mindset of Latinx designer Willy Chavarria. When designing his finalist collection to compete in the 2019 International Woolmark Competition, Chavarria, whose collections are typically a platform for communicating a spirit of humanitarianism, took inspiration from his own Latinx roots. Borrowing from his experiences as part of a family of Mexican immigrants who were farmworkers, Chavarria juxtaposed ideas of past and future, contemplating how immigrant worker apparel of the 1930s and 1940s evolved into contemporary streetwear. He also considered the primacy of wool in relation to sustainability. Titled “Futurismo,” the resulting collection was an amalgam of vintage-inspired apparel and futuristic garments all lined in wool. Following the debut of this collection, Chavarria requested that customers return the pieces when they were finished wearing them. Chavarria repurposed the wool from the returns, which was then made into fabric roses, and all proceeds from their sale were given to Life After Hate, an organization working against racism and violence.“The idea of Australian merino wool being an incredibly sustainable fiber made me approach human sustainability as part environmental and part humanitarian. I took a human-centric approach to share the idea that kindness is the all-encompassing objective when it comes to sustainability and shifting fashion to more bio-centric fibers,” Chavarria explained to Women’s Wear Daily.113

Figure 5.20  Jonathan Cohen, fall–winter 2020–2021 collection.Victor VIRGILE / Contributor.

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Conclusion Fashion is shaped in part by the social and political forces of a given era. For the designers examined in this chapter, fashion is more than a product of creative expression; it serves as a powerful cultural and political tool through which change can be enacted. These designers collaborate with Indigenous communities, exalting ancient textile traditions while establishing connections between those traditions and modern industry. They work to establish ethical business practices that place emphasis on social justice and share agency with the artisans who have nurtured their own long-established traditions. They are also committed to science and innovation, as many are finding resourceful ways to minimize textile waste, for example. In general, the independent designers and companies discussed here, along with the organizations with which they are affiliated, are drawing upon their cultural and national heritages and daily experiences, in an effort to begin to structure a contemporary landscape of sustainability. As the scholar Sandy Black has noted, the relationship between fashion and sustainability is complex and at times paradoxical.114 She has commented on how the deliberate craftsmanship of couture and bespoke garments seems incompatible with the high-volume demand of inexpensive fast fashion and how the seasonal changes in fashion engender cycles of waste on one hand but also sustain the livelihoods and economic prosperity for producer countries on the other.115 With the growth of the Latin American fashion industry, there is a need to reconcile historical practices with an equitable and sustainable industry. The Latin American fashion industry is valued at US $160 billion, and it accounts for almost 10 percent of the world market.116 Brazil and Mexico make up the biggest fashion markets, while Colombia and Peru have had the highest growth rates in the industry.117 Restructuring industry cycles and shifting value chains may seem like impossible tasks given the economic and sociocultural challenges they present; however, there is a need for targeted educational campaigns to ensure consumers’ commitment to sustainability. The designers, companies, and organizations presented in this chapter are forging multiple paths by targeting industry problems such as waste, over-production, social justice, and environmental damage, to work towards shifting an industry and its value systems. However, their work makes clear that there is no one way toward a sustainable future.The most significant contribution of these designers is the integration of traditional cultural knowledge into their practices, and that is cultivating a distinctly Latin American approach to sustainability.

NOTES 1 Follower count at the time of writing (May 20, 2022). 2 Chelsea Harvey, “Amazon Rain Forest Nears Dangerous ‘Tipping Point’,” Scientific American, March 8, 2022, https:// www.scientificamerican.com/article/amazon-rain-forest-nearsdangerous-tipping-point/. 3 Pia Rey, “40 diseñadores sustentables,” Vogue Mexico, April 22, 2022, https://www.vogue.mx/sustentabilidad/ articulo/40-disenadores-sustentables-y-marcas-latinas-que-­ lideran-la-moda-sostenible.

4 Gro Harlem Brundtland, Report of the World Commission on Environment and Development: Our Common Future (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), https://sustainabledevelopment. un.org/content/documents/5987our-common-future.pdf. 5 Sandy Black and Regina A. Root, “Sustainable Fashion in a Globalized World: Introduction,” in The Handbook of Fashion Studies, ed. S. Black, A. de la Haye, J. Entwistle, A. Rocamora, R. A. Root, and H. Thomas (Oxford: Bloomsbury, 2013), 519. 6 Ibid., 521.

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7 Ibid., 519. 8 Hazel Clark, “SLOW + FASHION—an Oxymoron—or a Promise for the Future … ?” Fashion Theory 12, no. 4 (2008): 427–46, http:// https://doi. org/10.2752/175174108X346922. 9 Ibid., 430. 10 Margaret Maynard, “Fast Fashion and Sustainability,” in The Handbook of Fashion Studies, 545. 11 Ibid. 12 Timothy MacNeill, Indigenous Cultures and Sustainable Development in Latin America (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2020), 6. 13 Janakai Turaga, “Being Fashionable in the Globalization Era in India: Holy Writing on Garments,” in Modern Fashion Traditions: Negotiating Tradition and Modernity through Fashion, ed. M. Angela Jansen and Jennifer Craik (London: Bloomsbury, 2016), 73. 14 C. N. Caviedes, “Natural Resource Exploitation in Latin America Espoiliation or Tool for Development?” GeoJournal 11, no. 1 (1985): 111–19, https://www.jstor.org/ stable/41143518?seq=1. 15 Kaley Roshitsh, “These Women-owned Sustainable Brands are Thinking beyond Fashion,” Women’s Wear Daily, March 24, 2021, https://wwd.com/sustainability/social-impact/ these-women-owned-sustainable-brands-are-thinking-beyondfashion-1234779822/. 16 Ibid. 17 Fashionkind, https://fashionkind.com/blogs/brands/escvdo. 18 Aralyn Beaumont, “I’m Calling It:You’re about to See These Handwoven Knits on Every Fashion Girl,” Who What Wear, October 6, 2020, https://www.whowhatwear.com/escvdo-­ review. 19 Carla Fernández, The Barefoot Designer: A Handbook (Mexico City: National Council of the Arts/Department of Publications, 2013), http://assets.carlafernandez.com/downloads/Revista-08-Carla-Fernandez_Barefoot-designer.pdf. 20 Ibid., 125, 127. 21 Ibid, 130. 22 “Carla Fernández,” https://en.carlafernandez.com/pages/ about-us. 23 Julieta González, “The Barefoot Designer: A Workshop to Unlearn,” in A Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance, Carla Fernández (Madrid: Brazzolis, 2022), 364. 24 Benjamin Russell, “AQ Top 5 Fashion Innovators: Carla Fernández,” Americas Quarterly, January 13, 2020, https://www. americasquarterly.org/article/aq-top-5-fashion-innovators-­carlafernandez/. 25 Carla Fernández, Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance, http://assets. carlafernandez.com/downloads/Revista-02-Carla-Fernandez_ Manifesto.pdf. 26 González, “The Barefoot Designer.” 27 Fernández, Manifesto, 16. 28 Carla Fernandez, Taller Flora (Coyoacan: Editorial Diamantina SA de CV, 2006), 82.

29 Ibid., 100. 30 MacNeill, Indigenous Cultures, 7. 31 Ibid. 32 Juan Carlos Pereira Paz, email correspondence with author, April 10, 2023. 33 Ibid. 34 ​Juan Carlos Pereira Paz, email correspondence with author, July 21, 2022. 35 ​Juan Carlos Pereira Paz, email correspondence with author, March 16, 2023. 36 Juan Carlos Pereira Paz, email correspondence, July 21, 2022. 37 Ibid. 38 Yola Mamani is an Amyara artisan from the Municipality of Tito Yupanqui, Manco Kapac Province, and President of Warmi Ecosocial Art Project. 39 Yola Mamani, Amyara artisan, quoted in email correspondence between ​Juan Carlos Pereira Paz and author, August 1, 2022. 40 Cristina Paye Mamani, of the Canizaya Community, Bautista Saavedra Province, Kallawaya Nation, quoted in email correspondence between ​Juan Carlos Pereira Paz and author, August 1, 2022. 41 Pia Ray, “Manto: la marca argentina de abrigos y tejidos sostenibles y artesanales,” Vogue Mexico, July 7, 2021, https:// www.vogue.mx/sustentabilidad/articulo/manto-marca-­ argentina-de-abrigos-y-tejidos-sostenibles-y-artesanales. 42 See Manto brand website, https://mantoabrigos.com/about/. 43 “Compromismo y Valores,” Manto, http://www.manto.com.ar/ index.php/es/origen-compromiso-y-valores. 44 Clara de la Torre, Diana Dai Chee, and Veronica Olavide, email correspondence with author, July 18, 2023. 45 See Manto brand website, https://mantoabrigos.com/about/. 46 Christian Parcerisa, “Organic Cotton Has a Long Way to Go in Latin America,” FashionUnited, October 11, 2018, https:// fashionunited.uk/news/business/organic-cotton-has-a-longway-to-go-in-latin-america/2018101139390. 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid. 49 “How the Responsible Brazilian Cotton Program (ABR) Fosters Sustainability in Farms,” Cotton Brazil, June 24, 2021, https://cottonbrazil.com/how-the-responsible-brazilian-cotton-­ program-abr-fosters-sustainability-in-farms/. 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid. 52 According to the United Nations, a South-South initiative or cooperation is a technical cooperation among developing countries in the Global South. It is a tool used by the states, international organizations, academics, civil society, and the private sector to collaborate and share knowledge, skills, and successful initiatives in specific areas such as agricultural development, human rights, urbanization, health, climate change, and other areas of concern. See: https://www.un.org/development/ desa/en/news/intergovernmental-coordination/south-south-­ cooperation-2019.html.

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53 “Proyecto +Algodon,” https://www.fao.org/3/CA0803ES/ ca0803es.pdf. 54 “Program of Brazil-FAO International Cooperation: Projects,” The Food and Agriculture Organization, May 8, 2022, https:// www.fao.org/in-action/program-brazil-fao/projects/cotton-­ sector/fr/. 55 Ibid. 56 “Punto Blanco lanzó una colección con la primera cosecha de algodón orgánico nacional,” Semana, February 15, 2021, https://www.semana.com/economia/empresas/articulo/ punto-blanco-lanzo-una-coleccion-con-la-primera-­cosecha-dealgodon-organico-nacional/202109/. 57 For a more complete explanation of how wool aids in carbon sequestering, see Paul Swan, “Wool and the Carbon Cycle,” International Wool Textile Organization, https://iwto.org/ wp-­content/uploads/2020/04/IWTO_Wool-Carbon-Cycle. pdf. 58 Ana Livni, “A Spotlight on: The Production of Wool Fiber in Uruguay,” in Global Perspectives in Sustainable Fashion, ed. Alison Gwilt, Alice Payne, and Evelise Anicet Rüthschilling (London: Bloomsbury Visual Arts, 2019), 25. 59 “Wool,” Gabriela Hearst, https://www.gabrielahearst.com/blogs/ stories/wool. 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid. 62 “Gabriela Hearst Timeline,” Gabriela Hearst, https://www.gabrielahearst.com/blogs/stories/gabriela-hearst-timeline. 63 “Gabriela Hearst in Conversation with Valerie Steele,” interview by Valerie Steele, October 5, 2021, video. The Museum at FIT Fashion Culture series. https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=G4QBTXS3AVs. 64 Flavia Amadeu, “Rubber from the Amazon Rainforest FLAVIA AMADEU to The Sustainable Angle,” interview by The Sustainable Angle, January 27, 2017, http://www.flaviaamadeu. com/blog/rubber-from-the-amazon-rainforest-flavia-­amadeuto-the-sustainable-angle. 65 Suzanne Delaney, “In Conversation with Flavia Amadeu,” R. Planet, blog, April 21, 2021, https://rplanet.co.uk/blogs/ journal/in-conversation-with-flavia-amadeau. 66 Amy Dufault, “In Our Resource Library: Flavia Amadeu’s Wild Amazonian Rubber,” interview by Amy Dufault, Amy Dufault, blog, July 13, 2018, https://www.amydufault.com/in-our-resource-library-flavia-amadeus-wild-amazonian-rubber/. 67 Flavia Amadeu, interview with author, audio recording, April 20, 2022. 68 “FLAVIA AMADEU > BRASIL ECO FASHION WEEK,” Associaça˘o Brasileira de Estilistas, 2020, https://abest.com.br/ colecoes/flavia-amadeu-brasil-eco-fashion-week/. 69 Amadeu, interview with author, April 20, 2022. 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid.

73 Flavia Amadeu, interview by Servane Mouazan, Ogunté, blog, https://www.ogunte.com/blog/profile/flavia-amadeu/. 74 Ibid. 75 Jessica Stewart, “Two Men Created ‘Leather’ from Cactus to Save Animals and the Environment,” My Modern Met, February 28, 2020, https://mymodernmet.com/vegan-cactus-leather-­ desserto/. 76 “Ethics and Sustainability,” Osklen, https://www.osklen.com/ ethics-and-sustainability. 77 Luana Dorneals, “Chatting about Fashion and Sustainability with Oskar Metsavaht,” Vice, May 16, 2016, https://www. vice.com/en/article/qbxgk7/chatting-about-fashion-and-­ sustainability-with-oskar-metsavaht. 78 “Osklen Experiments with the Formula of New Luxury: Curator José Teunissen in Conversation with Oskar Metsavht,” State of Fashion, https://www.stateoffashion.org/en/news/ osklen-experiments/. 79 Ibid. 80 Ibid. 81 Ibid. 82 Dorneals, “Chatting about Fashion.” 83 Ibid. 84 Andrea Miliani, “Inside a Chilean Factory Turning Old Clothes into High-Quality Eco-Yarn,” Vogue, April 21, 2022, https://www.vogue.com/article/inside-ecocitex-yarn-­ factory?redirectURL=https://www.vogue.com/article/ inside-ecocitex-yarn-factory. 85 “Chile’s Desert Dumping Ground for Fast Fashion Leftovers,” Aljazeera, November 8, 2021, https://www.aljazeera.com/ gallery/2021/11/8/chiles-desert-dumping-ground-for-fastfashion-leftovers. 86 Miliani, “Inside a Chilean Factory.” 87 Ibid. 88 Ibid. 89 Ibid. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibid. 92 Ibid. 93 “Munay Sisters: The Importance of Organic Cotton,” Fashion Revolution,YouTube video, April 24, 2021, https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=TijRe-Kn6ZI. 94 “Munay Sisters, la ropa para la sociedad post pandemia,” Galio, September 10, 2020, https://galio.cl/2020/09/10/munay-­ sisters-la-ropa-para-la-sociedad-post-pandemia/. 95 Ibid. 96 “Munay Sisters: The Importance of Organic Cotton.” 97 Pia and Loreto Leiva, email correspondence with author, July 11, 2022. 98 Marie Salcido, “A Moment with Maria Cornejo,” The Fullest, January 9, 2020, https://thefullest.com/2020/01/09/ a-moment-with-maria-cornejo/. 99 “Carving her Identity” with Maria Cornejo, interview with Laura Vinroot Poole, in What We Wore, podcast audio, February

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4, 2022, https://whatwewore.libsyn.com/carving-her-­identitymaria-cornejo. 100 Ibid. 101 Carolina O’Neill, “Designer Maria Cornejo Talks Fashion’s Effect on the Environment—and How the Way You Shop Can Help,” Marie Claire, April 12, 2017, https://www.marieclaire. com/fashion/news/a26402/maria-cornejo-on-sustainable-­ fashion/. 102 Maria Cornejo, “How Fashion Designer Maria Cornejo is Bringing Us Back to the Future,” Mission, https://missionmag. org/back-to-the-future/. 103 Ryan Killian Krause, “Hyundai Debuted Sustainable Capsule Collection with Zero + Maria Cornejo,” V Magazine, September 10, 2019, https://vmagazine.com/ article/hyundai-debuted-sustainable-capsule-collectionwith-­zero-maria-cornejo/#:~:text=Zero%20%2B%20 Maria%20Cornejo-,Hyundai%20Debuted%20Sustainable%20Capsule%20Collection%20with%20Zero%20%2B%20 Maria%20Cornejo,ready%2Dto%2Dwear%20fashion. 104 Maria Cornejo and Hyundai Motors, “Re:Style with Maria Cornejo,” Hyundai, https://www.hyundai.com/worldwide/en/ lifestyle/restyle-w-maria-cornejo. 105 Alexis Canter, “This is What Sustainable Luxury Fashion Looks Like,” Vanity Fair, April 9, 2020, https://www.vanityfair.com/ style/2020/04/this-is-what-sustainable-luxury-fashion-lookslike. 106 Ibid. 107 Clifford Pugh, “Fashion Designer Jonathan Cohen Swoops into Houston, Bringing the Energy and a Sense of Escape,” Paper City, March 8, 2022, https://www.papercitymag.com/ fashion/jonathan-cohen-fashion-designer-debuts-houston-­ collection/.

108 Nicole Phelps, “Jonathan Cohen, Fall 2022 Ready-to-Wear,” Vogue, April 11, 2022, https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/ fall-2022-ready-to-wear/jonathan-cohen#review. 109 “Jonathan Cohen Embraces Sustainable Design in Fall & Winter 2020 Collection with ECONYL® Regenerated Nylon,” ECONYL, https://www.econyl.com/blog/fashion/ jonathan-cohen-embraces-sustainable-design-in-fall-winter-2020-collection-with-econyl-regenerated-nylon/. 110 Emily Farra, “Jonathan Cohen Fall 2020, Ready-to-Wear,” Vogue, February 9, 2020, https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2020-ready-to-wear/jonathan-cohen. 111 Phelps, “Jonathan Cohen, Fall 2022 Ready-to-Wear.” 112 Suzanne Gamboa, Sandra Lilley, and Sarah Cahlan, “Young Latinos: Born in the U.S.A., Carving Their Own Identity,” CBS News, September 14, 2018, https://www.nbcnews.com/ news/latino/young-latinos-born-u-s-carving-their-own-­ identity-n908086. 113 Jean E. Palmieri, “Willy Chavarria to Repurpose Wool for Charity in Fall Collection,” Women’s Wear Daily, February 16, 2019, https://wwd.com/fashion-news/fashion-scoops/ willy-chavarria-to-repurpose-wool-for-charity-in-fall-­ collection-1203028897/. 114 Sandy Black, “Fashion and Sustainability,” in Bibliographical Guides (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2015), Bloomsbury Fashion Central, July 12, 2022, http://dx.doi.org/10.5040/978 1474280655-BG008. 115 Ibid. 116 Miguel Ángel Gardetti and Rosa Patricia Larios-Francia, eds., Sustainable Fashion and Textiles in Latin America (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 176. 117 Ibid.

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C A S E S T U DY: Z E RO + MA R I A CO R N E J O FO R H Y U N DA I S E T

Melissa Marra-Alvarez “By creating something with a heart and sharing where that garment was made or how it was created means that the product becomes meaningful and educational for the consumer.” This statement, by fashion designer María Cornejo, expresses the motivation behind her 2019 collaboration with the Hyundai Motor Company to create a 15-piece capsule collection crafted from upcycled Zero + Maria Cornejo fabrics and leftover Hyundai car seat leather. The collaboration was a part of Hyundai’s “Re:Style” sustainability initiative, intended to fortify Hyundai’s commitment to lessening their ecological footprint and reach new audiences. The collection debuted on September 6, on the opening night of the spring– summer 2020 New York Fashion Week, at the New York City restaurant PUBLIC Kitchen, with over 300 fashion industry insiders and celebrities in attendance. “The whole idea [was] to do something creative with things that have had a life before,” Cornejo said of the partnership. “It’s about making something new and re-imagining things. Re-create, re-imagine, re-cycle. How do we get creative with less?”1 Upcycled materials have been a cornerstone of Cornejo’s sustainability strategy since she founded her namesake business in New York City in 1998. Reflecting on her previous experience in the fashion industry, Cornejo was determined to reevaluate how she would produce clothes at her small atelier on Mott Street. “I’d witnessed firsthand the amount of waste fashion companies created in their sampling budgets,” she recalled.2 Cornejo combed stockrooms and began upcycling fabrics including Patagonia’s fleece (made from recycled plastic bottles), denim, and cashmere left over from larger companies in order to eliminate waste and excess. Cornejo slowly assembled a fashion practice mindful of waste, supply chains, and labor, becoming a pioneer in responsibly produced fashion. The Museum at FIT recently acquired a striking black and white patterned set from the Re:Style capsule

collection. It consists of a sleeveless waistcoat with asymmetric lapels (one side notched) and a pair of coordinating loose-fit cropped trousers. The outfit is made from two contrasting Zero + Maria Cornejo upcycled fabrics—a Jacquard textile featuring a white abstract splatter motif on a black background and black organic Cradle to Cradle Certified® Gold Dylan cotton denim3— as well as perforated off-white Hyundai leather. The kimono-style waistcoat is constructed from three panels of fabric; the two front panels rendered in the contrasting Zero + Maria Cornejo fabrics, and a back panel of black organic denim. The waistcoat incorporates some of Cornejo’s signature design techniques that minimize waste. These include garments fashioned from geometric shapes and the use of minimal seaming. Other noticeable design details include a single notched lapel and a D-ring metal fastener with a cotton twill half belt. Two oversize patch pockets at the front hip of the waistcoat are placed at an angle and were created using Hyundai’s reclaimed car seat leather. A coordinating pair of cropped jacquard trousers have an elastic gusset at the waistband, which allows for ease of movement. Curved vertical seaming along the right and left pant leg, help to give the pant shape and create volume. Matching perforated leather patch pockets at the front of the trousers are slightly visible below the hem of the waistcoat. Although the four leather patch pockets serve a functional, pragmatic purpose, they are also eye-catching and function as a decorative appliqué. The perforated leather not only adds texture, but lends an industrial feel to the ensemble—communicating the material’s original function as car seat upholstery. The cut, silhouette, and details are emblematic of Cornejo’s design techniques: fundamental geometric shapes are transformed into deceptively simple garments, and sophisticated cuts and angles create shape and volume.4 When the collection debuted, Cornejo shared some of the design challenges it presented, particularly

Figure 5A.1  Zero + Maria Cornejo, set, top and pants made from upcycled Zero + Maria Cornejo fabrics and upcycled Hyundai car seat leather, 2019, USA. Gift of Hyundai Motor Company. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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Figure 5A.2  The complete 15-look capsule collection designed by María Cornejo in collaboration with Hyundai for Hyundai’s Re:Style event, 2019. Photo credit: Hyundai Motor Company.

Figure 5A.3  Pocket detail on waistcoat. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Figure 5A.4  Closure detail on waistcoat. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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Figure 5A.5  Process image: María Cornejo working on the capsule collection. Photo credit: Hyundai Motor Company.

the challenges of working with dense car seat leather intended to be used for upholstery (not clothing). “It really forced us to narrow down our textiles that would pair well with the car seat waste and see how we could incorporate the waste in a creative way,” she said.5 This garment exemplifies how fashion can serve as a means for bringing awareness to issues of sustainability, calling attention to the waste produced by the automotive and fashion industries. It shows how upcycling transforms waste into a product with new life. The partnership between Cornejo and Hyundai emerges at a time when big industry

and the public are exploring the responsible production and consumption of goods respectively. The contemporary focus on achieving sustainability through collaboration is highlighted with this collection. Unlike most fashion collections which are intended for retail, this project serves as a social statement intended to spotlight important ecological issues such as the use and abuse of natural resources. As Cornejo explains, “By collaborating with Hyundai, we prove that our ethos of sustainability and waste reduction is applicable in other sectors. We hope it inspires others to carefully consider how they use fabrics in manufacturing.”6

NOTES 1 Ryan Killian Krause, “Hyundai Debuted Sustainable Capsule Collection with Zero + Maria Cornejo,” V Magazine, September 10, 2019, https://vmagazine. com/article/hyundai-debuted-sustainable-capsulecollection-with-zero-maria-cornejo/#:~:text=Zero%20 %2B%20Maria%20Cornejo-,Hyundai%20 Debuted%20Sustainable%20Capsule%20 Collection%20with%20Zero%20%2B%20Maria%20 Cornejo,ready%2Dto%2Dwear%20fashion. 2 Maria Cornejo, “How Fashion Designer Maria Cornejo is Bringing Us Back to the Future,” Mission, https:// missionmag.org/back-to-the-future/.

3 Cradle to Cradle Certified® is the global standard for products that are safe, circular, and responsibly made. See https://www.c2ccertified.org/get-certified/productcertification. 4 Zero + Maria Cornejo, brand website, https:// zeromariacornejo.com/. 5 Krause, “Hyundai Debuted.” 6 Maria Cornejo and Hyundai Motors, “Re:Style with Maria Cornejo,” Hyundai, https://www.hyundai.com/worldwide/ en/lifestyle/restyle-w-maria-cornejo.

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6

Rethinking Fashion as a Political Act: Challenges and Possibilities in Latin American Dressing Hanayrá Negreiros Rethinking Fashion and Politics from a Latin American Perspective: An Introduction Fashion and politics are two subjects which, together and individually, offer many avenues

of approach. For this chapter in particular, I want to shed light on some of these different perspectives. I will approach the idea of fashion as a cultural phenomenon that has political, artistic, and social contours, and will seek to decentralize the discussion from the traditional industrial, business, and market spheres. In this chapter politics is considered as a set of collective actions that can strengthen or destabilize power relationships not only in the political-institutional arena but also in the matter of economic and social power. What I propose is expanding the idea of politics beyond the moment of voting or the study of

Figure 6.1  Models on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernández Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images.

159

governments, to incorporate thoughts about politics that permeate the fields of arts and culture as well as fashion and dressing as political acts and choices. In preparation for this chapter I was guided by the seminal perspectives presented by the curatorial team of The Museum at FIT,1 which make clear that, in the field of fashion production in Latin America, unacceptable conditions such as racism, the invisibility of minorities, and the failure to meet the needs of the most vulnerable members of society still exist. These conditions have encouraged the use of fashion as a form of resistance and as an indication of social inequalities. Indeed, the work of some designers reflects existing North-South dynamics and even matters of international conflict. Some of the issues addressed by those designers include state violence, identity politics, workers’ rights, access to healthcare and legal abortion, systemic racism, and sexual and gender-based violence. While the confrontation of such overarching matters in the world of fashion reflects broad political issues in the region, politics can also be approached from more local and personal perspectives such as ancestry, race, ethnicity, and migration. Faced with this diverse fashion scene, which is formed by complex social relations, both fashion and politics can serve as platforms for rethinking power relations and retrieving stories hidden by colonial narratives. This means using creative processes to illuminate paths that aim for an emancipation of people and cultures tagged as subaltern. From the periphery of capitalism in places that are understood as the global South such as Latin America and the African continent, life is often fraught with conflict and struggle. Inequalities are ever present, and social differences often have violent consequences. Carrying out creative and fashion work that not only has an esthetic concern but also incorporates critical and political elements in its processes presents some possible avenues that are capable of bringing about changes and a less oppressive and more egalitarian future for the fashion system. To exemplify the way in which fashion can encompass a political stance, this chapter compares and contrasts the approaches and ways of thinking in the work of three women. These Latin American fashion designers understand fashion as a political act that evokes ancestral identities, memories, and epistemologies and highlights the tensions experienced in their places of origin and performance. Dayana Molina, an Indigenous woman from Brazil, presents the esthetics of the native nations of her territory in her design and proclaims the possibility of breaking with expectations about what Indigenous fashion should be by resorting to minimalism as an alternative. From Mexico comes Carla Fernández, a designer who establishes connections between the languages of fashion and art and who moves among the places where clothes are sold, museum spaces, and performance actions. Brenda Equihua, who was born and works in the United States, presents work in fashion that explores her Mexican heritage from the perspective of a designer who is part of a minority in her native country. In their works and artistic practices these three fashion designers present colors, textures, and shapes of their homelands and in more specific cases, like Molina and Equihua, their ancestral cultures. These efforts also establish esthetic and conceptual dialogues with contemporary urban productions. One worthy result of this process is that personal and local histories and aesthetics can be incorporated into dress as collective narratives, which can be worn by different people, including those who are not necessarily part of these cultures but who nevertheless connect with them.

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Fashion, Politics, and Art: Possible Intersections To understand the complexity of the fashion system, it is important to look for creative processes that occur on an artisanal scale outside industrial processes. Seeking alternatives to the industrial system that may be beneficial to the environment, more durable, and profitable for the communities that make them is a worthwhile endeavor that benefits society in many ways. In addition, it is critical to think of fashion as a matter of research and include perspectives developed by fashion, history, and design studies as well as those from anthropological, sociological, and curatorial perspectives among others. This can bring to the table important elements from the past and from contemporary non-market contexts, making it possible to decentralize perspectives and to start a journey of individual and collective research. Doing so can even reveal Latin American sociocultural values such as the artisanal processes of native people and the African diaspora which, though systematically hidden, have strengthened this large industry. Of course, discovering the splendor of these popular and traditional creations is an important part of this movement. Such an approach produces fashion that looks through a political lens. Working in that way is understood here as a set of actions that in the Latin American context are concerned with shedding light on the creative and esthetic processes of peoples and narratives historically subordinated by colonial powers. In Brazilian academic and artistic circles, for example, the idea of fashion was often considered futile and lacking relevance to society. For a long time, practitioners in those fields focused on big brands, million-dollar businesses, and excessive luxury, all of which was out of reach for most of the population. Latin American fashion’s creative scenarios have too often reflected a narrative that has been promulgated by European and US elites. Countering this narrative have been other voices grounded in the symbolic heritage of their communities and in experiences on the margins of capitalism. They have developed all the arguments necessary to draw attention to the fact that fashion is much more than a sphere of consumption. Although fashion has not always been seen this way, these counter voices make it possible to perceive in fashion an important platform of cultural expression. Wearing garments created by slow and deliberate processes represents an opposition to the world of mass production. Evoking unique and local symbols to compose the esthetic of clothes is an act of resistance against the global massification process. Elke Gaugele is one scholar that has addressed issues of politics and aesthetics in the field of fashion theory. Highlighting paradoxes that involve both fields and reflecting on how modernity has made fashion a figure of ambivalence, she wrote: For fashion theory there has always been trouble at the intersection of aesthetics and politics. Modernity has drawn out fashion as a figure of ambivalence: it conflates homogenization and individuation, sells hierarchy as democracy, and poses normalization as opposition. In terms of politics, the episteme of fashion has been historically engaged in the program of enlightenment, with its contradicting signifiers of freedom and dependence. It draws spatial, social, and corporeal orders, defined by the coloniality of power. As such, fashion became a hegemonical cultural practice of Western nation building, driven by the paradoxes of communization, individualization, and gendering.2

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The author also emphasized that, in the context of aesthetics, fashion was constructed in opposition to the concept of art as a temporal, transitory esthetic phenomenon. She asserted that, with the changes imposed by globalization, it is possible to see similarities in the two fields: In parallel with the emergence of industrialized consumer society and as a component of the new spirit of capitalist economy, fashion evolved into a mass phenomenon. In the context of aesthetics, fashion had been construed in antithesis to art as a temporal, transitory aesthetic phenomenon, theorized as self-oppositional, entangled with the ephemeral and contemporary aspects of everyday life. This has changed during globalization. Now the commonalities of fashion and art are emphasized, their conjunctions are fostered, not least as a model for a globalized aesthetic economy.3

By shifting the point of view of fashion as only a business and allowing the emergence of narratives that have been historically subordinated, it is possible to imagine a world in which clothing becomes a political platform, a territory that has allowed broader debates on human rights with the perspectives of the global South. Studies of fashion from the perspective of the fields of visual arts and curatorship can point out interesting paths for other interpretive possibilities. These make it possible to view fashion as a platform for mediation of works and public programs in museums, for example. Discussions about temporal changes and political, social, and cultural events of different communities and societies can also come about with the framing of fashion as an artistic expression in museological spaces.Valerie Steele4 has pointed out that fashion museums are more than bags of clothes by drawing attention to the relevance of these spaces to artistic, political, and educational discussions. On the possible approximations between art, fashion, and politics, Angela Davis presents a relevant perspective on the political action of art by resorting to Marx and Engels: As Marx and Engels noted long ago, art is a form of social consciousness—a peculiar form of social consciousness, which has the potential to arouse in people touched by it an impulse to creatively transform the oppressive conditions that surround them. Art can function as a sensitizer and catalyst, pushing people to become involved in organized movements that seek to bring about radical social change. Art is special for its ability to influence both feelings and knowledge.5

Imagining fashion as an artistic manifestation inserted into a cultural context that favors collective discussions and safeguarding memories is to think about this universe beyond the sphere of consumption and capitalist industry.When establishing intersections between art and fashion it is relevant to recognize that art can be understood as a promoter of social thinking and a tool for social criticism. In this sense it is possible to relate these ideas to the observations of Laura Beltrán-Rubio, who analyzed fashion as an artistic manifestation inserted into the political currents in Colombian society in the 2018 elections. The author highlighted that: [b]y challenging atrocities and restoring humanity, artistic production becomes an essential tool in fostering the reflection and discussion of post-conflict reconciliation, providing an understanding of the situations, creating the

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tools and objects for remembrance, and, perhaps most importantly, identifying, denouncing, and sensitizing the wider public on [sic] issues related to the violation of human rights and injustice.6

As Stuart Hall7 has remarked, globalization is not a recent phenomenon; it has deep roots that go back at least to the beginnings of European colonization and much earlier with the dominance of one power or another over large swaths of civilization. It has usually been an uneven process that has its own form of power. However, through the implementation of alternative understandings of fashion as both an artistic and political field as well as the construction of plans to eradicate social inequalities, it becomes possible to guarantee the access of heretofore excluded people and voices and to bring other types of fashion to the center of the discussion. Here it is interesting to remember how deconstructing colonial ways of thinking has contributed to this perspective—not only in fashion but also in cultural studies.

Rethinking Fashion and Some Decolonial Perspectives in Latin America Shifting focus from the great producers of culture and looking at those who were on the margins in cultural and social processes can shed light on other experiences. It is the possibilities of decolonial thinking as a way of knowledge that make it possible to think of fashion as a potent historical and social record of cultural expression. bell hooks8 has critically investigated the old narratives, suggesting alternative ways of contemplating Blackness; the subjectivity of Black people; and, by necessity, Whiteness.9 She also evokes an idea of Samia Mehrez’s that views decolonization as an act of confrontation with a hegemonic system of thought. This is a great process of historical and cultural liberation for both the colonized and the colonizer. The decolonization process only becomes liberating when it involves both parties. Breaking hegemonic narratives, building knowledge that is not mediated by business, (re)thinking fashion as a cultural and political act, and bringing diversity to the center of the discussion are important steps for starting to decolonize ways of thinking about creative processes and to project possible futures. The elaboration of this thought can engender a non-capitalist perspective and effectively produce a valorization of creative processes beyond those of large industries. Expanding and diversifying the scope of narratives offers alternatives for thinking about fashion from more pluralistic perspectives. The ways that the native peoples of Latin America dress and the esthetics, self-ornaments, and cosmologies of Indigenous peoples are too often considered exotic. They are often perceived and studied in fashion courses or presented by the mainstream media in a way that carries a negative otherness, namely, what is not European is not civilized. However, these are subjects that can foster a diversity of discussion in fashion and the valuing of local stories that were previously subjugated. This exoticization also occurs within Latin American and African countries. In Brazil, for example, the upper hand of the fashion world is still held by White people with European origins. However, this situation has become increasingly under pressure, as people that have until recently been subordinated now occupy more academic, creative, and political

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positions. Public policies and alternations of power make it possible for those heretofore subordinated people to use institutional gaps to tell their own stories and call attention to the need for other narratives and points of view. Here it is possible to connect the scholar Gayatri Spivak’s10 writings about Brazil which question who has the power of speech and enunciation, given the subalternization of colonized people. In another context the artist, curator, and scholar, Grada Kilomba,11 has emphasized the absence of symbolic speech as something that embodies the position of subalterns as oppressed subjects.These are people who cannot speak because the structures of oppression neither allow their voices to be heard nor provide a space for their articulation.

Fashion beyond Business: Socio-affective Micropolitics Fashion is also learned at home among the family, who are perhaps responsible for a person’s first impressions on the subject. Black and Indigenous Brazilian women are increasingly reclaiming the esthetics of their ancestors, revisiting stories to learn more about their own cultures and national references. These stories are not always easy to revisit; they may be permeated with violence, have significant erasures, and/or be based on only weak traces of memory. The study of these memories and cultures is also valuable for people who create fashion. It can enable greater creativity and diversity in the elaboration of apparel. However, this is valid only when it is rooted in self-discovery, as cultural appropriation should be avoided. The fashion runaways have also become territories of dispute over narratives. These disputes often involve other bodies, which are called dissident, create tension in the existing order, and populate the catwalk with skin tones, sizes, and shapes that depart from the hegemonic White and thin body. Of course, there is still a long way to go. Decolonial practices can be carried out in everyday life and its micropolitics, in the rescue of untold stories and dormant memories that no longer fit the European molds of past centuries.

Rethinking Fashion as a Political Act: Brazilian and Mexican Perspectives and Creations From an industrial perspective, fashion is a business and a market. From another, it is creation and research carried out on a smaller scale, handcrafted, and historically hidden by the processes of large-scale production. The slower approach allows alternatives for thinking about fashion in a broader way and creating opportunities for fostering a field of creation of clothing that is more socially sustainable. The three fashion designers who are presented in this chapter bring to their creations and artistic performances the necessary recognition of Indigenous, Afrodiasporic, feminist, and ancestral contributions to society. In that way, fashion can establish a socio-affective relationship that empowers agents to act in their societies and communities based on micro and macro policies that are present within the environments in which they work. In addition to the tensions that they create when they enter the capitalist market, important factors in the creative processes of the three fashion designers presented in this chapter are research and historical rescues

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permeated with personal histories and ancestral knowledge. They are creative processes based on manual and artisanal activities that present other possibilities for fashion creation from a Latin American perspective. These are in constant flux and require frequent updating. In some instances, these fashion processes are driven by work carried out in concert with traditional communities.

Dayana Molina (Nalimo), Brazil Decolonizing fashion is the concept that drove Molina to create her brand, Nalimo, six years ago. The designer is Brazilian and an urban Indigenous woman with origins in the Fulni-ô (Brazil) and Aymara (Peru) peoples. She researches the ancestry of her family, emphasizing the women who have always sewn, to rescue the family’s origins. The great-granddaughter of a seamstress, Molina has found inspiration in the stories told by the women in her family. She found herself at a crossroads in her youth, realizing that, in addition to fashion, other subjects also interested her. Upon learning more about the structural problems present in the fashion industry, the designer decided to study social sciences. At eighteen, Molina got a job in a costume studio to pay for her college expenses and found herself involved in clothes again. In an interview with Vogue Brazil, the designer explained how art and clothes are both present in her personal and professional trajectory. “I fell in love with the creative universe, dropped out of college, and went to live in Argentina.”12 Currently emerging on the national scene, Molina sells her creations through e-commerce and has been part of the Brazilian fashion week, Casa de Criadores, for three seasons. For twenty-five years Casa de Criadores has heralded new fashion designers in Brazil, highlighting styles that question notions of race and gender. In her authorial work, Molina evokes the plurality of Brazil’s multiple Indigenous presences as she seeks to break common expectations in the country of what is Indigenous fashion. For Molina, the call to decolonize fashion goes beyond a trend that is currently fashionable in Brazil. The decolonization process gains meaning and strength by valuing artisanal technologies and handmade pieces, ancient knowledge, and the earth’s natural resources. Thinking about fashion, politics, Indigenous territories, and decolonization in an interview with Vogue Brazil, the designer revealed how she created the movement, #Descolonizeamoda, and how she has applied it to her work. “#Descolonizeamoda emerged from internal questions. I understood that, through my visibility, I could contribute to more Indigenous people being seen. And the importance of collectively organizing and redesigning a more beautiful, sustainable, and real future in fashion.”13 Developing creations with an all-female team, Molina finds different ways beyond graphics to create her brand’s language. The approach transitions through a mix of traditional and minimalist esthetics with a color chart that moves between white, black, gray, and red using traditional and artisanal techniques made with natural materials. The artist and designer understands that her creations and her body are political. During the Jair Figure 6.2 (next page, left)  The Brazilian visual artist Sallisa Rosa wearing Nalimo. Photograph courtesy of Gustavo Paixão, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2021. Figure 6.3 (next page, right)  The Brazilian fashion model Ywyzar Guajajara wearing Nalimo. Photograph courtesy of Gustavo Paixão, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2021.

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Bolsonaro presidency, many questions arose in Brazil over who has the right and the opportunity to speak out and make fashion in a country with a history of more than 300 years of enslavement of Blacks and Indigenous peoples. From 2018 to 2022, the conservative government’s measures, including the reversal of environmental protections, resulted in increased illegal mining, logging, and farming, that have been described as extermination policies—a continuum of colonial times. It is urgent that fashion, art, and other segments of culture are used as spaces of struggle and minority power. That is precisely what Molina brings to her clothes. Breaking with what is expected of unique Indigenous fashion, Molina presents an idea of diversity that is directly linked to the many Indigenous peoples present in Brazil. She changes the status quo of the fashion spaces in which she operates, presenting her community’s esthetics and worldviews.

Carla Fernández, Mexico Mexican fashion designer Carla Fernández’s Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance proposes the concept that fashion is not ephemeral. She stamps political messages on her creations, imagining a fashion market that is less capitalist and imperialist and more one that values and respects the knowledge and actions of native Mexican peoples. The inspiration of fashion that is handmade using production methods that do not conform to the era of machines has guided Fernández’s creations since the early 2000s, when she created her eponymous brand in Mexico City. Fernández and her creative team organize several publications that, while sharing her creative processes and collections, combine critical thoughts on the current fashion scene with special emphasis on Latin American political texts and the appreciation of conscious fashion creation and consumption. In her above-mentioned publication Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance, Fernández revealed her thoughts on how the ancestral knowledge of the native Mexican peoples can help in envisioning more sustainable and intelligent ways of creating fashion: In Mexico, high fashion is made in the mountains, the deserts, and the jungles. We make fashion alongside people whose roots are in the earth from which they sustain themselves. In the mountains, an artisan harvests cotton [and] collects seven branches with which to make a backstrap loom and, seated on a woven palm mat, she makes a panel of fabric. If tomorrow the petroleum supply is depleted, if there is no electricity or internet and the industry is paralyzed, she will still do what she does: She will continue making her own clothing, growing her own food, and building her own home. She will do it tomorrow just as she does today, and just as her ancestors have done for centuries. The capacity to transform materials into sustenance is a key element in a way of life commensurate with nature, in which rituals, world views and sciences are intertwined.14

Figure 6.4   The Brazilian fashion model Zaya wearing Nalimo. Photograph courtesy of Gustavo Paixão, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2021.

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However, some lines of complexity can be added to the designer’s creations. The brand presents itself on its website as a fashion house dedicated to preserving and revitalizing the textile legacy of Indigenous and mestizo communities of Mexico. Here, it is worth looking critically at the idea of preserving and revitalizing Indigenous textile legacies as presented on the brand’s website. The brand asserts strong collaborative ties with collectives of Indigenous people and emphasizes its ties to women who specialize in traditional techniques. When considering these ideas from a decolonial perspective, where we recognize the protagonism of Indigenous peoples and their creations, a discourse that is based on words such as preserving and revitalizing is problematic. It suggests that Indigenous creators and creations are in need of help from a non-­Indigenous people for their subsistence. Laura Beltrán-Rubio discusses this matter in Chapter 3 of this volume, delving into Indigenous heritage in Latin American fashion, and shedding light on a possible “White saviorism” as an idea related to the collaborations of a brand of non-Indigenous origin with traditional peoples.Why do Indigenous textile legacies need the idea of revitalization and preservation to be mediated by non-Indigenous people? Alternately, Fernández’s approach decentralizes the concept widely understood in haute couture from the European model of the traditional maisons. By focusing on a production process that relies on ancestral techniques employed by workers related to traditional communities and valuing creations made by hand and with sustainable materials, Fernández reinterprets what could be considered high fashion or haute couture. Among the characteristics of her designs are wide and genderless shaping that can be worn by different bodies and clothes which result from cuts, lines, and textures worked by many hands and with an appreciation of the artisanal. This fashion designer moves between the commercial and the artistic scenes and also works in the fields of fashion shows and museums. Fernández has pieces in museum collections, for example in The Museum at FIT in New York. In 2018 an interpretation (see Figures 6.1, 6.5, 6.6, and 6.7) of her manifesto, “Fashion as Resistance,” was performed in a fashion show at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. The presentation included pieces from five of the designer’s collections and was accompanied by a live choir and percussion instruments. In 2022 Fernández was the subject of the exhibition, Carla Fernández Casa de Moda: A Mexican Fashion Manifesto, at the Denver Art Museum. The exhibition was designed to show the trajectory of more than twenty years of Fernández’s career, highlighting a concern for social and environmental issues that the designer and her team have with the current fashion system. The exhibition featured eight sections based on key elements of the designer’s career. Jane Burke, curatorial fellow, and Courtney Pierce, curatorial assistant, at the Denver Art Museum worked with Fernández and her team to create and conceptualize the presentation alongside Cristina Rangel and Pedro Reyes.

Figure 6.5   A model on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernández Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images.

Carla Fernández, Mexico  171

Figure 6.7  A model on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernández Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images.

Despite the complexities about inspiration from Indigenous aesthetics that have been pointed out above, Fernández engages in a struggle for improvements in a system that has long been oppressive of workers and harmful to the environment. Through creations that question the era of capital, large industries, and the erasure and genocide of Indigenous peoples, the designer challenges contemporary fashion while offering alternatives for a more sustainable way of dressing.

Brenda Equihua (Equihua), United States Born in the United States, of Mexican heritage and based in Los Angeles, Equihua travels through Mexican and American territories. In the choice of the fabrics that constitute the clothes of her label, she presents her memories of the creations both of the women in her family who have always sewn and of popular Mexican esthetics that feature colorful designs with floral motifs and animal prints. She draws from themes that permeate Mexican popular culture such as religiosity related to the Catholic Saint Virgen de Guadalupe. The saint appears as a large-scale print in opulent and colorful coats (see Figure 6.9). There is also outerwear inspired by the cobijas de San Marcos—blankets that were produced in Mexico and extensively commercialized in the United States. These and other pieces like them work in concert with the lighter clothes and vibrant colors in styles that reflect the desires of Latino youth. Such are just some of the inspirations reflected in Equihua’s work. Bringing Mexican and Afro-Latin culture, colors, types of fabrics, and ways of dressing into a fashion circuit that is established and takes place in the United States can be understood as Figure 6.6  A model on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernández Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images.

Brenda Equihua (Equihua), United States  173

Figure 6.8  Elsa Armida Claveran (in front) wearing Equihua (@ equihua_official) by Rigo Bonilla, 2018, at La Placita Olvera in Los Angeles.

Figure 6.9  Lord Nalige (@lordnalige) wearing Equihua (@equihua_official). Photograph courtesy of Sean Maung (@olskoolsean) and Brenda Equihua, Los Angeles, 2018.

recognizing fashion as presence. Regina Root15 elucidated something similar in her research when she mentioned the impact that the large comb used by some women in post-colonial Argentina known as the peinetón had on nineteenth-century society. As a person of Latin origin creating clothes that evoke colors and textures related to Mexican esthetics, Equihua takes a position and stakes out a presence that recalls the occupation of a territory ­historically

Chapter 6   Rethinking Fashion as a Political Act: Challenges and Possibilities in Latin American Dressing  174

Figure 6.10  From left to right: Josan, Luna Lovebad, Destiny Hash, Pher Turner, Annette wearing Equihua (@equihua_official). Photograph courtesy of Nichelle Dailey (@nichelledailey) and Brenda Equihua. “Equihua Spring 2021 Capsule Collection,” Los Angeles, 2021.

in conflict and the tensions between the societies on either side of the border. Alda Hurtado and Norma Cantú, editors of MeXicana Fashions: Politics, Self-adornment, and Identity Construction, elaborated on the territorial tensions between Mexico and the United States.They based their thoughts on the concept of meXicana, which the cultural critic Rosa-Linda Fregoso had defined in her earlier book meXicana Encounters: The Making of Social Identities on the Borderlands. Hurtado and Cantú explained the hybrid meaning of the term: The term meXicana exalts the hybridity produced by la mezcla, the mixture, as essential to all that is Mexican-ness and references chicanismo to highlight resistance and creativity. meXicana encompasses the Indigenous roots of Mexico while simultaneously recognizing mestizaje—the inheritance of the Spanish conquest and other colonizations, including the French and other cultural insertions from the Asian and the African [continents]. It is at these crossroads, esta bocacalle, that the self-fashioning of meXicanas is born.16

It is possible to perceive in Equihua’s creations inspirations that go beyond the esthetic appeal of vibrant colors and comfortable textures. The pieces created by the designer and creative director carry the values of a Mexican ancestry. Re-elaborated in US territory, this performance can be understood as political if the presence of a creator of Latin American origin, who is part of a minority in her native country, is taken into consideration. Equihua’s style is a manifesto built through the movement across borders and from encounters with the urban cultures of hip-hop and the pop scene. Through her creations Equihua is communicating that we have siempre he estado ahí [always been there].

Brenda Equihua (Equihua), United States  175

Final Threads Fashion will not always be political, but that does not mean that clothes and the world of fashion—which depends on many workers, natural resources, industries, cultures, and dreams—cannot be. This is especially the case for clothes created by people who are thinking about issues such as racism, feminism, and sustainability. Such creations reflect the concept of ModAtivismo,17 a term developed by Carol Barreto whose talents encompass academia, fashion design, and the visual arts. This term unites the ideas of moda (fashion) and ativismo (activism), understanding fashion as a critical space and political territory. One of the processes of rethinking fashion as a political act is in some cases to launch ideas of transformation and revolution against the long endured oppression that has lasted into the twenty-first century in Latin America. It is evident that the concept of fashion as defined by the elites has never celebrated the esthetic, historical, and cultural riches that emerge in narratives coming from the margins of societies. In line with this, Latin American, Black, Indigenous, and Queer people, who have frequently dressed to express their art and to communicate their stories, are making their creative processes into battlegrounds and spaces of cultural and political recovery. In this sense there is a shift in focus from industrial macro-processes to the social and collective micro-processes that have historically been hidden. It is worth emphasizing the importance of revealing these processes and narratives, as they affect those who are researchers and fashion creators. Upon recognizing this perspective, those who so choose can act in society as political agents. When imagining possible futures, rethinking fashion through educational proposals, academic and artistic environments, or online presences is also a way of inspiring people to imagine that they can change the world. And that is also a political act.

Acknowledgments I am grateful for the generous support of the editors of this book, Tanya Meléndez-Escalante and Melissa Marra-Alvarez for their invitation and thoughtful exchanges. I also want to thank the reviewers for their thought-provoking contributions. I am grateful to Laura Beltrán-Rubio for the conversations and research that enriched my elaborations on the topic and to Felipe Torres for his rich ideas and help with the translation into English and with the first edit of this chapter.

NOTES 1 I especially thank The Museum at FIT curators Tanya Meléndez-­Escalante and Melissa Marra-Alvarez, who shared seminal insights into Latin American fashion and politics that have been included in this chapter. 2 Elke Gaugele, ed., Aesthetic Politics in Fashion (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2014), 11. 3 Ibid. 4 Valerie Steele, “A Museum of Fashion is More than a ClothesBag,” Fashion Theory 2, no. 4 (1998): 327–35.

5 Translation made by the author from the Portuguese; Angela Davis, Mulheres, cultura e política, trans. Heci Regina Candiani (São Paulo: Boitempo, 2017), 166. 6 Laura Beltrán-Rubio, “Design for Dissent: Political Participation and Social Activism in the Colombian Fashion Industry,” Fashion Theory 23, no. 6 (2019): 661. 7 Stuart Hall, A identidade cultural na pós-modernidade, trans. Tomaz Tadeu da Silva and Guacira Lopes Louro (Rio de Janeiro: Ed. Lamparina, 2014).

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8 bell hooks was an African American feminist author, scholar, and activist, who was a leading figure in race and gender studies in the United States during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The spelling of her name, bell hooks, the pseudonym of Gloria Jean Watkins, is commonly written in lowercase letters at her suggestion, as she preferred it this way so that her name would not be considered greater than her work. 9 bell hooks, Olhares negros: raça e representação, trans. S. Borges (São Paulo: Elefante, 2019), 31. 10 Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Pode o subalterno falar?, trans. Sandra Regina Goulart Almeida, Marcos Pereira Feitosa, and André Pereira (Belo Horizonte: Editora UFMG, 2010). 11 Grada Kilomba, Memórias da plantação: episódios de racismo cotidiano, trans. Jess Oliveira (Rio de Janeiro: Editora Cobogó, 2019). 12 Ariene Susui, “Território ocupado,” Vogue Brazil (January 2022): 24–5.

13 Ibid. 14 Carla Fernández, Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance, ed. Aurelia Cortés Peyrón, trans. Lacey Pipkin (Ciudad de México: Gemo Litografía Publicitaria, 2017), http://assets.carlafernandez.com/ downloads/Revista-02-Carla-Fernandez_Manifesto.pdf. 15 Regina Root, Couture and Consensus: Fashion and Politics in Postcolonial Argentina (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010). 16 Alda Hurtado and Norma E. Cantú, eds., MeXicana Fashions: Politics, Self-adornment, and Identity Construction (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2020), 1. 17 Carol Barreto, “ModAtivismo como prática insurgente para pensar o Dia Internacional da Mulher Negra,” Fashion Revolution Blog, Carta Capital, July 25, 2020, https://www.cartacapital.com. br/blogs/fashion-revolution/modativismo-como-pratica-insurgente-para-pensar-o-dia-internacional-da-mulher-negra/.

Final Threads  177

C A S E S T U DY: C A R L A F E R N Á N D E Z A D E L I TA E N S E M B L E

Elena Pérez-Ardá López Beyond the popularity of the Mexican folk song, La Adelita (1914) and the romantic vision of the soldaderas,1 the clothing used by some fighting women during the Mexican Revolution (November 20, 1910–February 5, 1917)2 was a radical departure from representations of femininity in dress in early twentieth-century Mexico. With this garment from her fall–winter 2009 charro collection, Mexican designer Carla Fernández (b.1973) alludes to gender and class politics as they relate to the image of soldaderas as well as to the Mexican charro suit,3 two powerful symbols of Mexican identity. Named the Adelita pantsuit, it combines gray and black pinstripe wool with appliqué in purple suede. The jacket is cropped and tailored with a toggle front closure. The neckline presents a semi-attached collar designed to resemble an ammunition belt that wraps around the wearer. Carrying out this fusion between the soldadera and the charro, the designer playfully confronts the masculine and the feminine in the same fashion object in a very subtle way. Fernández used the charro outfit as the root for her pantsuit design. A charro is a Mexican horseman. According to sociologist Beatriz Aldana Márquez, this style derives from the clothing that the Salamanca conquistadors from Castilla and León in Spain wore in the colonies of New Spain. During the colonial period, Spaniards dictated a clear racial distinction between the Indigenous population and the colonizers by implementing the casta system, which created political divisions in all social, economic, and cultural life. While the early colonial charros mimicked the conquistador style, they differentiated themselves from the Spanish conquerors by using more ornamentation and brighter colors to decorate their garments.4 Today, in contrast to its origins in a time when those first cowboys were able to ride horses only with permission from the Spanish landowners, this outfit is considered to be representative of the highest social and cultural classes in Mexico.

Figure 6A.1  Mujeres listas para recibir a Rabago. Horne, Walter H. 1911. Library of Congress.

The evolution of this outfit underscores the complicated history of class mobility in Mexico and its connections not only to wealth but also to race and locality. In the 1930s charrería became Mexico’s national sport. It can best be explained as a living tradition that incorporates rodeo skills and dressage, with riders showcasing not only competitive roping and ranch skills but also

Figure 6A.2  Carla Fernández, Adelita pantsuit, fall 2009 Charro collection, Mexico. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Carla Fernández/Taller Flora. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Case Study: Carla Fernández Adelita Ensemble  179

exquisite costumes, horse grooming, and horsemanship skills. As charrería became a more urban phenomenon, it turned into a marker of privilege. The jacket Fernández designed contains intricate hand-cut suede appliqués, using a technique known as calado (fretwork). In this technique the master artist first traces the design according to the dimensions of the piece to be decorated. Once this drawing is complete, it is sewn to the underside of the fabric to manually guide the needle over the lines to attach the leather on the outer side of the garment. The leather is then cut to contour the stitching on both sides.5 This technique generally helps keep friction from a lasso from damaging the fabric of the suit when a rope is thrown at a cow or bull by the rider on horseback.6 This decorative handcrafted appliqué covers the upper torso of the

jacket, including the shoulders, with geometric motifs frequently used in charrería. The jacket shows dolman sleeves closed at the cuffs and is lined with a silver-color fabric. The pants, flared and low-rise, are also a characteristic of the charro suit. Here, the calado decoration mimics gun holsters on both sides and continues down the right and left side of the pant legs. Functional pant pockets are placed diagonally at the hips. As a designer, Fernández has proposed that tradition is not suspended in time, and she works to preserve traditional techniques. This outfit references potent symbols associated with Mexican identity, charros and soldaderas. Both figures took part in the political history of Mexico: charros participated in Mexico’s War of Independence, and the soldaderas fought in the Mexican Revolution. The

Figure 6A.4  Women revolutionists (Mexican revolution, group of women and children wearing cartridge belts and pointing rifles). circa 1911. Library of Congress.

Figure 6A.3  Detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Case Study: Carla Fernández Adelita Ensemble  181

charro costume is an example of syncretism and of disruption of the caste system. Charros found distinction and self-reivindicación in their motherland, especially during the Independence War during the nineteenth century. For their part, the women that became soldiers during the Mexican Revolution of 1910, rose above patriarchal restrictions and made a daring political statement. Many peasant women accompanied their fathers, siblings or husbands in joining the various army factions fighting in the war—sometimes of their own free will; other times they were forcefully drafted. Soldaderas were in charge of domestic chores such as feeding the troops, washing clothes, and looking after the children. Additionally, they assisted the wounded, served as couriers and spies in

the towns, and procured ammunition.7 Soldaderas were frequently subject to sexual violence. At times this was used as a method to draft them; at other times it was a weapon of war.8 The idea that a woman could be a soldier like a man was radical, even if, while many were willing to participate in the war voluntarily, others may have been forced to do so. Through their appearance these fighting women were opposing a regime that had been forced upon them. Clothing thus became a symbol of freedom. Through the use of historical symbols, the pantsuit is an example of how Fernández uses fashion both to transcend esthetics and to be an agent of political and cultural change.

NOTES 1 Delia Fernández, “From Soldadera to Adelita: The Depiction of Women in the Mexican Revolution,” McNair Scholars Journal 13, no. 1 (2009): Article 6, https://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/cgi/viewcontent. cgi?article=1217&context=mcnair. 2 Alan Knight, “The Mexican Revolution,” History Today 30, no. 5 (1980), https://www.historytoday.com/archive/ mexican-revolution. 3 Yolanda Enríquez, “Traje de charro, legado histórico de México,” México, Ruta mágica, January 5, 2021, https:// mexicorutamagica.mx/2021/01/05/traje-de-charrovestimenta-historia-elementos/. 4 Beatriz Aldana Márquez, “Shift in Social Character: Charro Cultural Representations in Mexican Popular Culture,” Studies in Latin American Popular Culture 36 (2018): 3–46. 5 Carla Fernández, “Charros,” in Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance, ed. Aurelia Cortes Peyron (Mexico City:

Gemo Litografia Publicitaria, 2017), 22, https://assets. carlafernandez.com/downloads/Revista-02-CarlaFernandez_Manifesto.pdf. 6 Ibid. 7 Martha Eva and Rocha Islas, “Presencia de las Mujeres en la Revolución Mexicana: Soldaderas y Revolucionarias,” in Memoria del Congreso Internacional sobre la Revolución Mexicana (San Luis Potosí: Gobierno del Estado de San Luis Potosí, Instituto Nacional de Estudios Históricos de la Revolución Mexicana de la Secretaría de Gobernación, 1999), 23–70 as cited in Daniel G. Grilli, “Las Soldaderas,” Revista Melibea 6 (2012): 51–60. 8 Kendra Gill, “Creating a Culture of Violence: American Discourses of Rape, Murder and ‘Mexicanness’ from the Mexican Revolution (1910–1920) to Ciudad Juarez and Chihuahua (1993–2007)” (MA Thesis, Simon Fraser University, 2008), 22, https://core.ac.uk/download/ pdf/56373451.pdf.

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183

7

Ropa sin género: Contemporary Latinx and Latin American Genderless Fashion Alexis Carreño

T

he Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA) included the Unisex/ Non-binary category in the official Fashion Week calendar for the first time in 2018.1 The inclusion of this category was a recognition of a different way of understanding the relationship between clothing and gender, acknowledging the advent of fluid, non-binary, or genderless fashion. In Fashion Studies, the questioning of gender binarism has been addressed predominantly in the United States and Europe; however, various Latinx and Latin American designers have also reacted to the current fluid fashion phenomenon. How have these designers negotiated the globality of genderless fashion with the particularities of their cultural contexts? This chapter will approach an answer to this question through the analysis of the work of Bárbara Sánchez-Kane (Mexico), Willy Chavarria (Mexico-USA), Raul and Lopez (Dominican Republic-USA),

Figure 7.1  Sánchez-Kane. Spring–summer 2018 collection Men without Fear. Courtesy of Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Photograph: Dorian Ulises Lopez. Production: In the Park Productions. Styling: Chino Castilla. Models: Macial and Andres Navarro.

185

Víctor Barragán (Mexico-USA), and Mateo Velázquez (Colombia), whose designs are all framed in the so-called genderless fashion.

Gender Identities and Fashion Although conceptualized separately, sex and gender operate together in Western cultures. Sex is associated with biological/bodily attributes, while gender is a cultural construct.2 Thus, people are assigned a male or female sex at birth based on their anatomy and are taught to behave like men or women, respectively.3 In the early 1990s queer theory emerged, influenced by the AIDS crisis and gay studies based on the thought of Judith Butler.4 Queer theory questions any fixed identity based on the binary divisions on which feminist and gay theory previously rested. In contrast, the term queer has been proposed as a non-specific notion that expresses the will to be different from what is generally accepted as normal, without being classified within any fixed category. Queer theorists argue that not only gender but also sex is socially constructed. Emphasizing performativity (the process of embodiment and repetition of identities), Butler argues that gender categories are unstable and in a permanent process of becoming.5 She posits that gender is the product of techniques and styles such as fashion rather than of any essential bodily features.6 These ideas have been fundamental to thinking about gender as disconnected from anatomy, and they allow us to understand the broad spectrum of identity that is visible in the contemporary cultural field and that is mirrored in the phenomenon of non-binary fashion. Since the body is clothed most of the time, clothing and appearance are crucial in identifying gender (other factors are behaviors, attitudes, and roles). The dress is a tool that allows, among its other functions, the categorization of people as men or women and associates them with masculinity or femininity, respectively.7 The meanings attributed to the dress depend on the contexts and the historical period in which they are or were worn. Thus, some colors, fabrics, and ornaments at various times have been attributed to women or men and exclusively considered as feminine or masculine.8 However, since the late twentieth century, dress styles have become more flexible. Women enjoy greater freedom in terms of dress, and men can openly show more interest in fashion.9 Nonetheless, contemporary societies continue to strongly mark the differences between the sexes and determine the accepted forms of dress for men and women. Genderless fashion tries to destabilize this binary structure.

Non-binary Fashion: Unisex Clothing, Cross-dressing, Drag, and Gender Fuck Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, trans and non-binary people have gained visibility in popular culture.10 Laws in favor of diverse gender identities and expressions have been enacted in numerous countries.11 These advances have manifested themselves in the field of clothing through genderless or non-binary fashion. Genderless fashion is made up of garments that do not contemplate either the specific forms of the body (i.e., male or female) or the traditional clothing for either of the sexes. Thus, such fashion can make use of any garment traditionally used by one sex to the opposite one

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(for example, skirts for men).12 However, more than legitimizing men in skirts, genderless fashion redefines man and woman as essential categories and calls for individual expression rather than the masculine or the feminine to reveal the person.13 Some antecedents of genderless fashion in recent decades are unisex fashion and cross-dressing that include drag and gender-fuck practices. During the 1960s, unisex fashion tried to end the differences and inconveniences of male and female clothing.14 Thus, American designer Rudi Gernreich among others created unisex and functional looks, for example, interchangeable skirts and pants for both sexes, based on his vision of a gender equality of the future.15 Gernreich’s designs are as revolutionary today as they were in the past, yet they differ from genderless fashion in their conceptualization. Unisex clothing seeks gender parity through androgyny, while fluid fashion aims to end the associations of dresses/women, suits/men. In this regard Anita Dolce Vita, editor-inchief of the queer magazine Dapper Q, states that genderless fashion “tries to remove the categories that suggest that certain garments can only be worn by certain individuals.”16 On the other hand, cross-dressing refers to wearing clothing and accessories specifically associated with the opposite sex by both men and women in various historical periods for functional or erotic reasons.17 Significantly, cross-dressing is not indicative of homosexuality, since some of its practitioners may declare themselves heterosexual.18 Drag, a form of cross-dressing, consists of feminizing a male body (drag queen) or masculinizing a female body (drag king) through costumes, props, and make-up, usually for theatrical effect or an entertainment performance.19 Both genderless fashion and drag amplify the feminine and the masculine through clothing to reveal the artificial nature of gender identities. However, genderless fashion does not seek a definitive feminine or masculine appearance as a result, nor is it limited to a theatrical performance. Lastly, gender-fuck, a practice emanating from the countercultural movements of the 1950s and 1960s, mocks the notions that underlie the gender binarism based on anatomy. Gender-fuck can include the use of, for example, dresses, male shoes, and facial hair in a single outfit to create confusion and ambiguity.20 Adherents to this subculture criticize the commercialization of LGBTQI+ identities and seek to abolish patriarchy.21 Genderless fashion finds its greatest affinity with gender-fuck since both criticize binary and static identities projected from biology, echoing queer theories that posit gender as unstable and in permanent evolution. In the commercial context of current fashion, though, genderless clothing distances itself from the political and countercultural character of gender-fuck. Nonetheless, it has made it possible to spread ideas and make visible identities that previously remained on the margins. Examples of the non-binary style in the Euro-American mainstream culture of the present have been the outfits of the singer Harry Styles or the actor Billy Porter, both of whom, through an ambiguous wardrobe, question the binarism of clothing and sexuality.22 Genderless fashion has also generated changes in the industry. The London-based Selfridges store created the first genderless clothing department in 2015.23 Similarly, various designers have merged men’s and women’s collections in their shows (for example, Gucci, Burberry, Tom Ford, and Vetements) and mixed binary, non-binary, and trans models in their advertising campaigns and on their catwalks.24 Similarly, social media users are increasingly posting photos in non-binary or queer attire.25 Undoubtedly, the questioning of gender binarism has also had repercussions and manifestations in Latinx and Latin American cultures. For example, Brazilian transgender

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model Lea T debuted on the runways of Ricardo Tisci for Givenchy in 2010,26 and her compatriot Valentina Sampaio was the first trans model to appear on the cover of the magazine Vogue France in 2017.27 A year later, the Chilean actress Daniela Vega, who starred in the award-winning film A Fantastic Woman, made history as the first trans woman invited to present an Oscar at the 90th Academy Awards.28 In the musical realm, the Puerto Rican trap and reggaeton singer, Bad Bunny, has challenged the model of traditional Latino masculinity by appearing in his videos painting his nails or wearing pink.29 About the video for his song, Yo perreo sola, in which he appears in full drag, the singer said, “I wrote the song from a woman’s perspective, but I do feel like that woman sometimes.”30 For the January 2022 issue of Vogue, Bad Bunny was photographed in an editorial dedicated to the season’s best female handbags.31 In one of the photographs, the artist appears wearing an Alexander McQueen bag along with an oversized jacket and pants by Latinx genderless fashion designer Willy Chavarria, whose work, along with that of other Latinx and Latin American non-binary clothing designers, is analyzed in the next section.

Latino and Latinx Non-binary Fashion Designers In general, Latin America is perceived as conservative in terms of gender identities.32 However, despite machismo and homophobia, homosexuality is legal throughout Latin America except for certain Caribbean states that continue to be more traditional. Several countries, including Argentina, Chile, and Colombia, have recognized non-binary identities in official documentation since 2022.33 Currently eight countries, for example, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Bolivia, and some states of Mexico, give legitimacy to trans people, according to the Documentation Center of the Trans Situation of Latin America and the Caribbean. However, the life expectancy of transsexuals is low, a significant percentage suffers violence during childhood, and the majority ends up dedicating themselves to sex work.34 The absence of laws and policies that protect the LGBTQI community and difficulties in accessing education and work have caused many gay and trans people in the region to migrate to countries like the United States. But not all North American states accept sexual diversity. For example, conservative political groups in Florida are working on bills that prohibit the discussion of gender in education.35 Thus, the experiences of Latino and Latinx gay, trans and non-binary people are diverse, and influence cultural expressions such as art and fashion in various ways. The influence of genderless design in Latin America, like other cultural productions, is related to the creations of European or North American designers.Therefore, the question arises as to how these proposals generated in fashion centers are received in subcultures and peripheral places and how they are transformed from the creative and material resources available in their various contexts.36 Feminists of color have used the term intersectionality to explain how gender identities are intersected by ethnicity, social class, and body shapes among others.37 Specific contexts and power and privilege structures impact the way people experience their gender identities.38 These repercussions and their consequences in the field of fashion are examined below. Mexican fashion designer Bárbara Sánchez-Kane creates experimental designs that express feminist ideas in favor of gender equality and question the institutions of family, society, and religion as well as the political relations between Mexico and the United States. Sánchez-Kane was born to an American mother and a Mexican father in Mérida,

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Yucatán, in 1987. Initially she studied industrial engineering at the Universidad de Anáhuac but she later took a degree in costume design at Polimoda Fashion School in Florence. After graduation she interned with German designer Bernhard Willhelm, who has also made gender non-conforming fashion.39 Sánchez-Kane’s work reflects a desire to break free from cultural heritages and the rigidity of Mexican social norms. Her collections use traditional Mayan embroidery techniques with a modern approach and they mostly feature Latinx models on the runway and in photographs.40 Although there are many men designing womenswear, SánchezKane is one of the few Latinas currently working on menswear from a non-binary perspective.41 Her designs promote androgyny and seek to destabilize patriarchy. In this regard, the designer has said, “If a man wants to express himself with his feminine side, let him do it. There are too many phobias, politically or because of the Church.”42 Reflecting various illustrations, photographs, and entries in her own diary, her collections shift themes from feminism to menswear without totally removing masculinity from the wardrobe.43 Her work seems to present answers to such questions as: What would the world be like if women had power over men? or What would have happened if Eve had been born before Adam?44 Her designs stage a “new man,” the Sánchez-Kane citizen, whose strong sentimentality contrasts with the dominant Mexican machismo.45 Thus, in her designs zippers on pants or pockets have sometimes been replaced by female purses to question the conventional idea that men should keep women.46 She has embroidered caps with phrases such as “Male tears” or “Macho Sentimental,” which is the brand logo. These phrases allude to the traditional notion that men don’t cry. Likewise, buttoned lapels across the chest that deconstruct the traditional tailored suit and masculine corsets blur the differences between men’s and women’s clothing.47 Similarly, Willy Chavarria has redefined the macho Latino archetype by showing men as emotional and vulnerable. Chavarria was born to a Mexican American father and an Irish mother in California’s San Joaquin Valley. He studied graphic design at the Academy of Art University and has worked for Joe Boxer, Ralph Lauren, and American Eagle Outfitters.48 Currently, he is senior vice president of men’s design at Calvin Klein. He created his eponymous brand in 2015. Chavarria’s creations are gender fluid but shy away from androgyny. “Menswear, womenswear, whatever!”49 said the designer in an interview for the website, them.us. Oversized silhouettes characterize collections that suggest aggression and sensitivity at the same time;50 volume operates as protection.51 The Chicano subculture of his childhood has inspired baggy jackets and jeans. The term chicano describes the culture and identity of people who live in places that were formerly Mexican territories, but which now are part of the United States (for example, Texas, Arizona, and California among others).52 Thus, Chavarria has brought Chicano style to luxury fashion runways and reinterpreted clothing of the working-class and cholos—Chicano gang members—in a clean, sleek style. In this regard the designer stated, “An ironed white shirt, oversized khaki chinos, a black belt, and shiny shoes, there is nothing more chic than that.”53 His spring 2018 show held at the Eagle, an iconic cruising bar in New York, fused Chicano and leather gay culture: a celebration of queer sexuality and eroticism based on the hypermasculine stereotype.54 Similarly, the 2022 Cut Deep spring–summer collection gave a nod to Chicano men. Models included transmasculine artist and stylist Jess Cuevas, former wrestler Ronaldo León, and non-binary model Maxwell Vice.55 The show was opened by four bare-chested

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models wearing voluminous chinos that revealed the edge of their satin boxers: a reinterpretation of traditional evening dresses.56 These garments are related to the baggy pants that skaters wore during the 1990s. According to Chavarria, “Cholos created the baggy pants.The look was never quite appreciated in the fashion industry until it was adopted by the skate culture.”57 On the other hand, the simple lines and silhouettes inspired by the cholo style also find an echo in the clothing of Japanese designers such as Yohji Yamamoto, who, using non-Western clothing techniques and styles, has also blurred the boundaries between genders.58 In his collections Chavarria celebrates working-class Latino men who are feared and judged solely for their appearance; at the same time, he presents them as objects of desire.59 Alternately, he gives space to queer Latin male sentimentality and has redefined masculine power with tenderness: a Latin man carrying a baby in his arms closed the fall 2018 collection.60 Both Chavarria and the Dominican-born designer Raul Lopez consider gender binarism irrelevant. When asked about gender in an interview for the CFDA, Lopez simply replied, “What is that?”61 The designer, co-founder of Hood by Air, created the genderless brand Luar (the designer’s name backwards) in 2017. In his collections, Lopez embraces his Latin origins from a feminine perspective influenced by his queer childhood in Brooklyn.62 His childhood in Williamsburg was harsh as the concept of gender fluidity did not yet exist.63 Lopez cultivated an extremely campy style of dress to intimidate those who dared to bother him on the street.64 Thus, the ballroom culture, hip-hop, and the queer spaces that welcomed him during his childhood and adolescence are the inspiration for his non-binary creations. Dresses made from men’s jackets or skirts made from khaki pants (spring 2018 collection) demonstrate that Lopez’s muse “is a woman who is in touch with her hyper-masculine side.”65 The contrast between the geometry of the pleats and the fluidity of the draped fabric represents the masculine and feminine in genderless garments worn by artists as diverse as African American rapper A$AP Rocky and genderfluid singer Troy Sivan.66 Luar, a “categorically anti-binary brand, ”67 seeks to put an end to patriarchy with hybrid garments: a pleated skirt-pants on one leg was one of the iconic pieces in the winter 2019 collection.68 On the other hand, art and fashion are combined in the non-binary designs of Víctor Barragán, who was born in Mexico in 1992 and moved to New York City in 2015. After studying industrial design, he founded the fashion brand YtinifninfinitY in 2010, which explored internet culture through graphic T-shirts that parodically redefined corporate logos and pop culture references.69 In an interview for Dazed Digital, Barragán said, “As a fictional character, YtinifninfinitY doesn’t have a gender and the clothes don’t anymore. She is an alter ego of Victor Barragan.”70 This demonstrates his vision of the relationship between fashion and gender that was consolidated with the founding of his eponymous brand in 2014.

Figure 7.2 (right)  Willy Chavarria. CUT DEEP collection, spring–summer 2022. Photograph by Cindy Ord/Getty Images. Figure 7.3 (overleaf  )  Luar. Spring–summer 2022 collection, Teteo Basico. Photograph: Danny Lim for LUAR.

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Barragán combines art direction, photography, and performance to show his collections.71 His inspiration comes from the television culture of the 1990s, the Mexican subcultures—punks, metalheads, goths, etc.—that gathered in the Chopo market, and his adolescence as a working-class gay youth in Mexico City. In this regard the designer has said, “Growing up in Mexico, machismo culture is everywhere—on the streets, on TV, in your family. So, the idea behind the work is how men always need to look big and muscular.To create their own shield to repress emotions.We can’t ask for help or be vulnerable.”72 In designs made with different cuts and sizes but for all bodies, personality and individuality stand out over gender.73 The creator mixes men’s, women’s, and unisex clothing with a strong sexual charge and defines his proposal as “sex positive.”74 Barragán’s fluid sexuality breaks genders and stereotypes. Designs include unexpected cut-outs at the chest or knees, BDSM black leather pants, plunging necklines, and tailored suits worn without shirts.75 Barragán seeks the self-expression of a digital generation free from the rules of the physical world.76 He expresses new and diverse identities inspired by his gay and trans friends of various ethnicities and bodies on which he tests his designs. The creator states, “Being gay or trans doesn’t mean that you have to be sexualized, dress certain way or appear naked. It’s something that has been conditioned. The spectrum is wider than that.”77 Similarly, the designer Mateo Velásquez addresses gender issues, LGBTQ+ spaces, and some multicultural elements from a sustainable approach.78 Velásquez, born in Colombia, grew up in Spain and graduated from Central Saint Martins in 2017. The designer, who identifies as queer, examines masculinity and cultural norms not to define “what are men’s clothes and what are women’s clothes, but to challenge these definitions” in order to “find authenticity when dressing.”79 This authenticity is based on personal instinct outside the social conventions imposed on gender. The designer affirms “all queer people, non-­ binary people, women, ethnic minorities have felt—or have been attacked … for wearing something that defies the norm.”80 Velásquez seeks to empower people through diversity in fashion to achieve tolerance and equality. His spring 2018 collection called Club Tropicana took as a reference the Colombian narco culture of the 1970s and 1980s as documented by photographer Danny Lyon. The collection reflected upon “the glamor of narco culture and the poverty caused by political corruption and inequality.”81 Likewise, the clothing referenced the Barranquilla carnival and Colombian textiles, embroidery, and ornaments82 through red lace shirts, denim jackets and pants embroidered with flowers and exotic birds, crop tops, and animal print coats. Leather Boys, his next collection, was composed of, among other garments, jackets and pants made from leather and denim, some of them joined with chains and pearl beads. The inspiration was “Casa Susana,” a series of 1970s photographs documenting a group of straight men traveling out of NYC to dress as women—some even encouraged by their wives.83 These photographs demonstrated the designer’s interest in subcultures

Figure 7.4 (next page, left)  Barragán. Spring–summer 2018 collection. Photograph by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images for NYFW: The Shows. Figure 7.5 (next page, right)  Mateo Velásquez. Leather Boys II, fall– winter 2021 collection. Photograph: Mateo Velásquez AW 21 Show.

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where “the hypermasculine atmosphere allows for homoerotic behavior, fluid sexuality, and expression.”84 In contrast, the Leather Boys II collection delved more explicitly into 1970s queer communities which identified with motorbike masculinity.The collection challenged the masculine leather archetype represented in photographs by Hal Fischer, who documented the Castro gay neighborhood in San Francisco during the 1970s, or drawings by artists such as Tom of Finland, who illustrated muscular men dressed in leather clothing and other uniforms in homoerotic scenes, for example.85 Although some leather communities were based on ideas related to motorcycling or sex, these elements were not necessarily practiced by their members; however, they functioned as bonds of social belonging.86 According to Velásquez, “we must protect our LGBTQ+ spaces … and recover the type of families and security that could be found within a community where you can be yourself.”87 The garments were made from second-hand leather clothing cut in contemporary patterns. Recycled leather operated symbolically as a recovery of a masculinity that moves away from toxicity.88 According to the designer, “masculinity becomes toxic when men do not express themselves emotionally or creatively for fear of being labeled as feminine.”89 Velásquez considers that masculinity as a social construct must be redefined and accepted in all its forms and with all its complexities so that it is freed from “social expectations, norms, and gender hierarchies.”90 Ultimately, the recycled materials in this collection emphasized the need to rethink the ways in which apparel is produced and consumed.The designer states, “I hope that fashion becomes truly transparent and stops using sustainable terms for marketing strategies.”91 His objective is to make garments that contemplate the supply chain, the environment, and social responsibility.

Conclusion Several of the designers mentioned in this chapter agree that non-binary fashion seeks to overcome gender categories and favors individuality. Unisex fashion and drag elements are present in their collections, but, as I have demonstrated, gender-fuck ideas resonate with greater force. These ideas have been reinterpreted from their singular cultural contexts. To varying degrees, this differentiates their collections from others emanating from Europe or the United States. Most of the designers have selected Latinx and models of color to give visibility to body types that have been typically underrepresented in the fashion industry and mention toxic masculinity and machismo as the starting point for their reflections on gender. In this regard, it is important to note that machismo is considered a characteristic of Latino masculinities.92 Traditionally, moreover, the use of this term in the United States carries discriminatory elements towards Latino men in general, and Mexicans in particular.93 However, since the mid-1990s, a crisis of Latino masculinities has been perceived because of feminist questioning of men’s privileges, the systematic incorporation of women into work, and a redistribution of domestic chores within family groups.94 Therefore, currently, machismo is recognized as a constituent element of the Latino identity narrative but at the same time as something to be overcome.95 The work of the designers studied here mirrors this change. Finally, unlike the Latin designers who preceded them and have achieved visibility on the international circuit such as Oscar de La Renta or Carolina Herrera, to mention just two, these young creators speak openly about issues related to class, ethnicity, and gender.

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This is due in part to the fact that they work in experimental ways and, therefore, they have had less pressure to fit in with the tastes and styles of commercial fashion. Above all, however, this openness is due to feminist, queer, and intersectional discourses that have permeated the fashion circuit with a demand for more representation and inclusion.

NOTES 1 Kala Herh, “What is Gender-Fluid Clothing? Fashion Industry Experts Explain,” NBC News, June 29, 2021, https://www. nbcnews.com/select/shopping/gender-fluid-clothingncna1270831. 2 Hazel Clark and Leena-Maija Rossi, “Clothes (Un)make the (Wo)man—Ungendering Fashion (2015)?” in Crossing Gender Boundaries: Fashion to Create, Disrupt and Transcend, ed. Andrew Reilly and Ben Barry (Chicago: Intellect, 2020), 201–218. 3 Andrew Reilly and Ben Barry, “Introduction,” in Crossing Gender Boundaries: Fashion to Create, Disrupt and Transcend, ed. Andrew Reilly and Ben Barry (Chicago: Intellect, 2020), 1–20. 4 Alexis Carreño, “Marc in Skirt,” Critical Studies in Men’s Fashion, no. 1 (October 2013): 59–68. 5 Judith Butler, Bodies that Matter: On the Discursive Limits of Sex (London: Routledge, 1993). 6 Judith Butler, quoted in Joanne Entwistle, The Fashioned Body (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2000). 7 Reilly and Barry, “Introduction.” 8 Entwistle, The Fashioned Body. 9 Ibid. 10 Reilly and Barry, “Introduction.” 11 Ibid. 12 María Dana, “Moda no binaria: Análisis socio-comunicativo de un cambio epocal,” Tesina de Grado, Universidad Nacional de Rosario, 2020. 13 Susana Sualquin interviewed in Graciela Gioberchio, “Susana Saulquin, la gran socióloga argentina de la moda, mano a mano con Infobae: ‘Hombres y mujeres ya no se vestirán con el cliché de lo femenino o lo masculino’,” Infobae, July 6, 2018, https:// www.infobae.com/tendencias/2018/07/06/susana-saulquin-la-gran-sociologa-arg. 14 Jo B. Paoletti and Claudia Kidwell, “Men and Women Dressing the Part,” in The Fashion Reader, ed. Linda Welters and Abby Lillethun (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014), 202–204. 15 Ibid. 16 Anita Dolce Vita, quoted in Amanda Randone, “How ‘Genderless’ Collections Might Be Missing the Point,” Refinery29, February 26, 2021, https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/ genderless-fashion-sweatsuits-inclusivity. 17 Valerie Steele, “A Queer History of Fashion: From the Closet to the Catwalk,” in A Queer History of Fashion: From the Closet to the Catwalk, ed.Valerie Steele (New Haven and London: Yale University Press in Association with the Fashion Institute of Technology, 2013), 7–75. 18 Ibid.

19 Susan B. Kaiser, Fashion and Cultural Studies (Oxford and New York: Berg, 2013). 20 Carreño, “Marc in Skirt.” 21 Ibid. 22 Dana, “Moda no binaria.” 23 Clark and Rossi, “Clothes (Un)make the (Wo)man.” 24 Ibid. 25 Reilly and Barry, “Introduction.” 26 Tom Phillips and Lizzy Davies, “Lea T and the Loneliness of the Fashion World’s First Transsexual Supermodel,” The Guardian, August 1, 2010, https://www.theguardian.com/ lifeandstyle/2010/aug/01/fashion-transgender. 27 Emmanuelle Alt, “Valentina Sampaio Covers Vogue Paris March 2017,” Vogue France, February 22, 2017, https:// www.vogue.fr/fashion/fashion-news/diaporama/ valentina-sampaio-transgendered-model-front-cover-vogueparis-march-2017-trans-transgender/40811. 28 Manuel Betancourt, “Transgender Actress Daniela Vega to Make History by Presenting at the Oscars,” Remezcla, February 16, 2018, https://remezcla.com/film/daniela-vega-oscar-­ presenter/. 29 Vanessa Rosales, “In Pink, Florals and Short Shorts, Bad Bunny Champions a New Masculinity,” CNN Style, November 19, 2019, https://edition.cnn.com/style/article/bad-bunny-­ fashion-machismo/index.html. 30 Suzy Expósito, “Bad Bunny Gets a Full Drag Make Over in New ‘Yo Perreo Sola’Video,” RollingStone, March 27, 2020, https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-latin/bad-bunnydrag-transformation-yo-perreo-sola-video-974467/ 31 Laia García-Hurtado, “Bad Bunny Models the Season’s Best Bags,” Vogue, January 19, 2022, https://www.vogue.com/article/ bad-bunny-bags. 32 Jacob Paushter and Nicholas Kent, “The Global Divide on Homosexuality,” Pew Research Center, June 25, 2020, https:// www.pewresearch.org/global/2020/06/25/global-­divide-onhomosexuality-persists/. 33 Ana Flores, “Latam: Países que reconocen identidades no binarias (NB) en documentación oficial,” Homosensual, October 14, 2022, https://www.homosensual.com/lgbt/diversidad/ latam-paises-que-reconocen-identidad-no-binaria-nb-­ documentacion-oficial/. 34 Maricel Drazer, “Identidad de género en Latinoamérica: deuda pendiente en casi toda la región,” DW, June 23, 2021, https:// www.dw.com/es/identidad-de-género-en-latinoamérica-deuda-pendiente-en-casi-toda-la-región/a-58019832.

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35 Antonia Belchi, “La pesadilla de ser una mujer transgénero en América Latina,” vozdeamerica, March 8, 2022, https://www. vozdeamerica.com/a/pesadilla-mujer-transgenero-latam-­ discriminacion/6473271.html. 36 Daniela Lucena and Laura Zambrini, “Introducción,” in Costura y cultura. Aproximaciones sociológicas sobre el vestir, ed. Daniela Lucena and Laura Zambrini (Buenos Aires: Editorial de la Universidad nacional de la Plata, 2019). 37 Patricia Collins Hill and Sirma Bilge, Intersectionality (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2016). 38 Reilly and Barry, “Introduction.” 39 “Caótica Belleza,” Vanity Fair Mexico, February 2017, https:// www.sanchez-kane.com/images/press/2017/ZOOM_ BARBARA.pdf. 40 Justin Moran, “Sánchez-Kane Celebrates Mexican Culture through ‘Emotional Chaos’,” Out, July 14, 2017, https://www. out.com/fashion/2017/7/14/sanchez-kane-celebrates-­mexicanculture-through-emotional-chaos. 41 Sophie Joy Wright, “Designing Mexican Feminism with Barbara Sanchez-Kane,” IRK Magazine, July 27, 2016, https:// www.irkmagazine.com/post/2016/07/27/designing-mexican-­ feminism-with-barbara-sanchez-kane. 42 Sánchez-Kane, interviewed in La Tempestad, “Bárbara SánchezKane en Nueva York,” February 9, 2018, https://www. latempestad.mx/sanchez-kane/. 43 Wright, “Designing Mexican Feminism with Barbara SanchezKane.” 44 Ibid. 45 “Sanchez-Kane at Fashionclash Festival 2016,” Fashionclash, June 2016, http://fashionclash-festival.blogspot.com/2016/06/ sanchez-kane-at-fashionclash-festival.html. 46 Talía Castellanos Usigli, “Sánchez-Kane: Una nueva generación de talento Made in México,” Vogue México, October 12, 2016, https://www.vogue.mx/vip/perfiles/articulos/entrevista-­a-ladisenadora-mexicana-barbara-sanchez-kane/6582. 47 Maria Bobila, “Meet the Female Designers from NYFW: Men’s,” Fashionista, July 14, 2017, https://fashionista. com/2017/07/female-designers-new-york-fashion-week-mensspring-2018. 48 “Willy Chavarria,” CFDA, https://cfda.com/programs/ designers/nyfw/nyfw-mens/designer/willy-chavarria. 49 José Criales-Unzueta, “Willy Chavarria Uses Queer Fashion to Reimagine Latino Masculinity,” them.us, September 10, 2021, https://www.them.us/story/willy-chavarria-spring-2022-­ collection-new-york-fashion-week. 50 Steff Yotka, “Willy Chavarria Fall 2021 Menswear Collections,” Vogue, February 17, 2021, https://www.vogue.com/ fashion-shows/fall-2021-menswear/willy-chavarria. 51 Nick Remsen, “Willy Chavarria Fall 2018 Menswear Collections,” Vogue, February 5, 2018, https://www.vogue.com/ fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/willy-chavarria. 52 Keith Estiler, “Influence of Chicano Culture in Fashion as Told by Leading Latino Pioneers in the Industry,” Hypebeast, February

20, 2017, https://hypebeast.com/2017/2/chicano-­influence-infashion. 53 Ibid. 54 Remsen, “Willy Chavarria Spring 2018 Menswear Collections.” 55 Criales-Unzueta, “Willy Chavarria Uses Queer Fashion.” 56 Ibid. 57 Estiler, “Influence of Chicano Culture in Fashion.” 58 Ibid. 59 Criales-Unzueta, “Willy Chavarria Uses Queer Fashion.” 60 Remsen, “Willy Chavarria Spring 2018 Menswear Collections.” 61 Nicky Campbell, “In the Studio with Raul Lopez of Luar,” CFDA, October 31, 2018, https://cfda.com/news/in-the-­ studio-with-raul-lopez-of-luar. 62 Mahoro Seward, “Raul Lopez and Luar are Embracing Queer Softness for SS22,” i-d.vice, December 2021, https://i-d.vice. com/en_uk/article/pkpae8/raul-lopez-luar-interview. 63 Campbell, “In the Studio with Raul Lopez of Luar.” 64 “Raul Lopez: From Hood by Air to Luar,” Culted, August 15, 2020, https://culted.com/raul-lopez-from-hood-by-air-toluar/. 65 Brooke Bobb, “Luar Spring 2018 Ready-to-Wear,” Vogue, September 14, 2017, https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/ spring-2018-ready-to-wear/luar#review. 66 Campbell, “In the Studio with Raul Lopez of Luar.” 67 Maya Singer, “Luar Fall 2019 Ready-to-Wear,” Vogue, February 13, 2019, https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2019ready-to-wear/luar. 68 Ibid. 69 Michael Bullock, “Victor Barragán,” Apartamento, May 17, 2021, https://www.apartamentomagazine.com/stories/victor-­ barragan. 70 Trey Taylor, “The 23-Year-Old Designer Bringing 2000s-Era J.Lo Hoops Back,” Dazed Digital, September 30, 2015, https:// www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/article/26722/1/the-22-yearold-designer-bringing-2000s-era-j-lo-hoops-back. 71 Nicole Sijbers, “Victor Barragán. Blurry Line between Fashion and Art,” Metal magazine, https://metalmagazine.eu/bi/post/ interview/victor-barragan-blurry-line-between-fashion-and-art. 72 Marsha Orlov, “Victor Barragán,” Purple magazine, 2021, https://purple.fr/magazine/the-mexico-issue-36-f-w-2021/ victor-barragan/. 73 Sijbers, “Victor Barragán.” 74 Louise Mereles Gras, “Un mexicano en Nueva York,” Gatopardo, September 5, 2019, https://gatopardo.com/perfil/victor-barragan-disenador-mexicano-moda-latina-estados-unidos/. 75 Jocelyn Silver, “Barragán Puts Mexico on the Fashion Month Map,” Paper magazine, February 28, 2020, https://www. papermag.com/victor-barragan-fall-winter-2020-2645328162. html. 76 Vere Van Gol, “Victor Barrágán,” Tunicastudio, https:// tunicastudio.com/victor-barragan/. 77 Orlov, “Victor Barragán.”

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78 David Alarcón, “Mateo Velásquez. Instinto personal,” Metal magazine, https://metalmagazine.eu/es/post/interview/ mateo-velasquez. 79 Ibid. 80 Ibid. 81 Mateo Velásquez, “SS 18 Club Tropicana,” Artsthread, https:// www.artsthread.com/profile/mateovelasquez/. 82 Ibid. 83 Lewis Cameron, “Velasquez: Leather Boys Part 1,” Kaltblut magazine, August 5, 2020, https://www.kaltblut-magazine.com/ velasquez-leather-boys-part-one/. 84 Ibid. 85 Alarcón, “Mateo Velásquez.” 86 Ibid. 87 Ibid. 88 Anna Barr, “Mateo Velasquez Reclaims Leather and Shows What Can Be Done with Recycled Materials,” Fucking Young, https:// fuckingyoung.es/mateo-velasquez-reclaims-leather-and-showswhat-can-be-done-with-recycled-materials/.

89 Ibid. 90 Cameron, “Velasquez: Leather Boys Part 1.” 91 Anna Cafolla, “The Fledgling Fashion Designers That Took Hyères Festival by Storm,” Dazed Digital, October 22, 2021, https://www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/article/54566/1/fashion-designers-hyeres-festival-mercedes-benz-sustainability-prize. 92 Norma Fuller, “Introducción,” in Difícil ser hombre. Nuevas masculinidades latinoamericanas, ed. Norma Fuller (Lima: Fondo Editorial, Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, 2018). 93 Matthew C. Gutmann, “El machismo,” in Masculinidades y equidad de género en América Latina, ed. Teresa Valdés and José Olavarría (Santiago: FLACSO-Chile, 1998). 94 Fuller, “Introducción.” 95 Norma Fuller, “Reflexiones sobre el machismo en América Latina,” in Masculinidades y equidad de género en América Latina, ed. Teresa Valdés and José Olavarría (Santiago: FLACSO-Chile, 1998).

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C A S E S T U DY: S Á N C H E Z- K A N E MAMA D O PA N T S U I T

Tanya Meléndez-Escalante The slogan of the Mexican fashion brand Sánchez-Kane is Casa del Macho Sentimental, the house of a sentimental macho, who, according to the brand’s website, is “a human of any gender that is no longer denying their impulses.”1 The head of the fashion house, Bárbara Sánchez-Kane, explains that to her “gender is a construction, and it is constantly changing, fluctuating. It depends on political, social, and economic factors. The ‘sentimental macho’ is the construction of an identity that I wanted to push to be in touch with the feminine and the masculine.”2 She has said that oftentimes people think that the designer behind Sánchez-Kane must be a man because of the house’s focus on sexuality and its emphasis on humorous irony. However, Sánchez-Kane is, indeed, a woman, experimenting with tailoring and cross-dressing-friendly menswear. To her, it is important that she does so “from a Mexican, lesbian’s point of view.”3 Since founding her eponymous brand in 2015, Sánchez-Kane has questioned her country’s binding mores, proposing a more encompassing definition of gender. For her fall–winter 2019 collection, Las Puertas al Sentimentalismo, the designer decided to “explain, in the most absurd way, what the macho and the feminine are for me.”4 The axis of the collection was a deconstruction of the tribal guarachero boot, also known as a bota picuda.5 Vice noted that “tribal guarachero, a music genre popularized among new trans-border [Mexico-USA] generations, results from a combination of tribal house, cumbia colombiana, and pre-Hispanic elements such as signing and flutes.”6 Regarding the footwear, Vice explains, “the points of the boot can on some occasions be more than 2 meters long. The exotic boots are achieved by modifying regular boots with materials that can be found in haberdasheries and hardware stores.”7 Sánchez-Kane incorporated references to the tribal guaracheros in various garments in the collection from embroideries and accessories to modifications on the clothes themselves. A particularly intriguing piece is the Mamado pantsuit,

named after a term that in Mexico colloquially refers to a male person who is muscular. The designer has disclosed that she imagined “someone doing bodybuilding” as she was creating the design.8 The Mamado suit is made of pink leather that has been embossed with stylized floral designs inspired by Talavera de Puebla pottery, extensively used in Mexico for tableware and home decor.9 In its color and motifs this pink floral leather is a clear nod to feminine domesticity. The single-breasted jacket displays a multitude of tailoring details. It has two-button closures with bound buttonholes, a waist seam, and two flap pockets in the front. The facing of the jacket has two welt pockets on the wearer’s right side; the one on the chest level has a triangular tab closure, while the one at the bottom has the brand label. The brand’s logo is attached on the inside at the center back. The graphic features two female legs open, resembling the letter M, perhaps for macho or Mexico. The most notable element of the jacket is that it has notched lapels and two front chest pieces that elongate into two curved extensions which resemble the pointy guarachero boots. The extensions can be worn draped over the chest and snapped in place or unsnapped and left loose. When the extensions are snapped, the breast of the wearer is more voluminous, alluding to chiseled pectorals, probably in relation to the designer’s wish “to construct a world that was sentimentally strong” in this collection.10 Embroidered at the bottom of the wearer’s right sleeve is a tromp l’oeil silver ID bracelet, which reads, “Sánchez-Kane.” The sleeves have four non-functioning buttons and are two-piece, with elbow darts. At the back the jacket has a double vent, and on the wearer’s right it presents a welted pocket on a slant with a tab secured with one button. The pants are pegged and sit high on the waist. The front has two tab-like belt loops and a button-front opening which has an asymmetrical, zippered fly front concealed

Figure 7A.1  The Mamado pantsuit as featured in “Amantes Encontrados” for Vogue Italia. Courtesy of Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Photograph: Paola Vivas. Styling: Chino Castilla. Models: Emiliano and Samuel for GUERXS AGENCY MX.

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by a flap with snap closures. The garment has front slash pockets with a coin pocket on the wearer’s right, while the pant-leg seams have double-needle stitching. On the back the pants have a two-piece yoke and western-style flap pockets. On the lower half of the leg, the embossed leather is embroidered with the brand’s logo and with cowboy-boot inspired motifs, another reference to the guarachero. The pants have slits at the bottom hem and no embroidery in the back. Sánchez-Kane channels the body builder’s physique with the enlarged pectorals, and the pants have a shape that resembles muscular legs that have been sculpted through heavy weight lifting. This suit can be seen as a study in the ambivalent hyper-masculinity of bodybuilder bodies and phallic tribal boots, which are contrasted with multiple references to conventional markers of femininity. The piece highlights the brand’s commitment to “pushing for gender equality through the breaking of dress codes.”11 During the fashion show for Las Puertas al Sentimentalismo, the designer hoped to showcase “a way of rethinking hetero-colonial beauty” by presenting models of different body types and of darker skin tones and “using cement, skin, feathers, metallic rods, ice, and

Figure 7A.3  Detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

aluminum, gutting the creative and constructive process of the brand.”12 A Norteño musical band accompanied performer Morena Valdez as she sang a bolero, while the designer attacked a large block of ice with an ice ax, a mix of music and strength.13 In her performance SánchezKane embodied the juxtaposition of female beauty and male force. In the designer’s eyes, “Mexico was a macho dominant country before, now women are powerful.”14

NOTES 1 “About Sánchez-Kane,” Sánchez-Kane, https://shop. sanchez-kane.com/pages/about-sanchez-kane. 2 Olivier Zahm and Aleph Molinari, “Bárbara SánchezKane,” in Purple: The Mexico Issue 36 (Fall/Winter 2021–22): 324. 3 Jonathan Velardi, “Interview Bárbara Sánchez-Kane: ¡Sanchez-Kaneismo!,” Tunica Magazine, https:// tunicastudio.com/barbara-sanchez-kane-sanchezkaneismo/. 4 Zahm and Molinari, “Bárbara Sánchez-Kane.” 5 Rodrigo De Noriega, “Las puertas al sentimentalismo,” Coolhuntermx, 2021, https://coolhuntermx.com/modamexicana-sanchez-kane-diversidad/. 6 “Botas Picudas Mexicanas,” Vice, March 31, 2011, https://www.vice.com/es/article/xd33d3/botas-picudasmexicanas.

7 Ibid. 8 Interview with the author, July 4, 2022. 9 Ibid. 10 Cheryl Santos, “pasa por ‘las puertas al sentimentalismo’ con el backstage de sánchez-kane,” i-D, April 30, 2019, https://i-d.vice.com/es/article/ kzmwka/sanchez-kane-show-2019. 11 “About Sánchez-Kane,” Sánchez-Kane, https://shop. sanchez-kane.com/pages/about-sanchez-kane. 12 Zahm and Molinari, “Bárbara Sánchez-Kane.” 13 Ibid. 14 Velardi, “Interview Bárbara Sánchez-Kane.”

Figure 7A.2  Sánchez-Kane, Mamado pantsuit, fall 2019, Las Puertas al Sentimentalismo collection, Mexico. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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8

Latin American Elegance: An Intercultural Dialogue Ana Elena Mallet

F

ashion is a response to the social environment and the cultural context in which it appears. Every historical moment has its challenges, and every community has its own responses to the time in which its members are living. For Ramón Valdiosera, one of the leading designers of fashion in Mexico in the mid-twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, “fashion is the outer personality of an era, the reflection of a people, their identity and their culture.”1 As the designer aptly noted in his definition, fashion arises in response to different identities—whether imposed or constructed—that have developed throughout the twentieth century and with regard to the cultural heritage of a particular time and place. Valdiosera’s characterization takes on a special meaning in Latin America. It is a region in transition, continuously questioning, and under self-construction because, after the wars of independence, the forging of the region’s nation-states was based primarily on the construction of hegemonic identities often associated with their Indigenous pasts, their heroic exploits, and the wealth and romanticization of their pre-Columbian cultures. Those mestizo societies understood that delving into the past to first detect and then appropriate recognizable elements with traits of authenticity would be a valid operation to achieve a well-defined identity.

Figure 8.1  Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2019 collection, São Paulo Fashion Week N45, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/GammaRapho via Getty Images.

205

Figure 8.2  Rendering of a Mulatta (Diceño de Mulata), attributed to Manuel de Arellano, 1711. Collection of Frederick and Jan Mayer on loan to the Denver Art Museum. Photograph courtesy of the Denver Art Museum.

In traditional Latin America, elegance and identity have established a dialogue. Rural or Indigenous communities originally designed and made their garments for everyday events or for ritual celebrations such as the patronal feast or the baptism or first communion of children. The more elaborate and detailed the garments were, the more they reflected the local culture and traditions, and the more elegant they were, the more they distinguished the individual who wore them. Somehow, that idea of handmade elegance has survived. Today, in the work of designers who have looked at and ­re-evaluated tradition, that approach has taken on new energy and meaning. To illustrate this historical process, I would like to start by looking at two paintings from the region’s vice-regal period2 now in United States museums. Both show the tension between opposing forces—on one hand the apparent obligation to continue a repertoire associated with European culture and attire and on the other the desire to respond to local traditions and cultures, the latter in the pursuit of distinction and authenticity. Rendering of a Mulatta, signed by Manuel de Arellano, dated 1711, and now on display in the Denver Art Museum, represents a dark-skinned woman who is bejeweled and apparently dressed in European garb. However, closer scrutiny reveals that the woman is wearing garments from both Europe and the Spanish colonies in the Americas of New Spain. Evidently, her choices declare her mixed identity, which reflects two cultures, two worlds, and two—at times conflicting—ideas of good taste and distinction.

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Figure 8.3  Portrait of a Young Woman, attributed to Pedro José Díaz, 1795–1810. Lima, Peru. Oil on canvas. Davis Museum at Wellesley College, Wellesley, MA.

The woman with a seemingly mixed ethnic background wears a brocaded skirt with gilded hooks, items associated with European attire. However, the skirt is positioned in an unorthodox way because it is not fitted at the waist; instead, it is draped over the woman’s torso rather like an embrace. One end hangs sensually and delicately over her arm, while the other is left open near her shoulder. The disjointed position of the skirt reveals the enagua, an undergarment whose visibility evokes an uncommon expression of sensuality among the upper classes of vice-regal society. A long, rippling, coral shawl encircles her body.The woman is lavishly bedecked in jewels and wears a six-strand pearl choker, luxurious rings inlaid with coral, and showy pearl ear pendants that complete her attire. Her head is crowned by a white lace ornament that, according to the description written by friar Francisco de Ajofrín in 1763,3 was representative of the native inhabitants of New Spain. The extravagant clothing of the sitter suggests that, even in a society as segregated as that of New Spain, clothing served as an instrument of self-definition. This painting is simultaneously a representation of the challenges of race, identity, and social position in New Spain and an allegory of the Americas, the land of the unknown, full of riches and regarded as both sensual and desirable. Portrait of a Young Woman, a Peruvian canvas from the late eighteenth century in the Davis Museum collection at Wellesley College, reflects a reality similar to that of the young woman with a mixed ethnic background. A Creole lady (a descendant of   White Europeans born in the Americas) from high society in Lima is finely dressed in a fitted jacket; a full, lavishly embroidered skirt with a short hemline better known as a pollera, a delicate, embellished apron; and a dark shawl. The outfit is complemented by luxurious jewelry, with pearls and silver, and with delicate silk shoes with showy buckles. Although the structure of the attire might be construed as reflective of the European Rococo style, this type of garb was typical of Peruvian women, both elite ladies and those of the lower classes. It was a far cry from the international fashion that was being worn in both Europe and the American vice-royalties. According to historian James Middleton,4 the Peruvians sought to express their identities through their clothing, seeking comfort in apparel with elements reminiscent both of different European cultures and of the peasant garments of the region. Both woman with a mixed ethnic background and the Peruvian Creole lady are dressed in attire laden with references to European tastes of the time associated with models of elegance and beauty disseminated by the Peninsular Spanish in the Americas. However, by both communicating their own native identities and staking their claim to their position in the complex, stratified society of vice-regal times, the two women added details associated with their social status, culture, and territory (the lace headpiece worn by the woman with a mixed ethnic background and the Peruvian lady’s pollera skirt and apron). In doing so, they sought both the distinction of their elevated place in society and their affiliation to the new world that was actively under construction. The styles and fashions represented in these two artworks affirm that, already by vice-regal times, the inhabitants of this continent used their garments to signal their place in society, to express issues of race and identity, and to confront their own internal tensions as individuals in search of a way to define themselves within a socially complex and multicultural universe. The highly dissimilar and apparently contradictory elements in the subjects’ ultimately mestizo garments reflected identities with indistinct borders, which permitted multiple and versatile readings, as multifaceted as the many ways of constructing, conceiving, and occupying these territories.

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The two examples above highlight that the historical processes of the previous centuries in Latin America are still very much alive. They remain part of the conversation on how and why the inhabitants of these territories find a place and a personal identity in the world. Natives in the region (including this author) are still trying to tell their own history from their own perspective and create their definitions from very personal and regional points of view. In this chapter I will use terms such as elegance and taste, both European and North American concepts. I will attempt to contrast how these terms are understood in Latin America and the attitudes and challenges associated with conforming to them.

Elegance and Distinction In 1925 the French philosopher Edmond Goblot (1858–1935) published his pioneering work, La Barrière et le Niveau, an analysis of the bourgeoisie and their customs.5 In this essay Goblot offered pertinent definitions of concepts of elegance and distinction associated with the desire of a bourgeois class to stand out and set itself apart from the lower-class masses.The most convenient way of doing so was through opulent attire and a willingness to submit to fashion’s continuous changes. For Goblot, human beings dress in response to four different functions: hygiene, modesty, esthetics, and distinction. [It is a] distinctive function because it is the easily recognizable exterior symbol of functions, ranks, and classes. It erases individual inequalities; it creates and consecrates social equalities and inequalities and expresses them … Distinction is neither beauty, nor elegance, nor luxury. It goes beyond all those things; it can replace them. It must be apparent, no matter whether it is superficial [or not]. It often consists in nuances, insignificant details, trifles. It must be exquisite, even subtle, so that it cannot be imitated easily.6

Whereas much of Goblot’s reflection was focused on clothing, in 1979 another French philosopher, Pierre Bourdieu, discussed certain social foundations of taste by affirming that culture can be a differentiator of classes and a tool of symbolic domination among those who seek to distance themselves from others.7 As defined by Goblot and Bourdieu, culture and clothing are elements of distinction, differentiation, identity, and class. In Goblot’s terms elegance is a subtle end, a harmony of attire and the individual wearing it; it is also an ingenious novelty, a happy choice, an expression of freedom.8 Being elegant is thus being different without being either vulgar or eccentric. It is rather being modest and subtle. According to Goblot: Individual adaptation must be made within the limits of common fashion, and it would be scandalous for fantasy to degenerate into eccentricity. The limit of adaptation and personal creativity is exceeded when clothing no longer sufficiently indicates the social milieu to which one belongs.9

Along the same lines the Norwegian-American sociologist Thorstein Veblen (1857–1929) stated that elegance in dressing also has to be an expression of leisure, a demonstration of wealth and opulence without obvious productive activity. “Elegant dress serves its purpose of elegance not only in that it is expensive, but also because it is the insignia of leisure.”10 Hence, being elegant reflects an individual who is sleek, imperturbable, and indolent and who at times exhibits an ethereal attitude.

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Thus, I believe that the idea of Latin American elegance today, moving between two worlds (the traditional and the modern), is as much a part of the process of mixing (mestizaje) that has evolved with time and history, as it is an effective tool of self-representation that brands and designers in the region continue using to present a specific image to the world. As cultural critic George Yúdice has maintained, “the cultural capital of Latin America, its traditions, have not been lost but rather under the economic pressures of the late twentieth century, ‘reconverted.’”11 This reconversion and the recognition that traditions are not static but are in constant transformation leads to an understanding of how fashion in Latin America anchors its discourse in the local. Furthermore, part of Latin American fashion’s own concept of elegance comes from embracing tradition, recognizing the past, assuming an ethical stance, naming its makers and their knowledge, and recognizing a cultural richness that is in constant evolution. Latin American elegance, then, is a hybrid phenomenon that implies a dialogue among cultures, countries, styles, and images that migrate between territories and imagination.

A Latin American Fashion of Global Taste Carolina Herrera (Caracas, 1939–) and Oscar de la Renta (Santo Domingo, 1932–2014) are perhaps the two designers who most successfully conquered the United States market in the second half of the twentieth century as William Cruz Bermeo discussed earlier in this volume. They were upper and middle-class immigrants living in the United States, who always self-identified as Latin American, even if their fashion projects responded to global trends.The styles of Herrera and De la Renta were described on countless occasions in the specialized media as “elegant,” “refined,” and “sophisticated.” Most reviews of them in women’s or fashion magazines rarely omitted mentioning their Latin American origin, as if elegance and distinction were inherent in their Latin American identity. Perhaps the fashion media were using elegance and distinction as terms to indicate that these designers were different in some essential way from European or even American creators. Despite the positioning of De la Renta and Herrera as Latin American designers and the constant differentiation ascribed to them, the fact is that the inspiration for their designs and their references responded to demand in the United States, global tastes, and to certain identity markers necessary in the fashion world. Moreover, beyond the tastes of women (especially in the United States), time and again both designers looked to the South for references and inspiration. They claimed their Latin American identity in this way by intentionally espousing their difference, thus appropriating that ambiguous place in which the press and critics had pigeon-holed them. De la Renta’s 1992 spring collection, dedicated to the sensuality of the Caribbean, is a clear example of this.12 Voluptuous and colorful, this collection presented vaporous dresses and skirts overflowing with flounces. The models with their carefree attitude breezed down the catwalk wearing straw hats and extravagant turbans to the beat of cumbia and salsa music. Feathers and references to exotic birds, exquisite floral prints, sensual necklines with graceful ruffles, and large-scale golden jewelry were especially prominent on the runway. An explosion of color, rhythm, and sensuality enabled De la Renta to call on his tropical origin and to bring it to the table as part of his identity and his essence. This allowed him to integrate it into his repertoire and his marketing strategy. Posthumously, in

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Figure 8.4  Oscar de la Renta, spring–summer 1992, ready-to-wear collection. Photograph by Daniel SIMON/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images.

2018 the Oscar de la Renta brand launched the perfume Tropicale, continuing that strategy of associating the designer with two worlds of fashion: the understated style of Europe and the United States and the exotic Latin American paradise. The Herrera and De la Renta brands invoke their Latin identity. Built in New York, they utilize a hypothetical Latin American discourse, and they distinguish themselves from other designers, making use of tropical or some idealized Latin repertoires that in other designers might be understood today as improper appropriation. However, in both cases their cultural heritage and origin legitimized them and allowed them to make this appropriation and these references. Thus, the designs of Herrera and De la Renta can live comfortably with one foot in each world.

Latin American Elegance: A Glimpse from the South During the twentieth century, the Latin American fashion scene had its ups and downs, being focused mainly on trying to create local markets that could sustain its existence. At different times, though not as an articulated effort, it found echoes in native cultures. In those instances, it returned to traditional techniques, local materials, and ancestral knowledge and called on traditional or local iconography as part of a strategy to develop a local repertoire to pique international notice. The twenty-first century and postcolonial narratives brought to Latin America a greater focus on traditional local production and cultural references as well as a new awareness of manual labor.13 The perception then emerged that elegance in the aforementioned territories arises and evolves from traditional techniques and their symbolisms. The new century also brought the consolidation of internal consumer markets in many Latin American countries as well as a renewed sense of pride in their shared identity. Post-colonial discourses and the acceleration of the digital world have entailed new issues and a different engagement with the same problems that presented themselves in the earlier decades. This meant understanding markets, both local and foreign, and confronting matters of race, class, national identity, and cultural appropriation. For some Latin American designers it is still valid to pursue success in the United States and achieve the American dream by producing in and communicating from New York or Los Angeles. However, there are already at least two generations of Latin American designers who have opted to build a global discourse and address international markets from their places of origin. Recovering personal narratives, family histories, and discourses associated with cultural heritage today are part and parcel of the storytelling in collections. A fair number of Latin American designers working with small-scale, local production have at times forged associations with Indigenous or rural communities. They have found an ethical and sustainable way of being involved in the recovery and reappraisal of Indigenous traditions

Figure 8.5 (right)  Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2010 fashion show at Bienal Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Fernanda Calfat Studio/LatinContent via Getty Images. Figure 8.6 (overleaf)  Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2010 fashion show at Bienal Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Fernanda Calfat Studio/ LatinContent via Getty Images.

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while generating well-paying jobs for communities that were traditionally not associated with the fashion system. These concepts and practices are discussed in greater detail in the chapters authored by Laura Beltrán-Rubio and Melissa Marra-Alvarez. From this understanding arises an awareness that the elegance emanating from Latin America has to do not only with style or what meets the eye at first glance but also with an ethical dimension that affects what is worn, consumed, and presumed. The etymology of the word elegance, which comes from the Latin elego, means to choose, to choose well. Today a group of Latin American designers have chosen their cultural legacies, history, traditions, and territories to create fashion that is local. Local production implies real and symbolic sustainability which can also be projected into the future. In this way, it sets itself apart from the fast fashion that has flooded the world. An example of this is based in Brazil, where Ronaldo Fraga (Belo Horizonte, 1967–) has asserted, “My collections are intended as an encounter between culture and a political stance.”14 In each collection Fraga focuses on telling stories, developing issues, and capturing ideas. In 2009 Fraga presented his Disneylandia collection in both Brazil and Colombia. The collection ironically used the idea of Latin America as the real Disneyland, with fantastic characters and cultures, as the designer let his imagination run wild. Models wearing dresses with references to traditional festivals in Peru, Mexico, and Brazil sported hairstyles that resembled huge Mickey Mouse ears.This collection allowed Fraga to propose the idea of a united Latin America with a shared ancestral heritage and with a common territory and values. At the time Fraga proclaimed,“This collection seeks to represent the tyranny of colonization with Disney characters. It is believed that in Latin America we have cultural poverty, and I believe just the opposite …”15 Fraga titled his 2019 spring–summer collection Las Plantulas. It was made in collaboration with a cooperative of seamstresses in the region of Barra Longa in Minas Gerais (Brazil) after the tragic 2015 collapse of the Mariana dam located there. At the time of the release of this collection, the women were still working in very bad conditions, but their plight and the tragedy had receded from public attention. Fraga gave the women canvasses to embroider using the plants and flowers in their gardens, which were devastated by the ensuing flood. His conception was that through their hands and their memories, this vegetation—some found only in their region and others coming from various other enclaves of the continent—would exist again in the garments. Brazilian critics have called Fraga’s work poetry, not fashion. However, Fraga in fact spins narratives and constructs not only collections but also mises-en-scène in which line, pattern, fabric, music, models, stage sets, cultural issues, and stories build a universe. Without romanticizing Brazil’s colonial past, Fraga finds a new form of pride and identity construction in his country’s cultural legacy. His garments set him apart from others not only for their notable quality but above all for their cultural content. His attire responds to a context, celebrating or critiquing situations, issues, and social and environmental policies.At the same time, it is elegant and unique, responding to a territory and a subjective vision that encompasses the universal. Figure 8.7 (next page, left)  Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2010 fashion show at Bienal Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Fernanda Calfat Studio/LatinContent via Getty Images. Figure 8.8 (next page, right)  Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2019 collection, São Paulo Fashion Week N45, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/GammaRapho via Getty Images.

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Another example of a designer who works with and takes inspiration from local traditions is Mexican designer Carmen Rión. She has spent more than twenty-five years collaborating with groups of Indigenous women in Oaxaca and Chiapas, creating fashion with a distinctive identity. In 2011, after realizing that the women of the highlands of Chiapas were portraying their own interpretations of the local landscape on their mochevales,16 Rión opted to give a workshop in which the design process would become conscious. She gave each woman a camera and asked them to take photos of the local landscape at different times of the day.Then the women were asked to choose an image to weave and embroider on the mocheval. This workshop led to a collaboration that resulted in a beautiful collection, an exhibition at the Franz Mayer Museum, and a brilliant runway show. From observing the customs and processes of the women of Chiapas, Rión was able to translate the design process, make it conscious for these women, and thus give them design tools to continue and even improve their work. Some experts see Rión as a representative of “ethnic fashion,” and this trend endures because, as Colombian designer and critic Reguina Parra Vorobiova stated, “the role of the ethnic trend is vital to the preservation of local cultural and ancestral heritage.”17 Rión constructs her garments through geometric patterns, largely based on Latin American Indigenous legacy techniques that use square and rectangular pieces of cloth as the basis for all garments.The elegance of Rión’s designs is anchored in the territory, landscape, and textile traditions. In creating unique garments, Rión involves her own hands as well as those of many Indigenous women, who add their own worldview to and reflect its meaning in fashion that is Mexican yet universal. The histories of fashion in different Latin American countries converge in places but also have major differences. Despite the similar processes of colonization which those nations experienced, the cultures, languages, practices, and customs—all of which make a contribution to local fashions—can prove to be diametrically opposed. Hailing from Colombia, Amelia Toro approaches design from a perspective different from Rión’s. Hers is one more focused on an international audience and reflects elements of belonging, elegance, and distinction.Trained at the Rhode Island School of Design and the Parsons School of Design in New York,Toro returned to Colombia’s fashion houses determined to create fashion for the world from Colombia. She started working with different communities that were home to men and women who became part of her workshops and understood both her quest for style and elegance and her handmade philosophy. She also started collaborations with the Guna tribe of Colombia, who create the Mola textiles18 she uses in her collections. Her coats need on average 20 to 25 Molas. Her collaborations with this Indigenous tribe and certain others in the territory are long-term and provide fair payment and recognition, thus obviating (and, in a way, fighting) exploitative cultural appropriation.

Figure 8.9 (left)  Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2019 collection, São Paulo Fashion Week N45, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images. Figure 8.10 (next page, left)  Runway Carmen Rion + Sna Maruch, Paisaje Mocheval collection, Museo Franz Mayer, México City. Photography Mauricio Castillo & Daniel Cruz Rión. Figure 8.11 (next page, right)  Runway Carmen Rion + Sna Maruch, Paisaje Mocheval collection, Museo Franz Mayer, México City. Photography Mauricio Castillo & Daniel Cruz Rión.

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Figure 8.12  Runway Carmen Rion + Sna Maruch, Paisaje Mocheval collection, Museo Franz Mayer, México City. Photography Mauricio Castillo & Daniel Cruz Rión.

Toro’s fluid and feminine silhouettes with puff-sleeve jackets bearing Mola textiles19 create a dialogue that reflects Colombia and its great cultural heritage and artisanal traditions. The elegance of Toro’s pieces resides in her combination of languages, techniques, and materials. She selects the finest materials and combines them in the best way, producing a unique repertoire of designs while she communicates style to a global audience. Her market is not limited to her shop in Bogota or to Colombia. Toro responds to the seasons on the international scene; she participates in fashion weeks and sells in the major capitals of the world. Her fashion communicates emphatically that it is made in Colombia, and she also holds to the idea that the country’s mestizo culture reflects a new national pride in local and ancestral traditions. Latin American elegance and distinction are cultural constructions that every so often are renovated and revitalized. Cultural agents, migrations, and political and social changes are fundamental factors for understanding their evolution and development. Today, it is no longer necessary to construct narratives and projects from the world’s great capitals which often result in derivative ideas; it is also possible to influence discourses that are current in the center from the periphery. A renewed pride in cultural heritage, territory, and locality goes hand in hand with an esthetic that finds elegance in becoming an essential part of the Latin American cultural transformation process.

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NOTES 1 Personal interview, Mexico City, May 13, 2008. 2 This is the period between the early 1500s and the 1820s (early sixteenth to early nineteenth centuries) when today’s Spanish-­ speaking Latin America countries were part of the Spanish Empire. 3 Francisco de Ajofrín cited by Evonne Levy and Kenneth Mills in Lexikon of the Hispanic Baroque:Transatlantic Exchange and Transformation (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2014), 11. 4 James Middleton, “Their Dress is Very Different: The Development of the Peruvian Pollera and the Genesis of the Andean Chola,” Journal of Dress History 2, no. 1 (2018): 87–105. 5 The book, originally published in French, was not translated into Spanish until 2003. My references come from Edmond Goblot, “La barrera y el nivel,” Revista de Occidente Moda el poder de las apariencias 366 (November 2011): 87–96. 6 Goblot, “La barrera y el nivel,” 90. 7 Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, trans. Richard Nice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1984). 8 Goblot, “La barrera y el nivel,” 92. 9 Ibid. 10 Thorstein Veblen, “El vestido como expresión de la cultura pecuniaria,” Revista de Occidente no. 366: Moda el poder de las apariencias, edited by Jorge Lozano (November 2011): 53. English quote from Thorstein Veblen, The Theory of the Leisure Class (Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 1994), 105. 11 George Yúdice, Jean Franco, and Juan Torres, eds., On the Edge: The Crisis of Contemporary Latin-American Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992), 31.

12 To see the 1992 spring collection, go to https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=PbglYzXJ5hg. 13 See Regina A. Root, “Mapping Latin American Fashion,” in The Handbook of Fashion Studies, ed. Sandy Black et al. (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 391–407. 14 “Ronaldo Fraga: ‘Pienso la moda como un encuentro entre la cultura y una postura política’,” https://www. infobae.com/america/cultura-america/2017/11/15/ ronaldo-fraga-pienso-la-moda-como-un-encuentro-­entre-lacultura-y-una-postura-politica/. 15 Ronaldo Fraga, quoted in https://carlosfelice.com.ar/ blog/2015/12/ronaldo-fraga-la-moda-es-politica/. 16 A mocheval is a characteristic garment of the traditional costume of Zinacantán, Chiapas. It is worn on the upper part of the body as a rebozo or shawl. The embroidery on every mocheval is distinctive by season, and each one reflects the individual touch of the person who elaborates it and/or uses it. 17 Reguina Parra Vorobiova, “Moda étnica: códigos ancestrales y propuestas contemporáneas,” at https://www.designisfels.net/ wp-content/uploads/2021/05/i32p123-132-Moda-­etnicacodigos-ancestrales-y-propuestas-contemporaneas.pdf, 131. Translation by the author. 18 Textiles produced by the Guna culture in the zone of Colombia and Panama. They are pieces that are composed of panels of different colors layered and sewn using the inverse appliqué technique that produces prominent relief effects. 19 Ibid.

Figure 8.13 (previous pages, right)  Amelia Toro attends the AID FOR AIDS 2014 My Hero Gala at Metropolitan Museum of Art, October 2014, New York City. Photograph by Chance Yeh/FilmMagic. Figure 8.14 (opposite)  A model walks the runway wearing Alicia by Amelia Toro during Colombiamoda 2010 at Plaza Mayor, July 2010, Medellin, Colombia.Victor Chavez/Contributor/WireImage.

Latin American Elegance: A Glimpse from the South  225

C A S E S T U DY: E S T E B A N CO R TÁ Z A R F L A M E N CO D R E S S

William Cruz Bermeo In August 2002 Julia Chaplin of the New York Times dedicated an entire piece to the enthusiastic response to the Colombian designer Esteban Cortázar’s debut at New York Fashion Week. “A NIGHT OUT WITH: Esteban Cortazar; At 18, Fashion’s Toast (But He Drinks Coke),” read the headline, which adopted the sobriquet that fashion critics had given to the young designer. He had earned the title of “Fashion’s Toast” because of his precocious talent. As the headline read, Cortázar was two years shy of twenty when he showcased his first collection in New York. However, the praise was not just a matter of age. The designer clearly understood what New York meant for his career. “You can make clothes for fun in Miami, but to do it as a business, you have to come to New York,”1 said Cortázar. Additionally, by then his personal style was already evident. “[H]e is ahead in one respect: His clothes display an uninhibited grasp of the female body,”2 observed fashion critic Cathy Horyn. Born in Bogotá and raised in Miami, Cortázar comes from a family of artists; his father is a painter and his mother a jazz singer. Although he has spent most of his career shuttling between the United States and Europe, Cortázar has never forgotten his Colombian roots. His work has often been read in terms of tropicalism, sensuality, and Latin vibes. His permanent links with Colombia through collaborations with local Colombian mass fashion brands have endured among his various projects outside of his namesake brand. As a way to continue exploring his Latin American heritage, these efforts also influence Cortázar’s collections for the global market with more experimental nuances, which are infused with the flair of his Latino identity. Cortázar’s design sensitivity reflects a “multi-inspirational vision,” according to Vogue,3 which allow him to draw

on the myriad cultural references that have shaped Latin American cultures. A case of point is a dress from his fall 2019 ready-to-wear collection, which is currently in the archives of The Museum at FIT. This is a classic wrap dress: long-sleeved, long-skirted, with a surplice V-neck and a sash-tie waist-wrap closure. The garment is made of stretch jersey, a 95 percent polyester and 5 percent spandex blend. Four asymmetrical panels compose the A-line skirt, with an almost 4-inch interlining at the hem. The interlining’s weight and structure help give an alluring movement to the skirt. The dress in the FIT archives is fuchsia colored, and the color, cut, and movement of the skirt immediately bring to mind a bullfighter’s cape or capote. This is even more evident in the official picture of the collection by Cortazar’s creative collaborator, Jaime Rubiano. There, two dresses, one fuchsia, like the one held at FIT, and another version of the same dress in mustard yellow, are styled as one. This doubling underlines their sinuous movements. Indeed, when asked about these references to bullfighter’s apparel, the designer agreed, “It is like a classic DFV wrap meets capote de torero [bullfighter’s cape] and a touch of bulería (a category of flamenco).”4 The same dress is illustrative of “Latina glamour,” according to Vogue’s Amy Verner.5 Her comment is interesting because it illustrates how the bright colors, liquid movements, and light fabrics that caress the body immediately crystallize the image of a Latino aesthetic in the imagination of non-Latinx observers. Nevertheless, the conceptual underpinnings of this dress were oriented to the exploration of a Spanish heritage, which to some extent has been incorporated into and authenticated6 by some cultures in Hispanic Latin American countries. Cortázar’s wrap dress is an exemplar of how fashion is produced in broadly transnational contexts nowadays.

Figure 8A.1  Esteban Cortázar, Flamenco dress, fall 2019. Photograph by Jaime Rubiano. Figure 8A.2 (next page, left)  Esteban Cortázar, Flamenco dress, fall 2019, Colombia. The Museum at FIT, Gift of   Tanya Meléndez-Escalante. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. Figure 8A.3 (next page, right)  Detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Case Study: Esteban Cortázar Flamenco Dress  227

Clothing is often designed, produced, put into circulation, discarded, or preserved in various different countries. The label in the back of the dress reads “Esteban Cortazar Paris,” while the instructional label in the right-back panel of the skirt reads “Made in Portugal.” Thus, this is an item of clothing whose intangible values are the Latino flair given to it by its creator and the chic charm traditionally attributed to the city where Cortázar designed the dress: Paris. At the same time, the dress itself was made in Portugal, a country long established as a dressmaking supplier for European global fashion brands, including both mass-produced items and those of more limited editions. This Cortázar wrap dress is a sample of a “Flamenco dress,” so dubbed by the brand. In reference to the brand’s

fall 2017 ready-to-wear collection, the fashion press drew attention to how Cortázar has been reworking pieces from his archive, even from his more recent designs. In this regard, he himself has raised the question, “[W]hy can’t older pieces come back reinvented and be shown in other ways?”7 Not surprisingly, the Flamenco dress has become a distinctive presence in Cortázar’s design grammar, generously reinterpreted both in his regular collections and in capsule collections for special projects. Finally, it is worth mentioning how Cortázar’s special projects have become a privileged place in which to reinforce his links to his native country, collaborating with other designers, artisans, and artists from Colombia. Thus, it can be truly said that Cortázar has succeeded in putting Latino spirit onto the radar of global fashion.

NOTES 1 Ginia Bellafante, “Front Row,” New York Times, August 20, 2002, Section A, 13. 2 Cathy Horyn, “Review/Fashion; Sass and Dash from Ralph Lauren and Miguel Adrover,” New York Times, September 24, 2002, Section B, 9. 3 Amy Verner, “Esteban Cortazar Fall 2019 Ready-to-wear,” Vogue Runway, https://acortar.link/saILu0. 4 Esteban Cortázar (Paris) in conversation with William Cruz Bermeo (New York), via WhatsApp, July 11, 2022.

5 Verner, “Esteban Cortazar Fall 2019.” 6 For a detailed definition of the concept of cultural authentication, see the chapter by Laura Beltrán-Rubio, “Indigenous Heritage in Latin American Fashion,” in this volume. 7 Amy Verner, “Esteban Cortazar Fall 2017 Ready-to-wear,” Vogue Runway, https://acortar.link/ADY8RF.

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9

Pop Cultural References in Twenty-first-Century Latinx Fashion Michelle McVicker

P

op culture is a source of inspiration for designers of Latin American heritage, and the fashion industry in general has referenced and appropriated aspects of pop culture from the Americas as well. The use of Latin American Catholic religious imagery and blackletter gothic script font are a few esthetic elements that have been adopted by international designers, as shown in Givenchy’s fall 2015 “Chola Victorian” collection, and Dolce and Gabbana’s “Virgin of Guadalupe” inspired 2018 Alta Moda collection. For many in the Latinx community in the United States, pop culture is a form of heritage that is intimately tied to music and fashion. Tex-Mex singer and icon Selena Quintanilla-Perez (1971–1995) was known not only for her cross-over success but also for her daring sartorial choices. As a fashion designer, her referential costumes and striking Latina image set a precedent by bridging her American and Mexican cultural identity, illustrating what scholar Deborah Paredez calls the “dynamic and dual-nature approach to

Figure 9.1  A model backstage at Willy Chavarria’s Men’s spring–summer 2022 CUT DEEP fashion show held in Astor Place Hairstylists in New York City, September 8, 2021. Photograph by Paul Morigi/Getty Images.

233

Figure 9.2  Pachucos Noe Vasquez (left) and Joe Vasquez (unrelated) photographed at the Los Angeles Police Department, after being attacked by a gang of sailors, who had slashed their clothing, during the Zoot Suit Riots on June 10, 1943. Photographer Anthony Potter Collection/Hulton Archive/Getty Images.

the processes of becoming Latina.”1 Most recently, Reggaeton artists like Puerto Rican Bad Bunny and Colombian singer J Balvin have become Latinx style icons of their own. Performing in English and Spanish, they are redefining the Latin music industry with their playful, experimental, and genderbending individual styles and high-profile designer collaborations. This chapter examines the rise of unique Latino/a fashion within the context of the United States, specifically analyzing the Los Angeles-based subcultures of Pachucos and Pachucas as well as cholos and cholas, and their influence on twenty-first century Latinx2 fashion and sneaker culture. This chapter will relate the esthetic longevity of the historical Latino/a subcultural styles of Pachucos and Pachucas, along with

Chapter 9  Pop Cultural References in Twenty-first-Century Latinx Fashion   234

cholos and cholas, to the work of two contemporary fashion designers who are explicitly inspired by them, Willy Chavarria and Víctor Barragán. Case studies that illustrate the Latinx communities’ relationship to sneaker culture will follow, including Nuyorican (a person of Puerto Rican descent that grew up in New York) stylist and creative director Mellány Sánchez, as well as Dominican-American artist Lucia Hierro. Both discuss the importance of footwear personalization in terms of their relationship to Nike and Adidas respectively. To understand the importance of Pachuco and Pachuca esthetics today, it is necessary to explain the origins of the style. In the 1940s, one of the most prevalent Latino/a styles that distinctly materialized and was practiced within the United States was the Pachuco and Pachuca. As a derivative of the Zoot suit that emerged in 1920s Harlem, in the early 1940s, Angelino (a native of Los Angeles) Mexican American working-class men would buy suits at local clothing shops and have them tailored to fit oversized.3 In an era of nationally enforced rationing, the excess of fabric required for the zoot suit subcultural style visually signified difference and defiance for marginalized ethnic communities in the United States during the Second World War.4 Over the years, various scholars have stated one of the difficulties of interpreting the zoot suit as a material artifact is that few exist today, specifically in museum collections, as many were intentionally torn, confiscated, and destroyed by authorities.5 During the Chicano movement of the 1960s, the zoot suit6 came back into the zeitgeist of pop culture and cemented its place as a rebellious manner of dressing. With the rise of the Chicano Rights Movement, Pachucos and Pachucas were no longer only associated with gangs and disobedience, but instead were embraced as an example of “ethnic assertion and Chicano power, with his dress, language, and music early strategies of resistance to discrimination, invisibility, and assimilation.”7

Cholos The most impactful subcultural Latino/a style that followed was that of the cholo and chola in the 1980s and 1990s. In a 2003 New York Times article, Rodrigo Salazar, the editor-in-chief of Urban Latino Magazine, described how adopting the provocative insignia of “low-slung chinos, bandannas folded low on the head and florid religious tattoos” was a way for some young Latinos to register pride and stake a claim on their own culture.8 Just like the zoot suit, dressing in a cholo or chola style was highly criminalized. This manner of dressing was associated with gangs, which at the time offered a sense of family, pride, identity, self-esteem, and belonging that members did not feel elsewhere in society. For both the Pachucos and Pachucas, as well as cholos and cholas, dress practices were a means of personal empowerment and a visual disobedience to the pressures of being an “ideal American citizen.” For women, the chola aesthetic followed in the steps of Pachucas, feminizing the cholo gangster look: thin eyebrows, thick black eyeliner, teased or feathered hair that was heavily gelled or hairsprayed in place.9 The style evolved from impoverished women sharing clothes with brothers or male family members.10 More than a manner of dressing, Tejana writer Barbara Calderón-Douglass describes cholas as “an identity forged out of a struggle to assert culture and history, a struggle that continues.”11 Many elements of the cholo and chola style have been disseminated into the pop cultural canon of contemporary streetwear.

Cholos  235

For their spring 2014 ready-to-wear Rodarte collection, Kate and Laura Mulleavy were inspired by the chola style of East Los Angeles.12 This wasn’t the first time the Mulleavy sisters tapped into their own Mexican heritage.13 The brand’s name Rodarte is the designer’s maternal grandfather’s last name, who was born in Zacatecas, Mexico, and immigrated to California.14 Despite featuring a variety of tight, cropped white undershirts, styled with open or completely buttoned-up Pendelton-esque plaid silk tops, Rodarte’s attempt at homage was rendered inauthentic, leading fashion editor Robin Givhan to declare the collection, “more like a manifestation of cultural tourism.”15 In her review, Givhan described a general consensus: “by removing an aesthetic that percolated on the street from its natural habitat […] the Mulleavys, in effect, left it open to misrepresentation and ridicule.”16 The resulting critiques of Rodarte’s high fashion attempt at capturing the chola esthetic demonstrate the highly localized and “the everyday” nature of chola signifiers and dress practices, best realized by those within the community. A brand that heavily self-references the chola aesthetic is Los Angeles Latina women’s lifestyle streetwear brand Bella Doña. Co-founded by LaLa Romero and Natalia Durazo in 2014, they are inspired by nostalgia for the “long acrylic nails, big ass gold hoops, and winged eyeliner” of their respective Chicano childhoods, adding, “We love our Homegirls.”17 In her dissertation, “Chola Work: A Genealogy of Homegirl Political Legacies of Resistance,” Dr. Veronica Sandoval describes “Homegirl epistemologies [which] gather, retrofit, and imagine from nontraditional histories and countersites where communities name themselves and tell their own stories in their own words.”18 In 2022, Bella Doña was chosen as the only women-owned brand as part of the National Football League’s Origins streetwear capsule honoring the city of Los Angeles. The self-referential element in their chola aesthetic was once again highlighted when the duo said the collection was full of symbolic LA fashion familiar to their loyal following.19 Today, New York City based fashion designer and Mexican national Víctor Barragán draws inspiration from Mexico City’s club kids and addresses toxic masculinity. Unapologetically playing with perceptions of gender, Barragán intentionally uses models that defy convention: “We try to offer our own version of fashion without being so glamorous.”20 As one of a handful of Latinx designers to be featured in the 2021 exhibition, In America: A Lexicon of American Fashion, at the Costume Institute, a coat from his spring–summer 2017 collection was on display in the second iteration. Titled with the word, “Conviction,” the label text proceeded to explain the definition as “A state of mind in which one is free of doubt.” A piece from his first collection, this trench coat covered in pockets along the back side represents how Barragán creates subversive basics (a term coined by trend forecaster Augustina Panzoni) that “rebel up to the point of losing their utility.”21 Unable to afford the clothing he desired to wear, Barragán began his career by silk-screening images using the name YtinifninfinitY. The irreverent, internet-inspired graphics played with corporate logos and pop culture images, redefining them through parody.22 Socially reflective dark humor has become a trademark of his collections. Even the creation of the brand’s logo involves humor and subversion. Having previously studied architecture in college, Barragán researched Lance Wyman’s work, who with architect Pedro Ramírez Vásquez designed the logo for the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. Struck by Wyman’s process, who also rearranged a Maya glyph after visiting Chichén Itzá, Barragán decided to reappropriate the logo of the Camino Real Hotel, noticing it had been created by someone from outside of Mexico.23 Embracing their status as one not of a luxury brand, Barragán’s

Figure 9.3  The Zoot Suit Riots of the summer of 1943 were explicitly referenced in Barragán’s fall–winter 2021 ready-to-wear collection with a pair of pants called “Corduroy Zoot Trousers,” described as “baggy pleated olive corduroy trousers with opening details on front and back to reveal a burgundy tartan plaid lining.” The trousers featured horizontal slits on the knees, mimicking the slashing of billowing pants and blazers worn by Pachucos. Photograph by Christelle de Castro/ Courtesy of BARRAGÁN.

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motivation was to insinuate how everything is “bootlegged, stolen, changed, reappropriated” in Mexico.24 In a similar manner, by referencing graphics used by big fashion houses, the brand’s logo often confuses people into thinking they are Fendi. A self-proclaimed provocateur, Barragán interrogates taboos about being Mexican American in the United States. In a feature for Purple Magazine as part of The Mexico Issue #36, interviewer Aleph Molinari states, “Barragan is pushing Mexican identities and iconography into the world, and the connection with New York is key.”25 Barragán launched his eponymous label in New York City in 2016 and was nominated for a Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA) award three years later. While he currently lives and presents collections for his label Barragán in New York, the designer has always incorporated his Mexican upbringing into his work. For his spring–summer 2018 campaign, he took a group of local models to his mother’s Mexico City neighborhood of Xochimilco. Project photographer and frequent collaborator June Canedo commented, “America has been changing for a long time and industries like fashion should reflect that change. We need more Central and South American voices!” Barragán agreed, highlighting both the freedom he is allowed in his creativity but the need for “a diversity in the subject matter.”26 When discussing his fall–winter 2021 collection, Barragán shared: There’s a big gap between the Mexican and American cultures, and within that is the Mexican-American culture. People who’ve been raised as Americans are all in this gap where we don’t understand each other as a country, and now we are all in a struggle against white supremacy. We all have a small vestige of trauma as Mexicans living in the US. We are all in this.27

Víctor Barragán’s fall–winter 2021 ready-to-wear collection featured horizontal slits on the knees and elbows of oversized fitted pants and jackets. The intentional slashing across knees and elbows mimics the destruction of billowing pants and blazers worn during the Zoot Suit Riots of the summer of 1943. Furthermore, the riots were referenced explicitly with a pair of pants called “Corduroy Zoot Trousers,” described as “baggy pleated olive corduroy trousers with opening details on front and back to reveal a burgundy tartan plaid lining.”28 With these details, Barragán is enacting the rebellious nature of Pachuco dress practices to his customers today. Another established Latinx designer receiving recognition in the luxury streetwear market is Willy Chavarria. With his self-proclaimed “Chicano couture,” Pachuco and cholo culture are at the heart of his collections to date. The preference for an oversized fit was repeated with the cholo aesthetic that emerged in LA in the 1970s.Voluminous zoot suit pants from the 1940s later influenced how some cholos would press their jeans and chinos with a crease that mimicked a pleat and evoked excessive fabric, which Chavarria recreated in his wide-legged flooded trousers from spring–summer 2022 “CUT DEEP.” When discussing the dress practices of cholos, Chavarria describes, “A pressed white T-shirt, oversized khaki chinos, a black belt, and shiny black shoes … I mean it doesn’t get any more chic than that.”29 Similar to cholos’ preoccupation with pressed chinos and maintaining spotless white sneakers, some zoot suit wearers refused to move on the dance floor in order to prevent wrinkles.30 Chavarria describes the situational importance of localized and uniquely Latinx dress practices that accompany Pachucos and Pachucas, cholos and cholas, and his current clients alike.

Figure 9.4  Models Nestor Peña, Erik Martinez, James Reyes, Juan Sanchez, Sneako, and Elias Priddie all wearing Willy Chavarria “CUT DEEP” spring–summer 2022 collection, photographed by Jorge Anaya for Mexican magazine Revista Estudio’s 1st edition. Photography and casting: Jorge Anaya. Art direction: Marco Castro. Stylist: Marcus Correa. Production: Dimitrios Poppis. Make-up: Mitch Yoshida. Assistant stylist:Veska Natamara.

Chapter 9  Pop Cultural References in Twenty-first-Century Latinx Fashion   238

Chavarria is continuingly interrogating what it means to be American, and who is societally allowed to claim the nationality.31 The “Falling Stars” sweater from his spring–summer 2019 collection prominently features an upside-down American flag with seven stars falling off and is one of three Willy Chavarria pieces featured in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s In America exhibition. The spring–summer 2019 collection was a collaboration with Danish sportwear company Hummel, that sponsored the global campaign SPREAD THE 5683, to support the lives and dignity of immigrants living in the United States.32 Other pieces featured commentary on immigration rights with embroidered phrases including “Authentic American” and “No Human Being is Illegal,” boldly proclaiming the wearer an American regardless of immigration status.33 In a piece for i-D Magazine on Chavarria’s fall–winter 2022 UNCUT collection, Bolivian fashion writer José Criales-Unzueta saw him at “his most unadulterated self, exploring the nuances of American dressing from an intersectional perspective that balances his queerness and Chicano upbringing.”34 The collection featured oversized polo shirts, T-shirts brandished with “USA,” a pair of  W-pocket jeans, and a sweatshirt bearing the words “SO HARD.” According to the designer, these references were a nod to Latinx obsessions with American brands such as American Eagle, True Religion, and Nike.35 In UNCUT, Chavarria’s main inspiration was how immigrants and first-, second-generation Latinx people in the US see American fashion brands as symbols of America itself.36 Aside from his commitment to hiring and uplifting models who communicate the “everyday,” Chavarria actively aims to reframe the idea of Latinx masculinity. In a Hypebeast interview on the influence of Chicano culture, Chavarria proclaims, “The uniform of the Chicano male was a clean, crisp style which mastered the reinterpretation of basic workwear into an elegant symbol of racial identity.”37 Similar to Barragán, Chavarria has become known for his selections of unconventional models. For his spring–summer 2022 CUT DEEP runway show, blue-collar workers, Chicano artists, and personal friends were all flown in from LA to New York to model.38 Renowned fashion critic Robin Givhan stated, “Work wear is Chavarria’s inspiration and his passion, he wants to elevate and celebrate what already exists. Not just the clothes, but the quietly heroic laborers, the many black and brown men, who wear them.”39 Not only is Chavarria participating in the reinvention of menswear, but he is also offering different depictions of masculinity and manhood.

Sneakers in Latinx Culture In a 2020 Complex piece titled, “I Finally Feel Seen: What It’s Like to Be Latinx in Streetwear Right Now,” author Maria Mora makes the statement, “Latinx leadership in streetwear is few and far between, but the landscape is changing.”40 An example of this

Figure 9.5  Creative director Marcus Correa collaborated with photographer Carlos Jaramillo on thirty portraits and thirty full body looks for Willy Chavarria’s CUT DEEP. To quote Chavarria’s February 2022 piece for Paper magazine on the project, it consisted of “a visual representation of the sheer collective strength and beauty of the Latinx force which permeates, color, gender, sexuality, body type, age and, of course, hair.” Photograph: Carlos Jaramillo.

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Figure 9.6  Mellány Sánchez posing with her Air Max 97 Silver Bullet Puerto Rico designed shoe in her installation, “Objects of Permanence,” at the Nike Soho store at 21 Mercer. Photograph by Jessica Foley. Courtesy of Mellány Sánchez.

is the career trajectory of Mellány Sánchez, Nuyorican fashion consultant and stylist. For Sánchez, the significance of streetwear within Latinx communities—specifically, sneakers—is prevalent. As part of a Council of Fashion Designers of America series celebrating Latinx in fashion during National Latin Heritage Month, Sánchez described to CFDA’s Aldo Araujo the importance of sneaker culture: “Sneakers have been a way for Black and Latin people to share our ideas and illuminate our differences, so for that I’m thankful to footwear. What an easy and accessible item to do that with, especially when your ways of expressing those things are limited.”41 Her first internship at the age of fifteen was at a women’s footwear store in Soho called Laces. Notably, Sánchez was then appointed the first female creative for retail and lifestyle brand KITH a few years later. She also worked in the Vogue archives as a Visual Editor. For their 50th anniversary celebration, Sánchez was invited by Nike to curate the Soho store with an installation titled Objects of Permanence: “For 15 years I’ve been in the footwear industry in some capacity and it’s a dream to talk about the style I grew up around. It’s an honor to have pieces of my history take space next to a rich celebration of the history of this brand, in a legendary room in Soho.”42 Sánchez’s styling work combines the visual references of early Nike ads with images of her family who migrated from Puerto Rico in the 1950s and have been in

Chapter 9  Pop Cultural References in Twenty-first-Century Latinx Fashion   242

New York for generations.43 Having grown up in Bushwick, Brooklyn, she often uses her own gold nameplate necklaces and chains to style models on photoshoots.44 In a Vogue piece from 2016, Sánchez described the role of 24 karat gold in her upbringing: “In my family, you wear jewelry from when you are very young. As a kid, you get earrings, bracelets, and rings.”45 For many people in the Latinx community, receiving and wearing gold jewelry is a rite of passage as well as a means of sartorially ascertaining personal identity from a young age. Three projects exemplify the ways in which Sánchez incorporates her heritage in her work with the global sneaker corporation Nike. In 2021, she was appointed the creative director for the Nike Air Max 97 “Puerto Rico” campaign, whose goal was to create an “elevated platform to celebrate Nuyorican permanence and excellence.” In order to reflect the Puerto Rican community’s resiliency and historically strong connection to New York City, the phrase “Aquí Me Quedo,” translated to “I’ll Stay Here,” is printed on the insole.46 This phrase is significant to the Nuyorican community because most are second- and third-generation Puerto Rican Americans whose family members arrived at the New York metropolitan area during the Great Migration of the 1950s and they decided to stay in New York instead of going back to Puerto Rico. Thus, New York became their new aquí, their new home. Ahead of the 2021 Puerto Rican Day parade which takes place annually in New York City, the Nike website described, “Just as Puerto Ricans across generations have made an indelible mark on global culture and history, this pair cements the diaspora’s contributions, embodying a message of excellence and permanence.”47 Each pair of shoes also came with a towel that said, “Puerto Rico, Te Quiero” (Puerto Rico, I love you), underlying the dual nature of being Nuyorican.48 In 2022, Nike also came out with “Puerto Rico” Air Force 1s, which featured a domino game perforation pattern and decorative dubraes with a mini domino on one side, and the island’s name on the other.49 Although dominos are popular and played throughout the Caribbean (mainly in Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, and Cuba), Nike specifically connects the game to the Puerto Rican diaspora. The pastel color palette of another Air Force 1 pair from the same collection specifically references the buildings and handpainted signs of San Juan and the Bodegas of New York City.50 Inspired by the massive turnout at the 2022 Puerto Rican Day parade in the Bushwick-Ridgewood border of Brooklyn, the first parade in three years due to the pandemic, Sánchez collaborated with Djali Brown-Cepeda of Nuevayorkinos, a digital archive documenting and preserving New York City Latin and Caribbean culture and history through family photographs and stories.51 Together, Sánchez and Brown-Cepeda created an online exhibition titled, “Aquí Me Quedo (2022),” just as the soles inside Sánchez’s 2021 Nike Air Max 97 “Puerto Rico” stated. This digital platform is described as “a momentum in the form of event, product, and storytelling that is driven by the best talents of New York City—in honor of the Puerto Rican community.”52 Another Nike design that has been personalized and embraced by the Latinx community is the Nike “Cortez” shoe. Designed as a running shoe in preparation for the 1968 Olympic Games set in Mexico City, Nike co-founders Bill Bowerman and Phil Knight originally planned on naming the style “The Aztec.” When they were informed that Adidas had already manufactured a shoe called “Azteca Gold” for a previous Olympics, Bowerman and Knight decided to go in a completely different direction. The following anecdote may be triggering. In Knight’s memoir, Shoe Dog, Knight retells a conversation

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Figure 9.7  In 2019, Angelino photographer Estevan Oriol created a short documentary with Nike to celebrate Cortez’s 45th-year anniversary and the global influence of LA’s Chicano fashion. Photograph © Estevan Oriol.

he had with Bowerman that led to the new name: “Who was that guy who kicked the sh*t out of the Aztecs?” he asked. “Cortez,” I said. He grunted. “Okay. Let’s call it the Cortez.”53 Unbeknownst to many wearers today, especially those in the Latinx community, the origin of Nike Cortez’s name is a direct reference to the Spanish invader Hernán Cortés. In journalist Sean Saldana’s NPR piece, “How a shoe named after a conquistador became a staple of Chicano streetwear,” Saldana considers the name choice as an “explicit call to the atrocities of colonization.”54 Despite the unfortunate origin story of the sneakers’ name, Latinx wearers have turned a shoe that was created from a demeaning narrative into an affirmation of ethnic pride. With a relatively affordable price, and a crisp and classic look, the “Cortez” became prevalently worn and associated with the city of Los Angeles. According to native Angelino and tattoo artist Mister Cartoon, “LA identified with the nose design of the shoe and it looked good with raw denim, khakis, and corduroy. No other shoe said LA like the Cortez did.”55 The Nike website states the “Cortez” was associated with

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“bad guys” in the past, an indirect reference not to colonizers but to its associations with Latinx gangs, given that in the 1980s and 1990s, the “Cortez” became an essential part of Chicano streetwear. The shoe was a fashion statement, but it was also a symbol of resilience—proof that somebody could come from dire circumstances and demand respect.56 In an act of resistance towards invisibility, the Latinx community’s styling has permanently helped cement the “Cortez” as one of the most iconic American sneaker styles of the twentieth century. Another creative of Latin American heritage who has collaborated with a footwear conglomerate is Dominican-American conceptual artist Lucia Hierro. Hierro is known for creating sculpture, digital media and installations manipulating familiar fabrics such as nylon, felt, and cotton bedsheets with screen prints referencing domestic intimacy. Growing up in a creative household, her mother would ask what she wanted to wear and Hierro sketched clothing designs her mother would later make for her.57 Hierro shared in a Vogue piece from 2018 that her grandmother came to New York from the Dominican Republic with the intention of working in the garment industry.58 After an initial resistance to learning how to sew, an accidental supply order of felt material convinced her to use the technique in her art: “At first, I didn’t want to work with fabric. I had this crazy thing with

Figure 9.8  Dominican-American conceptual artist Lucia Hierro poses next to her Adidas Platanos sneakers, designed as part of the 2019 Hispanic Heritage Month campaign. Hierro stands in front of her 2019-piece Rack: Platanitos, part of her Mercado series. The piece was acquired by El Museo del Barrio in New York City after being exhibited in “Estamos Bien: La Trienal 20/21,” the first national large-scale survey of Latinx contemporary art. Photo credit: Project Greenhouse.

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Figure 9.9  Greenhouse x Adidas AM4 sneakers, 2019, USA. The Museum at FIT. These sneakers were designed by DominicanAmerican artist Lucy Hierro for Hispanic Heritage Month. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

not engaging with the labor that brought my family here to the U.S.”59 Her relationship to fashion has been an integral part of the development of her creative practice. Her personal connection to fashion came to a head in 2019 when Hierro was selected as one of three Latinx artists, along with M. Tony Peralta and Bryan Avila aka The Producer BDB, to redesign the Adidas AM4 style. As part of a yearly Hispanic Heritage Month campaign, Foot Locker’s Greenhouse worked in collaboration with Adidas’s SPEEDFACTORY. Inspired by the artists’ diverse and vibrant heritage, these shoes were designed for the US market. They also featured Adidas’s SPEEDFACTORY 3D technology, whose mission is “moving at the speed of culture,” and were able to be produced in a shorter time span. Hierro’s “PLATANOS” sneakers feature a hyper-realistic collage of plantains, a Dominican food staple but also a common sight in the bodegas, one of Hierro’s main sources of inspiration.60 To vintage seller John Carlos De Luna, a lot of Latinx people want to connect to their history through clothing: “Inherently they’re connecting to an America that didn’t really accept them, an America that looked down on them.There’s such power in that—to own that history.”61 Younger generations of Chicanos are using an artistic sensibility to embrace their heritage in new ways. Both Víctor Barragán and Willy Chavarria have enacted the artistic sensibility of rasquachismo, their own mixture of Mexican and Anglo-American experiences, into everyday life.62 As we have seen with the reputation of Pachucos and Pachucas as well as that of cholos and cholas throughout fashion history, marginalized groups will develop expressive dress practices regardless of their economic or immigration status.TomásYbarra-Frausto’s text,“Rasquachismo:A Chicano Sensibility,” proposes a framework to address the Mexican American esthetic. For people of Latino/a heritage living in the United States, rasquachismo is not just making do, it’s making do “in spite of, and effectively through, the economic pressures of low wages and the political pressures of state repression.”63 This unapologetic presentation of a multicultural identity, boldly articulated through “activist” fashions, is why Barragán and Chavarria remain relevant.

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Inspired by the hybridity of their upbringing, ni de aqui ni de allá (which translates to “from neither here nor there”), a new set of visual codes is necessary to prevent certain modes of dressing, and their wearers, from being continuously politicized and criminalized. Latinx creatives have managed to design, collaborate, and style clothing that represents their multifaceted sartorial identities when the limitations of language and binary construction of identity have not been sufficient to represent and express themselves. A whole new set of visual codes and communicative tools for future Latinx are not only emerging, but here to stay. It is precisely this acceptance of self, embracing locally identifiable and working-class signifiers of status as well as their Latino/a upbringing, that has led to broader definitions of twenty-first-century Latinx fashion.

NOTES Deborah Paredez, Selenidad: Selena, Latinos, and the Performance of Memory (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2009) 12. 2 The word Latinx, when used by the author, is a gender-neutral term that describes individuals who have a dual Latin American and United States upbringing, whether through cultural practices or physical place, both foreign and native-born. This author builds upon Ed Morales’s description of Latinx as “describing the in-between space in which Latinx live, which allows us to cross racial boundaries more easily and construct identities, or self-images, that include a wide variety of racial, national, and even gender-based identifications.” This is particularly pertinent to this chapter because the use and application of the term is situational. 3 “The Zoot Suit: An All-American Fashion that Changed History,” Penn Today, April 7, 2011, https://penntoday.upenn. edu/2011-04-07/research/zoot-suit-all-american-fashionchanged-history. 4 Catherine S. Ramirez, “Saying ‘Nothin’: Pachucas and the Languages of Resistance,” Frontiers: A Journal of Women’s Studies 27, no. 3 (2006): 1–33, https://www.jstor.org/stable/i388134. 5 Kathy Peiss, Zoot Suit:The Enigmatic Career of an Extreme Style (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011), 186. 6 An “altered” Pachuca zoot suit was featured in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston 2019 exhibition “Gender Bending Fashion.” In the accompanying label text, curator Dr. Michelle Finamore explained the intention in altering this zoot suit was to acknowledge fashion trends that originated in marginalized communities that have been obscured or erased from history.   After searching for more than a decade for an authentic 1930s–40s-era zoot suit, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s (LACMA) costume and textiles Senior Curator and Department Head Sharon S. Takeda, and Assistant Curator, Clarissa M. Esguerra addressed the complex circumstances leading to the object’s scarcity: “Our quest proved extremely difficult due partly to WWII-era restrictions imposed by the War Production Board in March 1942 to reduce the amount of fabric used in

1

garment construction, thereby limiting the production of the voluminous zoot suit. Later, many examples may also have been remade into other garments, as zoot suits required much more fabric to create than a typical suit. And zoot suits simply may not have survived use.”   The historical importance and rarity of the zoot suit was made evident in 2011, at a New Jersey estate sale, when LACMA finally acquired a zoot suit dated circa 1940–1942 for US $78,000, setting a new auction record for twentieth-century menswear. The suit debuted five years later in the museum’s own exhibition, Reigning Men: Fashion in Menswear, 1715– 2015, and was then loaned to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in 2017 for the exhibition Items: Is Fashion Modern?, quickly demonstrating the zoot suit’s unwavering impact in twentieth-century fashion history and beyond. 7 Ed Morales, Latinx:The New Force in American Politics and Culture (London:Verso, 2018), 186. 8 Ruth La Ferla, “First Hip-Hop, Now Cholo Style,” New York Times, November 30, 2003. 9 Barbara Calderón-Douglass, “The Folk Feminist Struggle behind the Chola Fashion Trend,” Vice, April 13, 2015, https:// www.vice.com/en/article/wd4w99/the-history-of-thechola-456. 10 Calderón-Douglass, “The Folk Feminist Struggle.” 11 Ibid. 12 Nicole Phelps, “Rodarte Spring 2014 Ready-to-Wear,” Vogue Runway, September 9, 2013, https://www.vogue.com/ fashion-shows/spring-2014-ready-to-wear/rodarte#review. 13 The Mexican border town of Ciudad Juárez and the commutes of the maquiladora (make-up) factory workers inspired Rodarte’s fall 2010 ready-to-wear collection. 14 Teresa Rodriguez, “Rodarte,” Haute Living San Francisco, March 8, 2021, https://www.hautelivingsf.com/2021/03/08/rodarte/. 15 Robin Givhan, “‘Cultural Tourism’ as Seen at Rodarte,” The Cut, September 10, 2013, https://www.thecut.com/2013/09/ givhan-cultural-tourism-as-seen-at-rodarte.html. 16 Ibid.

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17 Bella Doña, “About,” https://bella-dona.com/pages/about. 18 Veronica Sandoval, “Chola Work: A Genealogy of Homegirl Political Legacies of Resistance,” Order No. 29065232, Washington State University, 2022. 19 Mike Destefano, “The NFL Leans into Streetwear with its Origins Collection Featuring Four LA-Based Designers,” Complex, February 7, 2022, https://www.complex.com/style/ nfl-origins-collection-circulate-bricks-and-wood-bella-dona-rip-n-repair-interview/. 20 Michael Bullock, “Victor Barragán,” Apartamento, May 17, 2021, https://www.apartamentomagazine.com/stories/ victor-Barragan/. 21 Olivia Cigliano, “What is the Subversive Basics Trend,” CR Book, July 22, 2021, https://crfashionbook.com/fashiona36958308-what-is-the-subversive-basics-trend/. 22 Bullock, “Victor Barragán.” 23 Aleph Molinari, “The Mexico Issue #36,” Purple Magazine (fall–winter 2021), https://purple.fr/magazine/the-mexico-­ issue-36-f-w-2021/victor-barragan/. 24 Molinari, “The Mexico Issue #36.” 25 Ibid. 26 Dominic Cadogan, “Designer Barragán Shoots Campaign on the Streets of Mexico,” DAZED, January 11, 2018, https:// www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/article/38593/1/designer-­ barragan-shoots-campaign-on-the-streets-of-mexico. 27 Molinari, “The Mexico Issue #36.” 28 Barragán, “Shop Corduroy Zoot Suit Trousers,” https://shop. barragannnn.com/products/open-knee-plaid-lined-corduroypants-color-olive. 29 Keith Estiler, “The Influence of Chicano Culture in Fashion as Told by Leading Latino Pioneers in the Industry,” Hypebeast, February 20, 2017, https://hypebeast.com/2017/2/chicano-­ influence-in-fashion. 30 Peiss, Zoot Suit, 48. 31 Carlos M. Chung, “Deep Cut: WILLY CHAVARRIA PV22,” Revista Estudio, https://www.revistaestudio.com/horizontes/ willy-Chavarria-pv22. 32 Hummel, “HUMMEL X WILLY CHAVARRIA,” https:// www.hummel.net/hummel-x-willy-chavarria/campaign-02. html. 33 Jake Silbert, “Willy Chavarria Saluted New York Heritage for SS19,” Hypebeast, July 10, 2018, https://hypebeast.com/2018/7/ willy-chavarria-spring-summer-2019. 34 Chung, “Deep Cut.” 35 Steff Yotka, “Willy Chavarria Fall 2022 Menswear,” Vogue, March 19, 2022, https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall2022-menswear/willy-chavarria#review. 36 José Criales-Unzueta, “Willy Chavarria Paints a Raw, Nuanced Landscape of Latinx Identity,” i-D Vice, March 28, 2022, https://i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/y3v45v/ willy-chavarria-aw22-lookbook. 37 Estiler, “The Influence of Chicano Culture.” 38 Chung, “Deep Cut.”

39 Robin Givhan, “‘To Show Them in a Kind of Glory’: How a High-End Designer Celebrates Working-men Chic,” Washington Post, August 20, 2018, https://www.washingtonpost.com/ lifestyle/style/to-show-them-in-a-kind-of-glory-how-a-highend-designer-celebrates-working-men-chic/2018/08/20/ 409ab49a-8acf-11e8-a345-a1bf7847b375_story.html. 40 Maria Mora, “I Finally Feel Seen: What It’s Like to Be Latinx in Streetwear Right Now,” Complex, October 15, 2020, https://www.complex.com/style/latinx-in-streetwear-rightnow. 41 Aldo Arujo, “Latinx and Proud,” CFDA, October 8, 2019, https://cfda.com/news/latinx-and-proud-mellany-sanchez. 42 Mellany Sánchez, “Objects of Permanence,” Instagram, June 24, 2022, https://www.instagram.com/p/CfMJvm8OXp8/?hl=en. 43 Chinea Rodriguez, “Mellany Sanchez on Shopping IRL and the Power of a Good Desk,” The Cut, August 3, 2022, https:// www.thecut.com/2022/08/mellany-sanchez-where-to-buy. html. 44 Liliana Satenstein, “Digging for Gold in Chinatown’s New Top, a Haven for Downtown It Girls,” Vogue, July 18, 2016, https:// www.vogue.com/article/best-chinatown-jewelry-­shoppingwith-mellany-sanchez. 45 Satenstein, “Digging for Gold.” 46 Nike News, “A Celebratory Air Max 97 for the Nuyorican Community,” Nike, https://news.nike.com/footwear/nike-airmax-97-puerto-rico-new-york-city-official-images-release-date. 47 Nike, “Puerto Rican Day,” Nike, https://www.nike.com/ launch/t/air-max-97-puerto-rican-day-12-03. 48 Angel Diaz, “Nike Does Puerto Rico Sneakers Again, But Did They Get It Right?,” Complex, June 15, 2021, https://www. complex.com/sneakers/nike-puerto-rico-sneakers-importance. 49 Nike, “Air Force 1 Puerto Rico,” https://www.nike.com/ launch/t/air-force-1-puerto-rico. 50 Nike, “Boricua Heritage is Front and Center in the 2022 Nike Puerto Rico Collection,” June 2, 2022, https://about.nike.com/ en/newsroom/releases/nike-puerto-rico-collection-2022-official-images-release-date. 51 Nuevayorkinos, “About,” https://www.nuevayorkinos.com/ about. 52 Nuevayorkinos, “Aqui Me Quedo (2022),” https://www. nuevayorkinos.com/aqui-me-quedo-2022. 53 Phil Knight, Shoe Dog: A Memoir by the Creator of Nike (New York: Scribner, 2016), 29. 54 Sean Saldana, “An Oral History of the Nike Cortez, 50 Years after Its Release,” NPR, February 15, 2022, https://www.npr. org/2022/02/15/1077040201/nike-cortez-50-anniversary-­ history-los-angeles#:~:text=So%. 55 Saldana, “An Oral History.” 56 Ibid. 57 Marley Marius, “In ‘Marginal Costs,’ Artist Lucia Hierro Mines the Space between Objects and Personal Histories,” Vogue, June 3, 2021, https://www.vogue.com/article/lucia-hierro-­marginalcosts-aldrich-contemporary-art-museum.

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58 Bridget Read, “In Detroit, Finding Art on the Shelf at Your Local Bodega,” Vogue, April 6, 2018, https://www.vogue.com/article/ lucia-hierro-red-bull-house-of-art-detroit-mercado-interview. 59 Marius, “In ‘Marginal Costs’.” 60 Chan-Lo, “Wish List: Lucia Hierro Designed a Sneaker Good Enough to Eat,” CNK Daily, October 11, 2019, https://www. cnkdaily.com/blog-1/2019/10/11/wish-list-lucia-hierro-designed-a-sneaker-good-enough-to-eat. 61 Abby Aguirre, “Latinas in Los Angeles,” Vogue, March 8, 2017, https://www.vogue.com/projects/13528517/

mexican-american-women-east-los-angeles-chicano-fashion-latina-style. 62 Maria Anderson, “A Lesson in ‘Rasquachismo’ Art: Chicano Aesthetics and the ‘Sensibilities of the Barrio’,” Smithsonian Sparks, January 31, 2017, https://www.si.edu/stories/lessonrasquachismo-art. 63 Tomás Ybarra-Frausto, “Rasquachismo: A Chicano Sensibility,” in Chicano Aesthetics: Rasquachismo, 5–8. Exh. cat. (Phoenix, AZ: MARS, Movimiento Artístico del Rio Salado, 1989), 6.

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C A S E S T U DY: E Q U I H UA D E VOT I O N CO AT

Elena Pérez-Ardá López Popular culture: (noun) Widely accessible and commonly shared aspects of culture (e.g., books, movies, TV shows) consumed by all classes (the masses), but typically associated with lower and middle classes.1

Popular, or low, culture is often contrasted with high culture, which serves the educated classes. However, popular culture often defines a country’s identity, transforming society. This case study will examine the permeability of two popular Mexican American symbols in Brenda Equihua’s Devotion coat: the San Marcos blanket and the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe. In 2018 Chicano designer Equihua launched statement coats in her New Classics collection.2 These coats resemble San Marcos blankets, which have been produced in Mexico since 1976.3 She explains, “I wanted to share that affection with the world, so I began with some of my favorite cobijas, and I cut and designed outerwear with them.”4 Equihua chose the term, cobija, meaning blanket but also referencing shelter, a feeling of calm, and well-being. The verb, cobijarse, means taking shelter in a safe space or at home. The boldly decorated San Marcos cobijas are Mexican family heirlooms of sorts, often draped over the couch in Chicanos’ childhood homes. “It’s … loud … but in a Latino house, it’s sort of neutral—part of the environment,” says Equihua.5 Fashion journalist Marta D. Riezu has stated, “Nothing equals the pleasure of the weight of an inherited blanket—the weight of the family tree—on the sleepy body.”6 Made from 100 percent polyester, Equihua’s Devotion coat has a straight silhouette, a slightly oversized fit with a hood, and an appearance of warmth. On the front over the chest, two large roses provide decorative floral motifs. On the back is an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe. The youthful attitude and ties to popular culture that this brand projects is reflected in the relaxed description of the zipper: “[The] [m]etal zipper does not finish … at the bottom of the coat … We don’t want you to struggle

reaching all the way down there + limit your stride … In other words, we don’t wanna cramp your style!”7 Fashion editorials showing Equihua’s clothes often feature settings such as bodegas or parking lots; models exude a cool demeanor. Despite the potential to associate the brand with streetwear, Equihua refuses to label her brand as only streetwear, preferring the freedom to create whatever she likes.8 In the Devotion coat Equihua reproduces a well-known image that immediately resonates with Mexican culture, the Virgin of Guadalupe. The Virgin is an aesthetic icon, not only a religious motif but also a sign of ethnic pride. Equihua explains her cultural references and inclusion of the rose pattern: “With the saints, you always bring them flowers as a way to honor them.”9 The roses that appear on the sleeves resemble Georgia O’Keefe’s subversive florals. For Equihua, the cobija serves as a soulful celebration of her heritage. Remembering grappling with her identity while studying at Parsons, she learned to reclaim the roots that set her apart from others, saying, “I realized how powerful, how unique and beautiful the world I came from was.”10 Born three days after her mother crossed from Mexico into the United States, she integrated the concepts of travel, home, and shelter into her identity. The Devotion coat resonates with meanings that reach from her personal story into pop culture. She has explained, “[R]econtextualizing the San Marcos blankets arose from my desire to translate the emotions of the blankets into our clothes and thus create an emotional connection.”11 She positions the blankets with a transgressive attitude. This transitioning into the public sphere is reinforced by how contemporary musicians have embraced Equihua’s work. The Puerto Rican trap reggaeton musician Bad Bunny wore the Devotion coat in his video clip, “Cuidao por ahi.” Music is a powerful component of popular culture, tied to everyday experiences, and two

Figure 9A.1  Brenda Equihua, Devotion coat, 2018 New Classics collection, USA. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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Figure 9A.3  Pilgrim kid with the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe on his back walks on the highway Puebla– Mexico City on his way to la Basilica de Guadalupe. Photograph by Emilio Espejel/Getty Images.

pop songs share themes that connect with those of the coat. These songs contain the same values intrinsic to the garment. With “Pa’l Norte,” Puerto Rican hip-hop band Calle 13 addresses looking for a better future while being separated from your loved ones. The band explicitly reference the Virgin of Guadalupe as a symbol of protection, helping devotees through difficulties. So that the guards don’t see me and the dogs don’t smell me … grandma don’t worry because the Virgin of Guadalupe hangs around my neck …12

Similar to the Equihua coat, the Virgin provides comfort and protection. Throughout Latin American history the Virgin has represented mother, the caretaker for all Mexicans. Like a mother, she embraces newborn children in a protective blanket. Spanish pop singer Rigoberta

­ andini’s “Ay Mama”13 explores mother-love, an influenB tial song and a hymn honoring mothers: You who could end so many wars. Listen to me. For so many ma-ma-ma-ma, (mums) for all ma-mama-ma/ (for all the mums)

For Equihua, the mother figure is part of the meaning of the Devotion coat: “It’s warm, it’s cozy and … to me it feels like a mother’s love.”14 The Devotion coat expresses family tradition as a form of support. Referencing pop culture, Equihua’s blanket points to her ancestors’ homes and shows up on the street. It claims the great power of fashion to evoke memories and open paths for the young who value and honor their origins, while representing shelter, home, and the proud retrieval of a personal identity.

NOTES 1 Kenton Bell, ed., Open Education Sociology Dictionary (2013), https://sociologydictionary.org/popularculture/. 2 “EQUIHUA’s ‘New Classics’ Collection Honors Mexican American Culture. Intricate outerwear pieces made from timeless household blankets,” https://hypebeast. com/2018/1/equihua-new-classics-collection.

3 “Conoce Equihua, la marca celebrando su identidad a través de típicas cobijas,” I-D Latam, October 3, 2019, https://i-d.vice.com/es_mx/article/9ken7a/equihuaentrevista-marca. 4 “Equihua,” Not just a label blog, ​​https://www. notjustalabel.com/equihua.

Figure 9A.2  Back. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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5 Monica Kim, “These Graphic Blanket Coats, Made from San Marcos Cobijas, Celebrate Latino Culture,” Vogue, March 15, 2018, https://www.vogue.com/article/equihuasan-marcos-cobijas-blanket-coats. 6 Marta D. Riezu, Agua y jabón, Apuntes sobre elegancia involuntaria (Barcelona: Anagrama, 2022), 98. 7 Equihua website, Devotion Cobija coat description, https://equihua.us/collections/new-classics/products/ devotion-hoodie-coat. 8 Kali Hays, “Fashion: The Homogenization of Streetwear at ComplexCon: While some brands don’t like the ‘streetwear’ label, others are just trying to reckon with now being the mainstream,” Women’s Wear Daily, November 5, 2019, https://www. proquest.com/magazines/fashion-homogenization-

streetwear-at-complexcon/docview/2438026071/ se-2?accountid=27253, 4. 9 Kim, “These Graphic Blanket Coats.” 10 Ibid. 11 “Conoce Equihua, la marca celebrando su identidad a través de típicas cobijas,” I-D Latam, October 3, 2019, https://i-d.vice.com/es_mx/article/9ken7a/equihuaentrevista-marca. 12 Calle 13, “Pa’l Norte,” Guest Artist: Orishas, from album, Residente o visitante (2007). 13 Rigoberta Bandini, “Ay Mamá!” (2021). 14 Dane Rivera, “Equihua Brings an Unapologetically Latinx Look to the Streetwear Space,” Uproxx Magazine, February 13, 2020, https://uproxx.com/style/equihuainterview/.

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IMAGE LIST 1.1 Dress and coat by Cuban American designer Isabel Toledo worn by Michelle Obama to inaugural festivities, 2009. Photograph by Ron Sachs-Pool/Getty Images.

1.6 Elena Velez spring-summer 2022 fashion presentation during New York Fashion Week. Photograph by Jason Mendez/Getty Images.

1.2 Proenza Schouler, spring–summer 2017 ready-to-wear collection. Cuban American designer Lazaro Hernandez co-helms the fashion label Proenza Schouler with Jack McCollough. Photograph by Peter White/ Getty Images.

1.7 Model walks on the runway at the Monse fashion show during spring–summer 2021. Fashion Week in New York on September 9, 2020. Photograph by Jonas Gustavsson/Sipa USA/Alamy Live News. 1.8 Chilean designer María Cornejo in a photo shoot for i-D magazine at 225 Mott Street, with installation by Jordan Tinker of teddy bear sculptures encased in plaster, 1999. Photograph by Johnny Giunta/Courtesy of Zero + Maria Cornejo.

1.3 Models present creations by Colombian designer Kika Vargas during the Colombiamoda fashion event in Medellin, Colombia, 2015. REUTERS/Fredy Builes. 1.4 Installation image from The Museum at FIT exhibition Global Fashion Capitals. Left: Carla Fernández, Adelita pantsuit, Charros collection, fall 2009. Right: Ricardo Seco, ensemble, Dreams collection, spring– summer 2015. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

1.9 Haider Ackermann fall–winter 2017/2018. Photograph by Peter White/Getty Images. 1.10 A model walks the runway during the Johanna Ortiz fashion presentation for Colombiamoda 2016 at Biblioteca Publica Belen Medellín, July 2016, Medellin, Colombia. Photograph by Oscar Garces/ LatinContent via Getty Images.

1.5 Opening Ceremony, ensemble, spring 2014, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Opening Ceremony. Humberto Leon co-helms the label Opening Ceremony with Carol Lim. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

1.11 Armando Takeda, fall–winter 2021 collection. ARMANDO TAKEDA.

255

2.1 Oscar de la Renta, spring–summer 1993, ready-to-wear collection. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images. 2.2 Vivienne Westwood, ensemble, Buffalo Girls collection, 1982–1983, England. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 2.3 Jean Paul Gaultier, spring–summer 2008 ready-to-wear. Model wearing a Colombian sombrero vueltiao, styled as a pirate bicorn hat. Paris, 2007. Photograph by Toni Anne Barson Archive/WireImage. 2.4 Inhabitants of Cuzco at the Plaza de Armas wearing their traditional clothes. Peru, 1945. They represent the nature of the local inhabitants photographed both by Irving Penn in 1948 and by Martin Chambi during his career. © Hulton-Deutsch/HultonDeutsch Collection/Corbis via Getty Images.

2.10 Orange woven silk crepe turban. By Adolfo for Emme, 1958. USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Helen Ziegler. In his first stage as milliner, the color richness and dramatic shapes suggest his Latin roots. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 2.11 Adolfo three-piece suit, wool bouclé knit, silk, 1972, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Adolfo. By following the lead of Chanel, Adolfo explained that he was creating “a feeling of Chanel, an illusion of her.” Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 2.12 The Oscar de la Renta aesthetic is reminiscent of the carnivalesque, pointing at a transitory liberation that overcomes rules and structures. Ready-to-Wear, A/F 1991/1992. Paris. Photograph by Daniel SIMON/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images.

2.6 “El Dorado.” Photograph by Mario Testino. Vogue, September 2012. ©Mario Testino.

2.13 Carolina Herrera, evening gown, fall 1981, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Carolina Herrera, Ltd. Carolina Herrera debut collection featured simple shapes with extravagant details. According to Vogue, “dresses with dramatic sleeves truly sum up Carolina’s style.” Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

2.7 Argentinian designer Pablo Ramírez runway during Latin America Fashion at Colombiamoda 2009. Medellin, Colombia. Photograph by José Luis Ruiz.

2A.1 Grenelle-Estevez, rose printed evening set, 1957, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Sylvia Levine. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

2.8 Alexandre Herchcovitch, beaded jumpsuit, spring 2007, Brazil. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Alexandre Herchcovitch.

2A.2 Mrs. Augustus G. Paine II at the house of her father, Earl E. T. Smith, wearing an evening dress by Luis Estevez, Palm Beach, Florida, USA. Photograph by Slim Aarons/Getty Images.

2.9 Luis Estévez, evening dress, circa 1955. Mrs. Augustus G. Paine II at the house of her father, Earl E. T. Smith, wearing an evening dress by Luis Estévez, Palm Beach, Florida, USA. Photograph by Slim Aarons/Getty Images.

2A.3 Back view of evening set by GrenelleEstévez, rose printed evening set, 1957, USA. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Sylvia Levine. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

2.5 “El Dorado,” Photograph by Mario Testino. Vogue, September 2012. ©Mario Testino.

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3.1 Miniature tunic by unidentified Wari artist, 500–800 ce. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Alastair B. Martin, the Guennol Collection, 71.180. Creative Commons-BY. 3.2  Mochila by Arhuaca de Corazón. © Laura Beltrán-Rubio 2021 by Wonder for People. 3.3 “Wale Keru” espadrilles by Karen Walaala for Agua e lulo. Photography by Succo Studio, 2019. Reproduced with permission of Agua e lulo. 3.4 The Warrior: costume designed by Annaiss Yucra for Renata Flores’s “Chañan Cori Coca” music video. Reproduced with permission of Annaiss Yucra and Renata Flores Rivera. 3.5 The Futuristic Star: costume designed by Annaiss Yucra for Renata Flores’s “Chañan Cori Coca” music video. Reproduced with permission of Annaiss Yucra and Renata Flores Rivera. 3.6 The Princess: costume designed by Annaiss Yucra for Renata Flores’s “Chañan Cori Coca” music video. Reproduced with permission of Annaiss Yucra and Renata Flores Rivera. 3A.1 1/8 Takamura x Artesanía Textil Arte-Fer, Cuadro Tlahui blouse, 2020, Mexico. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 3A.2 Aerial view. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 3A.3 Embroidery detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 3A.4 Embroidery detail. Cuadro Tlahui blouse. Guillermo Vargas Ayluardo, Artistic Director and Founder of 1/8 Takamura; Paula Pérez

Vázquez, Artisan and Textile Artist; Paulina Chávez, Photographer; Jessica Arroniz Tenorio, Brand Manager 1/8 Takamura. 4.1 S ánchez-Kane performance and installation Macho Sentimental Vol. II at Palais de Tokyo, Paris, 2019. Courtesy of Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Creative direction: Bárbara Sánchez-Kane; Performers: Morena Valdés, Pepe Romero, Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Photograph: Paola Vivas. 4.2 R  uben Toledo, Hermaphrodite dress, 1998. The Museum at FIT. © The Museum at FIT. 4.3 Isabel Toledo, Hermaphrodite evening dress, spring 1998, USA. The Museum at FIT. © The Museum at FIT. 4.4 Julia y Renata, Mariana Munguia wedding ensemble 2004. As displayed at the exhibition “Julia y Renata: Moda y Transformación” at the Museo de Arte de Zapopan, November 2020–February 2021. Courtesy of Museo de Arte de Zapopan (MAZ). Photograph by Itzel Hernández. 4.5 Portrait of Cindy Sherman with pet bird, photographed for the 15th-anniversary collection, April 20, 2015, at 2 pm. Sherman is wearing the Zero + María Cornejo opposite dress. Photograph by Mark Borthwick. Courtesy Zero + Maria Cornejo. 4.6 A set of wool garments that alternatively became the bedding for Luis Barragán’s white bedroom. Carla Fernández for The Air is Blue, Casa Museo Luis Barragán, 2002– 2003. Photograph by Diego Pérez. Model: Tatiana de León. 4.7 Narciso Rodríguez, evening dress, spring 2011, USA. Gift of Mr. Narciso Rodriguez. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Image List  257

4.8 Rodarte, ensemble, fall 2009, USA. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

4A.2 Rick Owens, Sandra dress, fall 2020, France. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

4.9 Gordon Matta-Clark, Conical Intersect, 1975. © 2022 Estate of Gordon Matta-Clark/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York Canadian Centre for Architecture Gift of Estate of Gordon Matta-Clark © Estate of Gordon Matta-Clark/SODRAC.

4A.3 Rick Owens, Tecuatl ensemble, fall 2020, France. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

4.10 Francisco Costa for Calvin Klein Collection, spring 2009 Ready-to-wear, Look 1. Photograph by Randy Brooke/Contributor/ Getty Images.

5.2 Images highlighting the brand’s values featured on Escvdo’s Instagram account (@escvdo) and other media outlets. Photographs courtesy of Escvdo.

4.11 David Hoyle performs during the “Rick Owens’ Carte Blanche” at Centre Pompidou on October 17, 2019 in Paris, France. Photograph by Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/ Getty Images.

5.3 A  rtisan sisters of Tito Yupanqui in Lake Titicaca hand-cleaning and combing alpaca hair for dyeing with coca leaves. March 2022. Photograph courtesy of Juan Carlos Pereira Paz.

4.12 Mother Rheeda performs during the “Rick Owens’ Carte Blanche” at Centre Pompidou on October 17, 2019 in Paris, France. Photograph by Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/ Getty Images.

5.4 C  arla Fernández, Chamula coat and skirt, made in collaboration with artisans from San Juan Chamula, Chiapas, Mexico. Photograph by Ramiro Chaves, courtesy of Carla Fernández.

4.13 PTRA, 004 Collection Look 3. Photograph Victor Trani, courtesy PTRA.

5.5 Juan de La Paz, dress and skirt with macramé and silk fringe. Photographed by Eddie Wrey for British Vogue, December 2021. Photograph © Eddie Wrey.

4.14 Barragán, spring–summer 2017. MADE Fashion Week, New York. Photograph by Slaven Vlasic/Getty Images. 4.15 Sánchez-Kane, “Sanchezkaneismo” at Kurimanzutto gallery in Mexico City, 2002. Courtesy of Bárbara SánchezKane. Photograph: Dorian Ulises López. Production: Momoroom. Styling: Chino Castilla. Models: Maria Raquel Cervini, Luisa Rodriguez Jimenez, Rúben Berroeta. 4A.1 Rick Owens, spring–summer 2020 Tecuatl collection, Look 35. Photograph by Peter White/Getty Images.

5.1 E scvdo, TSUMA dress, fall–winter 2020. Photograph by Alexander Neumann.

5.6 Designer Juan Pereira Paz from Juan de La Paz dyeing with coca leaves with Aymara artisan Yola Mamani, President of Arte Warmi Association in Tito Yupanqui Community, Lake Titicaca, March 2022. Photograph courtesy of Juan Carlos Pereira Paz. 5.7 MANTO, Kalpa coat, made from native organic wool sheared, spun, and woven by hand in Pueblo San Isidro, with buttons made from recycled rubber. Courtesy of MANTO. www.manto.com.ar

Image List  258

5.8 For Gabriela Hearst’s spring–summer 2022 collection, luxurious knits were created by Manos del Uruguay and the Bolivian collective Madres & Artesanas Tex. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/GammaRapho via Getty Images. 5.9 Fashion Show Sinergia by FLAVIA AMADEU + COMAS. Event: Brazil Eco Fashion Week 2020. Photograph: Agência Fotosite. 5.10 Flavia Amadeu working with women in the community of Curralinho, Acre. Photograph by ​David Parry. 5.11 Rubber tapper collecting the sap (latex) from a wild rubber tree. Photograph by ​ David Parry.

factory in Santiago, Chile. Used clothes are sorted, serially processed into texturized bales, and spun into ecologic yarns. October 2021. Photograph by MARTIN BERNETTI/AFP via Getty Images. 5.18 Munay Sisters, Alma trench coat and coordinating ensemble, Nature-Elemental Connection, 2022. This look was made entirely from deadstock fabrics produced in Chile. Photograph: Benjamin Salazar. Make up and hair: Julio Olguín. Styling: Felisa Mendez. Model: Clara Lyon. Agency: We Love Models Chile. 5.19 Looks made from Zero + Maria Cornejo’s specialized Eco drape fabric. Zero + Maria Cornejo, spring–summer 2017 collection. Photograph courtesy of Zero + Maria Cornejo.

5.12 Armando Takeda, suit made from Desserto®, a cactus leather-alternative. Fall–winter 2021 collection. ARMANDO TAKEDA.

5.20 Jonathan Cohen, fall–winter 2020-2021 collection. Victor VIRGILE/Contributor.

5.13 Nous Etudions, seven-piece capsule collection for Nike presented during the 080 Barcelona Fashion Week, 2019. LLUIS GENE/ AFP via Getty Images.

5A.1 Zero + Maria Cornejo, set, top and pants made from upcycled Zero + Maria Cornejo fabrics and upcycled Hyundai car seat leather, 2019, USA. Gift of Hyundai Motor Company. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

5.14 Osklen’s Amazon Guardians sneaker. Photograph courtesy of Osklen. Courtesy Osklen. 5.15 Osklen, ensemble with top made from Pirarucu leather, fall–winter 2018, São Paulo Fashion Week, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images. 5.16 Used clothes discarded in the Atacama Desert, in Alto Hospicio, Iquique, Chile. Photograph by MARTIN BERNETTI/AFP via Getty Images. 5.17 Set of four images showing how discarded clothes are made into yarns at the Ecocitex

5A.2 The complete 15-look capsule collection designed by Maria Cornejo in collaboration with Hyundai for Hyundai’s Re:Style event, 2019. Photo credit: Hyundai Motor Company. 5A.3 Pocket detail on waistcoat. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 5A.4 Closure detail on waistcoat. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 5A.5 Process image: Maria Cornejo working on the capsule collection. Photo credit: Hyundai Motor Company.

Image List  259

6.1 Models on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernandez Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images. 6.2 The Brazilian visual artist Sallisa Rosa wearing Nalimo. Photograph courtesy of Gustavo Paixão, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2021. 6.3 The Brazilian fashion model Ywyzar Guajajara wearing Nalimo. Photograph courtesy of Gustavo Paixão, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2021. 6.4 The Brazilian fashion model Zaya wearing Nalimo. Photo courtesy of Gustavo Paixão, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2021. 6.5 A model on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernández Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images. 6.6 A model on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernández Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images. 6.7 A model on the catwalk during the Fashion In Motion: Carla Fernández Catwalk Show at the Victoria and Albert Museum on October 19, 2018, in London. Photograph by Joe Maher/Getty Images. 6.8 Elsa Armida Claveran (in front) wearing Equihua (@equihua_official) by Rigo Bonilla, 2018, at La Placita Olvera in Los Angeles. 6.9 Lord Nalige (@lordnalige) wearing Equihua (@equihua_official). Photograph courtesy of Sean Maung (@olskoolsean) and Brenda Equihua, Los Angeles, 2018.

6.10 From left to right: Josan, Luna Lovebad, Destiny Hash, Pher Turner, Annette wearing Equihua (@equihua_official). Photograph courtesy of Nichelle Dailey (@nichelledailey) and Brenda Equihua. “Equihua Spring 2021 Capsule Collection,” Los Angeles, 2021. 6A.1 Mujeres listas para recibir a Rabago. Horne, Walter H. 1911. Library of Congress. 6A.2 Carla Fernández, Adelita pantsuit, fall 2009, Charro collection, Mexico. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Carla Fernández/Taller Flora. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 6A.3 Detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 6A.4 Women revolutionists (Mexican revolution, group of women and children wearing cartridge belts and pointing rifles). c. 1911. Library of Congress. 7.1 Sánchez-Kane spring–summer 2018 collection Men without Fear. Courtesy of Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Photograph: Dorian Ulises Lopez. Production: In the Park Productions. Styling: Chino Castilla. Models: Macial and Andres Navarro. 7.2 Willy Chavarria. Cut Deep collection, spring– summer 2022. Photograph by Cindy Ord/ Getty Images. 7.3 Luar spring–summer 2022 collection, Teteo Basico. Photograph: Danny Lim for LUAR. 7.4 Barragán spring–summer 2018 collection. Photograph by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images for NYFW: The Shows. 7.5 Mateo Velásquez. Leather Boys II, fall– winter 2021 collection. Photograph: Mateo Velásquez AW 21 Show.

Image List  260

7A.1 The Mamado pantsuit as featured in “Amantes Encontrados” for Vogue Italia. Courtesy of Bárbara Sánchez-Kane. Photograph: Paola Vivas. Styling: Chino Castilla. Models: Emiliano and Samuel for GUERXS AGENCY MX. 7A.2 Sánchez-Kane, Mamado pantsuit, fall 2019, Las Puertas al Sentimentalismo collection, Mexico. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

8.7 Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2019 collection, São Paulo Fashion Week N45, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/ Gamma- Rapho via Getty Images. 8.8 Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2019 collection, São Paulo Fashion Week N45, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/ Gamma- Rapho via Getty Images.

7A.3 Detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

8.9 Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2019 collection, São Paulo Fashion Week N45, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Victor VIRGILE/ Gamma- Rapho via Getty Images.

8.1  Portrait of a Young Woman, attributed to Pedro José Díaz, 1795–1810. Lima, Peru. Oil on canvas. Davis Museum at Wellesley College, Wellesley, MA.

8.10 Runway Carmen Rion + Sna Maruch, Paisaje Mocheval collection, Museo Franz Mayer, México City. Photographer Mauricio Castillo & Daniel Cruz Rión.

8.2  Rendering of a Mulatta (Diceño de Mulata), attributed to Manuel de Arellano, 1711. Collection of Frederick and Jan Mayer on loan to the Denver Art Museum. Photograph courtesy of the Denver Art Museum.

8.11 Runway Carmen Rion + Sna Maruch, Paisaje Mocheval collection, Museo Franz Mayer, México City. Photographer Mauricio Castillo & Daniel Cruz Rión.

8.3 Oscar de la Renta, spring–summer 1992, ready-to-wear collection. Photograph by Daniel SIMON/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images. 8.4 Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2010 fashion show at Bienal Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Fernanda Calfat Studio/LatinContent via Getty Images. 8.5 Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2010 fashion show at Bienal Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Fernanda Calfat Studio/LatinContent via Getty Images. 8.6 Ronaldo Fraga, spring–summer 2010 fashion show at Bienal Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo, Brazil. Photograph by Fernanda Calfat Studio/LatinContent via Getty Images.

8.12 Runway Carmen Rion + Sna Maruch, Paisaje Mocheval collection, Museo Franz Mayer, México City. Photographer Mauricio Castillo & Daniel Cruz Rión. 8.13 Amelia Toro attends the AID FOR AIDS 2014 My Hero Gala at Metropolitan Museum of Art, October 2014, New York City. Photograph by Chance Yeh/FilmMagic. 8.14 A model walks the runway wearing Alicia by Amelia Toro during Colombiamoda 2010 at Plaza Mayor, July 2010, Medellin, Colombia. Victor Chavez/Contributor/WireImage. 8A.1 Esteban Cortázar, Flamenco dress, fall 2019. Photograph by Jaime Rubiano. 8A.2 Esteban Cortázar, Flamenco dress, fall 2019, Colombia. The Museum at FIT, Gift of Tanya

Image List  261

Meléndez-Escalante. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 8A.3 Detail. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT. 9.1 A model backstage at Willy Chavarria’s Men’s spring–summer 2022 CUT DEEP fashion show held in Astor Place Hairstylists in New York City, September 8, 2021. Photograph by Paul Morigi/Getty Images. 9.2 Pachucos Noe Vasquez (left) and Joe Vasquez (unrelated) photographed at the Los Angeles Police Department, after being attacked by a gang of sailors, who had slashed their clothing, during the Zoot Suit Riots on June 10, 1943. Photographer Anthony Potter Collection/Hulton Archive/ Getty Images. 9.3 The Zoot Suit Riots of the summer of 1943 were explicitly referenced in Barragán’s fall–winter 2021 ready-to-wear collection with a pair of pants called “Corduroy Zoot Trousers,” described as “baggy pleated olive corduroy trousers with opening details on front and back to reveal a burgundy tartan plaid lining.” The trousers featured horizontal slits on the knees, mimicking the slashing of billowing pants and blazers worn by Pachucos. Photograph by Christelle de Castro/Courtesy of BARRAGÁN. 9.4 Models Nestor Peña, Erik Martinez, James Reyes, Juan Sanchez, Sneako, and Elias Priddie all wearing Willy Chavarria “CUT DEEP” spring–summer 2022 collection, photographed by Jorge Anaya for Mexican magazine Revista Estudio’s 1st edition. Photography and casting: Jorge Anaya. Art direction: Marco Castro. Stylist: Marcus Correa. Production: Dimitrios Poppis. Make-up: Mitch Yoshida. Assistant stylist: Veska Natamara.

9.5 Creative director Marcus Correa collaborated with photographer Carlos Jaramillo on thirty portraits and thirty full body looks for Willy Chavarria’s “CUT DEEP.” To quote Chavarria’s February 2022 piece for Paper magazine on the project, it consisted of “a visual representation of the sheer collective strength and beauty of the Latinx force which permeates color, gender, sexuality, body type, age and, of course, hair.” Photograph: Carlos Jaramillo. 9.6 Mellany Sanchez posing with her Air Max 97 Silver Bullet Puerto Rico designed shoe in her installation, “Objects of Permanence,” at the Nike Soho store at 21 Mercer. Photograph by Jessica Foley. Courtesy of Mellany Sanchez. 9.7 In 2019, Angelino photographer Estevan Oriol created a short documentary with Nike to celebrate Cortez’s 45th-year anniversary and the global influence of LA’s Chicano fashion. Photo © Estevan Oriol. 9.8 Dominican-American conceptual artist Lucia Hierro poses next to her Adidas Platanos sneakers, designed as part of the 2019 Hispanic Heritage Month campaign. Hierro stands in front of her 2019-piece Rack: Platanitos, part of her Mercado series. The piece was acquired by El Museo del Barrio in New York City after being exhibited in “Estamos Bien: La Trienal 20/21,” the first national large-scale survey of Latinx contemporary art. Photo credit: Project Greenhouse. 9.9 Greenhouse x Adidas AM4 sneakers, 2019, USA. The Museum at FIT. These sneakers were designed by Dominican-American artist Lucy Hierro for Hispanic Heritage Month. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Image List  262

9A.1 Brenda Equihua, Devotion coat, 2018 New Classics collection, USA. The Museum at FIT. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

9A.3 Pilgrim kid with the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe on his back walks on the highway Puebla–Mexico City on his way to la Basilica de Guadalupe. Photograph by Emilio Espejel/Getty Images.

9A.2 Back. Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

Image List  263

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS Laura Beltrán-Rubio is a curator, writer, and researcher, specializing in the arts of the Americas. Her interests revolve around the construction and performance of identities through artistic expression, with a particular interest in Indigenous arts and fashion. She received her PhD in American Studies from The College of   William & Mary and her MA in Fashion Studies from Parsons School of Design, US. She has taught at Parsons School of Design, William & Mary, and Universidad de los Andes. She is currently Senior Researcher at The Fashion and Race Database. Her work has been published in scholarly journals, the popular media, and exhibition catalogs.

Ana Elena Mallet is a Mexico City-based curator specializing in modern and contemporary fashion and design. She is currently a Distinguished Teacher at the School of Architecture, Art and Design of the Tecnológico de Monterrey, Mexico. Since April 2021 she has been an academic member of the Acquisitions Committee of the Department of Architecture and Design of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. She has curated numerous exhibitions including El arte de la indumentaria y la moda at Fomento Cultural Banamex (2016) and Rosa Mexicano, Moda e identidad; La mirada de dos generaciones at Casa del Lago in Mexico City (2009).

Alexis Carreño is Associate Professor in the Art Department at Universidad de Chile. He holds a PhD in Art History and Criticism from the State University of New York, Stony Brook, US, and a Master of Fine Arts from the Universidad de Chile. A Fulbright scholar from 2009 to 2013, Dr. Carreño works at the intersection of art, fashion, and masculinities. He has curated shows and exhibitions on fashion and art at the American Folk-Art Museum in New York and an exhibition on Chilean men´s fashion at Centro Cultural de España in Santiago, Chile.

Melissa Marra-Alvarez is Curator of Education and Research at The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology, New York, US. She was the co-curator of The Museum at The Fashion Institute of Technology exhibition, ¡Moda Hoy! Latin American and Latinx Fashion design Today (2023). Marra Alvarez also curated/co-curated the exhibitions Head to Toe (2021), Food & Fashion (2023), Minimalism/ Maximalism (2019), Force of Nature (2017) and Fashion & Politics (2009). Her publications include Food and Fashion (Bloomsbury, 2022), Fashion Underground: The World of Susanne Bartsch (2015), and Dance and Fashion (2013). She holds an MA in Museum Studies: Fashion and Textile History from the Fashion Institute of Technology, US.

William Cruz Bermeo is a fashion studies and fashion history professor in the Clothing Design Program at Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana, Colombia. He has authored multiple books and has presented his research in numerous articles as well as in national and international lectures. Cruz Bermeo has a degree in Fine Arts from the Universidad Nacional de Colombia.

264

Michelle McVicker is Permanent Collections Associate Registrar at El Museo del Barrio, New York, US. She was previously the Collections and Education Assistant at The Museum at The Fashion Institute of Technology, a Smithso-

nian Cultural Heritage Fellow at The National Museum of American History, and Collections Management Assistant at The Costume Institute. Her research interests include how material culture, specifically clothing, embody ever-evolving Latinx representations in the United States. Tanya Meléndez-Escalante is Senior Curator of Education and Public Programs at The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology. She co-curated ¡Moda Hoy! Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today (2023) at The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology, and curated Julia y Renata: Moda y Transformación (2020) at the Museo de Arte de Zapopan, Mexico, and Eterno Femenino (2017) in León, Mexico. A Fulbright scholar from 2002 to 2004, she is co-editor, with Elizabeth Way, of Food & Fashion (Bloomsbury, 2023), and contributing author to Exhibitionism (2019), Pink: The History of a Punk, Pretty, Powerful Color (2018), and La comedia y el melodrama en el audiovisual iberoamericano contemporáneo (2015). Meléndez-Escalante was a Fulbright scholar in 2002-2004. Hanayrá Negreiros is a Brazilian fashion scholar, curator, writer, and educator. She is doctoral candidate in History at the Pontifícia Universidade Católica de São

Paulo, Brazil. Member of The Association of Dress Historians (UK), she develops investigations focusing on dress histories of the African diaspora in Brazil, with special interest in curatorial practices, photography, religiosities, and memories of black families. She curated Indumentárias Negras em Foco [Black Clothing in Focus] exhibition at the Instituto Moreira Salles in São Paulo; has been columnist at ELLE Brasil; Adjunct Curator of Fashion at the Museu de Arte de São Paulo Assis Chateaubriand – MASP, and member of the Advisory Committee for The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology exhibition ¡Moda Hoy! Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today. Elena Pérez-Ardá López is the C-MAP (Contemporary and Modern Art Perspectives) Coordinator for the International Program at the Museum of Modern Art, New York. In 2022 she was awarded a Fulbright Research Fellowship to work with The Museum at The Fashion Institute of Technology where she focused on textiles of Latin America. Elena is an accomplished arts administrator with experience in public programming and curatorial research at nonprofits, artist residency programs, museums and galleries internationally.

Notes on Contributors  265

INDEX designers of Latin American heritage 80 dressing artists 87–8 Fernández, Carla 88–91 Hermaphrodite dress (Toledo) 82–4 inspiration taken from each 80 Julia y Renata 85, 86, 87 Mexico 85 minimalism 81, 91, 95–6, 107 movements in art, designers and 81, 91–106 Owens, Rick 96, 98–9, 110–13 performativity 82–5, 98–9, 102–3, 104–6, 110–13 political act, fashion as 161–3 Rodarte 91, 93–5 Rodríguez, Narcisco 91, 92 theatricality 96, 98–9, 110–13 Toledo, Isabel 81–5 Artesanías de Colombia 62 Arte Warmi 128

1/8 Takamura 73 20th century, global fashion scene in background for photography, Latin America as 26–32 Estévez, Luis (case study) 50–3 imagery and culture, Latino 22–6 international competitiveness, opening of economies to 34–7 talent pool, Latin America as 37–46 Abya Yala, use of term 56–7 Ackermann, Haider 14, 15, 44 Adelita pantsuit (Fernández) 179–82 Adidas sneakers 245–6 Adolfo for Emme 39–40, 41, 42, 43 Agua e Lulo 62 Albores Gleason, Monserrat 99–100 Alfaro,Victor 44 +Algodón 130–1 AMADEU 135 Amadeu, Flavia 133–6 Anarchitecture (Matta-Clark) 94 Anyi (brand) and anyi (concept) 60 architecture 91, 95, 96 Argentina design and 36 free trade, move from protectionism to 36 art and fashion Albores Gleason, Monserrat 99–100, 101 architecture 91, 95, 96 Barragán,Victor 102–4 blurred boundaries between 106–7 brutalism 81 collaboration with artists 81–91 connections between 79–80 Cornejo, María 85, 87–8 Costa, Francisco 95–6, 97

background for photography, Latin America as 26–32 Bad Bunny 188, 234 Balvin, J. 234 Bandini, Rigoberta 253 Barragán,Victor 100, 102–4, 190, 193, 194, 236–8, 246 “Barragán” 90 Barthes, Roland 32 Baudrillard, Jean 26 Bear Robe, Amber-Dawn 55, 64 “Bedding,” Case Museo Luis Barragán (Fernández) 88–90 Bella Doña 236 Bellavista Oveja Tomé 144 Beltrán-Rubio, Laura 162–3 Bhabha, Homi K. 28 biomaterials 135–41 Black, Sandy 120, 150

266

Blusa Cuadro Tlahui 73–7 Bojanic, Alan 131 Bolton, Andrew 22 Borrelli-Persson, Laird 24 Bourdieu, Pierre 209 Braga, Nina 140, 142 Brazil cotton production 130–1 free trade, move from protectionism to 36–7 brutalism 81 Butler, Judith 186 cactus leather alternative 135–8 calado (fretwork) 181 Calderón-Douglass, Barbara 235 Calle 13 253 Camino Real Hotel, Polanco, Mexico 102 Canclini, García 29 Cantú, Norma 175 Carla Fernández see Fernández, Carla carnivalesque 44, 45 Cázarez, Marte 135 charrería 179, 181 Chavarria, Willy 149, 189–90, 191, 232, 233, 238–41, 246 Chicano style 189–90 cholas, style of 24, 189–90 cholos and cholas 235–40 “Christmas at Cuzco” fashion spread (Penn) 26, 28–9 Cisneros, Patty 42 class politics charro outfit 179–82 see also political act, fashion as climate crisis in Latin America 117–18 see also sustainability Club Tropicana (Velásquez) 193 cobijas 250–3 Cohen, Jonathan 80, 147–9 Colombia Colombiamoda 34 Cortázar, Esteban 227 free trade, move from protectionism to 34, 36 Toro, Amelia 223–5 Colombiamoda fashion event, Medellin, Colombia, 2015 6 colonization/decolonization Abya Yala, use of term 56–7 cultural appropriation 57–9 Disneylandia collection (Fraga) 215 “Indigenization” of fashion systems 56 Indigenous cultures and 121 legacies in fashion 121 local production and culture, focus on 212 merging of nations and cultures 62, 64 Molina, Dayana 66, 69–70, 165–8 natural resource extraction and exportation 122

Nike Cortez 244 political act, fashion as 163–4 post-colonial lens of fashion 107 racial distinction via clothing 179 resistance to colonialism 121 sustainability and 121 traditional styles of dress and 57 visibility of Indigenous artists 64 see also Indigenous heritage in Latin American fashion color explosion associated with Latin America 24, 26 competitiveness, opening of economies to international 34–7 Corduroy zoot trousers 236–7, 238 Cornejo, María 12, 13, 44, 80, 85, 87–8, 146–7, 154–7 Correa, Marcus 240–1 Cortázar, Esteban 227–30 Costa, Francisco 44, 80, 81, 95–6, 97 cotton production 130–1 Cowan, John 31 Craik, Jennifer 26 Criales-Unzueta, José 240 cross-cultural endeavors 8 cross-dressing 187 Cuadro Tlahui blouse 73–7 cultural appropriation 57–9, 77 cultural authentication 57 cultural context, fashion as response to 205 cultural exchanges in Abya Yala 57 culture, Latino 22–6 Dai Chee Chaug, Diana 130 “Dark Horse” photo spread (Testino) 32 Davis, Angela 162 decentering approach 5 de la Renta, Oscar 20, 21, 40, 42, 44, 45, 80, 210–12 de la Torre, Clara 130 De Luna, John Carlos 246 Denis, Kouka Gaspar 38 #Descolonizeamoda 165 Desserto 135–8 Devotion coat (Equihua) 250–3 diaspora contributions of 4 talent pool, Latin America as 37–46 Dimant, Elyssa 96 distinction, Latin American elegance and 209–10 diversity in the Americas 4 in Latin American fashion 4 Dolce Vita, Anita 187 Donovan, Tara 88 drag 187 Duka, John 42 Durazo, Natalia 236

Index  267

Ecocitex 142–4 Eco-drape materials 146–7 economies, opening to international competitiveness 34–7 e-fabrics 139–41 Eicher, Joanne B. 57 “El Dorado” photo spread (Testino) 30, 32 elegance, Latin American de la Renta, Oscar 210–12 distinction and 209–10 European/local, tension between 206–9 Fraga, Ronaldo 204, 205, 212–14, 215–19 global market 210–12 Herrera, Carolina 210, 212 identity and 206–9 local communities, collaboration with 212–24 Portrait of a Young Woman (Díaz) 206, 207, 208 Rendering of a Mulatto (Arellano) 206, 208 Rión, Carmen 219, 220–2 Toro, Amelia 223–5 Elgort, Arthur 32 Engels, Friedrich 162 Equihua, Brenda 173–5, 250–3 Erekosima, Tonye V. 57 Escvdo 116–17, 119, 122–3 Estévez, Luis 38–9, 40, 50–3 ethics, collaboration with local communities and 212–24 ethnic identity 8–12 exoticism 26–7, 28, 163–4 “The Explorer: Fashion that’s all yours for the discovery ...” photo spread (Cowan) 31 farming methods 130–1 Farra, Emily 149 fashion designers, Latin American, as central figures 3–4 Fath, Jacques 22 femininity see gender and genderless fashion Fernández, Carla 6, 7 Adelita (charro) pantsuit 179–82 art and fashion 80, 88–91, 99 Carla Fernández Casa de Moda: A Mexican Fashion Manifesto 171 Indigenous heritage in Latin American fashion 60, 90, 118, 123–5, 168–73 Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance 124, 168, 171 political act, fashion as 158, 159, 160, 168–73 Fernández, Claudia 100 Finamore, Michelle 247n6 Fiore, Jessamy 95 “Flying Down to Lima” fashion spread (Penn) 26, 27–8, 29–30 footwear (sneakers) in Latinx culture 240–6 Fraga, Ronaldo 204, 205, 212–14, 215–19 Franco, Julia and Renata 85 Frederics, John 24

free trade, move from protectionism to 34–7 Fregoso, Rosa-Linda 175 Friedman,Vanessa 58 Gaugele, Elke 161–2 Gaultier, Jean-Paul 24, 25, 2424 gay community in Latin America 188 see also gender and genderless fashion Geczy, Adam 80 gender and genderless fashion Barragán,Victor 190, 193, 194 charro outfit (Fernández) 179–82 Chavarria, Willy 189–90, 191 clothing and appearance 186 cross-dressing 187 drag 187 gender-fuck 187 homosexuality in Latin America 188 intersectionality 188 in Latin America 188 Latino and Latinx designers 188–96 Latinx and Latin American cultures 187–8 López, Raúl 192 Mamado pantsuit (Sánchez-Kane) 201–3 Men without Fear (Sánchez-Kane) 184, 185 non-binary fashion 186–8 queer theory 186 Sánchez-Kane, Barbara 185, 188–9, 201–3 sex and 186 unisex fashion 187 Unisex/Non-binary category in CFDA Fashion Week 85 Velásquez, Mateo 193, 195–6 gender-fuck 187 Gernreich, Rudi 187 Givhan, Robin 236, 240 global fashion, recognition of 4 Global Fashion Capitals exhibition, Museum at FIT 6, 7 global fashion scene in 20th century background for photography, Latin America as 26–32 Estévez, Luis (case study) 50–3 imagery and culture, Latino 22–6 international competitiveness, opening of economies to 34–7 talent pool, Latin America as 37–46 globalization, opening of economies to 34–7 Goblot, Edmond 209 gold jewelry 243 González, Julieta 123 Gordon, Wes 58 Grenelle-Estévez 50, 51–3 Guadalajara, Mexico 85 Guna culture, textiles produced by 225n18 Guna nation 62

Index  268

Hall, Stuart 163 Hastreiter, Kim 81 Hearst, Gabriela 80, 131–3 Herchcovitch, Alexandre 34, 35 Hermaphrodite dress (Toledo) 82–4 Hernández, Lazaro 4, 5, 44 Herrera, Carolina 42, 44, 46, 58, 210, 212 Hevia, Rosario 142–4 Hierro, Lucia 245–6 Hispanic, use of term 8, 10, 12, 18n2 history, connection to through clothing 246–7 Homegirls 236 homogenous entity, Latin America as, rejection of 4 homosexuality in Latin America 188 see also gender and genderless fashion hooks, bell 163, 177n8 huipiles 59 Hurtado, Alda 175 Hyundai, partnership with Zero + Maria Cornejo 147, 154–7 identity connection to through clothing 246–7 fashion as response to 205 Latin American elegance and 206–9 race and ethnicity 8–12 see also gender and genderless fashion; Indigenous heritage in Latin American fashion imagery, Latino 22–6 “Inca-Metrics” photo-spread (Parkinson) 30, 31 Indigenous heritage in Latin American fashion Abya Yala, use of term 56–7 Anyi (brand) and anyi (concept) 60 Blusa Cuadro Tlahui 73–7 cultural appropriation 57–9, 60, 77 cultural authentication 57 cultural exchanges in Abya Yala 57 dominance of designers 60 fashion designers and 56 Fernández, Carla 60, 90, 118, 123–5, 168–73 huipiles 59 inequalities faced by Indigenous peoples 128 Juan de La Paz 124, 126–8, 130 Kallawaya cape 128 local communities, collaboration with 212–24 merging of nations and cultures 62, 64 mochilas 59, 61 Molina, Dayana 66, 69–70 positionality of author 56–7 as resistance to colonialism 121–2 Resort 2020 collection (Gordon) 58 self-representation 64–6 stereotyping of Indigeous peoples 60, 62

sustainability, collaboration with local communities and 118–19, 121–30 textiles, importance of 55–6 tunic by Wari artist 54, 55 visibility of Indigenous artists 64 white saviorism 60 Yucra, Annaiss 64–6, 67, 68 industry, fashion as 21–2 Instituto-E 139–40 international competitiveness, opening of economies to 34–7 intersectionality 188 Jee, Sungwon 147 jewelry, gold 243 Jiménez, Macario 37 Jordan, Andrés 124, 126–8 Juan de La Paz 118, 124, 126–8, 130 Julia y Renata 85, 86, 87 Kahlo, Frida, as fashion icon 24 Kallawaya cape 128 Karaminas,Vicki 80 Kelsey, John 95 Kilomba, Grada 164 Kuna 62 Kutesko, Elizabeth 32 Lambert, Eleanor 51 Lanvin, Jeanne 22 Latiné, use of term 8, 10, 12 Latino/a, use of term 8, 10, 12, 18n2 Latinx, use of term 8, 10, 12, 18n2, 247n2 leather alternatives 135–8, 140–1 Leather Boys I and II (Velásquez) 193, 196 Leiva, Pía and Loreto 144–5 Leon, Humberto 8, 9, 80 LGBTQI community in Latin America 188 see also gender and genderless fashion Lim, Carol 8, 9 Lipovetsky, Gilles 22 local communities, collaboration with 212–24 López, Raúl 190, 192 López Velarde, Adrian 135 Loyola, Frida 12 Luar 190, 192 Luza, Reynaldo 37–8 Macchiavello, Chiara 3 Mamado pantsuit (Sánchez-Kane) 201–3 Mamani, Cristina Paye 128–9 Mamani,Yola 128 Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance (Fernández) 124, 168, 171 Manto 128–30

Index  269

Manusoc,Valerie 6 Marant, Isabel 77 Márquez, Beatriz Aldana 179 Marx, Karl 162 masculinity, Latinx 186, 188, 189, 193, 196, 240 see also gender and genderless fashion materiality of fashion 12 Matta-Clark, Gordon 94, 95 Maynard, Margaret 121 McCardell, Claire 22 McCollough, Jack 5 Mears, Patricia 82 Mehrez, Samia 163 men and masculinity see gender and genderless fashion; masculinity, Latinx Menkes, Suzy 95–6 Men without Fear (Sánchez-Kane) 184, 185 Metsavaht, Oskar 139, 140 meXicana 175 Mexico 37 art and fashion 85 Barragán,Victor 236–8 Camino Real Hotel, Polanco 102 charrería 179, 181 charro outfit (Fernández) 179–82 Devotion coat (Equihua) 250–3 Indigenous heritage in Latin American fashion 90 Julia y Renata 85 Mamado pantsuit (Sánchez-Kane) 201–3 Sánchez-Kane, Barbara 104, 201–3 “Tecuatl” (Owens) 96, 98–9, 110–13, 114 micropolitics 164 minimalism 81, 91, 95–6, 107 Mirabella, Grace 40, 42 mochevales 219, 225n16 mochilas 59, 61 ModAtivismo 176 modeling by Latinas 38 Molina, Dayana 66, 69–70, 160, 165–8 Molinari, Aleph 238 Monse fashion show, spring-summer, 2021 10, 11 Mora, Maria 240 Morris, Bernadine 40 Mulleavy, Kate and Laura 91, 93–5, 236 Munay Sisters 144–5 Munguía, Mariana 85 Museum at FIT Global Fashion Capitals exhibition 6, 7 Hispanic, Latino/a, Latiné, Spanish, use of terms 12 museums fashion in 162 as sites of colonialism 98–9

music Latino 37 popular culture 251, 253 national identity fashion as response to 205 textiles, importance of 55–6 New York as cultural hub 38–44 Nike sneakers 243–5 Non-binary category in CFDA Fashion Week 85 non-binary fashion 186–8 Latino and Latinx designers 188–96 Nous Etudions 138–9 object analysis 12 O’Keeffe, Theresa 58 Opie, Catherine 95 organic cotton production 130–1 orientalism 22, 27 Oriol, Estevan 244 Ortiz, Johanna 15 Osklen 139–41 otherness, fixity and 28 Owens, Rick 79, 81, 96, 98–9, 110–13 Pachuco and Pachuca esthetics 235 Panama hats 22, 24 Pardo, Gustavo 37 Paredez, Deborah 233–4 Patou, Jean 22 Penn, Irving 26, 27–30 Pereira Paz, Juan Carlos 124, 126–8 Pérez, Paula 73–7 performativity 82–5, 96, 98–9, 104–6, 110–13 Pham, Minh-Ha T. 58 Phelps, Nicole 24, 87 photographers, Latino 38 photography, Latin America as background for 26–32 picturesque, the 26 Pineda Covalin 59 Pirarucu leather 140–1 political act, fashion as art and fashion, intersections between 161–3 decolonization 163–4 Equihua, Brenda 160, 173–5 exoticization of Latin American dress 163–4 Fernández, Carla 158, 159, 160, 168–73 idea of politics 159–60 issues addressed by designers 160 Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance (Fernández) 124, 168, 171 ModAtivismo 176 Molina, Dayana 160, 165–8

Index  270

Owens, Rick 99, 111 socio-affective micropolitics 164 see also gender and genderless fashion; sustainability politicization of fashion 31 polycentric approach 4–5 pop culture references Bad Bunny 234 Balvin, J. 234 Barragán,Victor 236–8, 246 Chavarria, Willy 232, 233, 238–41, 246 cholos and cholas 235–40 Corduroy zoot trousers 236–7, 238 Devotion coat (Equihua) 250–3 fashion industry and 233 gold jewelry 243 history, connection to through clothing 246–7 masculinity, Latinx 240 Pachuco and Pachuca esthetics 235 Quintanilla-Perez, Selena 233–4 rasquachismo 246 sneakers in Latinx culture 240–6 unconventional models, use of 240 Zoot suits 234, 235 pop music, Latino 37 Portrait of a Young Woman (Díaz) 206, 207, 208 post-colonialism see colonization/decolonization protectionism 34 PTRA 99–100, 101 Punto Blanco 131 queer theory 186 see also gender and genderless fashion Quintanilla-Perez, Selena 233–4 racial identity 8–12 racial plagiarism 58, 62 Ramírez, Pablo 32, 33 rasquachismo 246 Reblet, Pepe 34, 36 recycling leather 196 materials and clothing 118, 127, 142–9, 196 see also sustainability Rendering of a Mulatto (Arellano) 206, 208 Resort 2020 collection (Gordon) 58 Reyes, Pedro 90 Riezu, Marta D. 251 Rión, Carmen 219, 220–2 Rivenburg, Nancy K. 6 Rodarte 91, 93–5, 236 Rodríguez, Narciso 80, 81, 91, 92 Rogers, Richard A. 57 Romero, Lala 236

Root, Regina 4, 120, 121, 174 Rubartelli, Franco 31–2 rubber 133–6 rural communities, collaboration with 212–24 Said, Edward 26 Salazar, Rodrigo 235 Sanchez, Mellany 242–3 Sánchez-Kane, Barbara 78, 79, 104–6, 184, 185, 188–9, 201–3 Sandoval,Veronica 236 San Marcos blankets 250–3 Santamarina, Guillermo 85 Sardiña, Adolfo 39–40, 41, 42, 43 scale as challenge to sustainability 140, 142 Schouler, Proenza 4, 5 Schutte, Ofelia 6, 8 Seco, Ricardo 6, 7 Segalen,Victor 26, 27, 28 self-representation 64–6 setting for photography, Latin America as 26–32 sex and gender 186 Sherman, Cindy 88 sneakers in Latinx culture 240–6 social environment, fashion as response to 205 socio-affective micropolitics 164 sombrero vueltiao 24 Sontag, Susan 31 Soth, Alec 95 Spivak, Gayatri 164 Steele,Valerie 12, 37, 106, 162 stereotyping 29 of Indigeous peoples 60, 62 stigma regarding Latin America 3 sustainability Amadeu, Flavia 133–6 biomaterials 135–41 Chavarria, Willy 149 climate crisis in Latin America 117–18 Cohen, Jonathan 147–9 complex relationship with fashion 150 decolonization and 121 definition 120 design approaches 120–1 designers and fashion labels 116–17 Eco-drape materials 146–7 e-fabrics 139–41 Escvdo 116–17, 119, 122–3 farming methods 130–1 fashion industry and 118 Fernández, Carla 123–5 Hearst, Gabriela 131–3 importance of in Latin America 117–18 Juan de La Paz 124, 126–8, 130

Index  271

local communities, collaboration with 118–19, 121–30, 212–24 Manto 128–30 Munay Sisters 144–5 natural resource extraction and exportation 122 Nous Etudions 138–9 organic cotton production 130–1 Osklen 139–41 Pirarucu leather 140–1 raw materials 130–42 recycling of materials and clothing 118, 127, 142–9, 196 rubber 133–6 scale as challenge to 140, 142 upcycling 154–7 wool production and supply 131–3 Zero + Maria Cornejo 146–7, 154–7 Takeda, Armando 16, 17 talent pool, Latin America as 37–46 Taller Flora 123 “Tecuatl” (Owens) 96, 98–9, 110–13, 114 Telles, Edward 8, 10 Testino, Mario 32 textiles, importance of 55–6 Tharp, Twyla 82, 85 “The Air is Blue,” Case Museo Luis Barragán (Fernández) 88–90 theatricality 96, 98–9, 110–13 Toledo, Brenda Mondragón 58 Toledo, Isabel 2, 3, 44, 81–5 Toledo, Ruben 81, 82 Toro, Amelia 223–5 transexuality in Latin America 188 see also gender and genderless fashion Trebay, Guy 82 tribal guarachero boots 201 TSUMA dress (Escvdo) 116, 117 tunic by Wari artist 54, 55 20th century, global fashion scene in background for photography, Latin America as 26–32 Estévez, Luis (case study) 50–3 imagery and culture, Latino 22–6 international competitiveness, opening of economies to 34–7 talent pool, Latin America as 37–46 unconventional models, use of 240 unisex fashion 187

Unisex/Non-binary category in CFDA Fashion Week 85 United States Hispanic, Latino/a, Latinx, use of terms 8, 12 see also pop culture references upcycling 149 Zero + Maria Cornejo 154–7 see also sustainability Uribe, Rio 10 Valdiosera, Ramón 205 Vargas, Guillermo 73–7 Vargas, Kika 6 Veblen, Thorstein 209 Velásquez, Mateo 193, 195–6 Velez, Elena 10 Verner, Amy 227 Virgin of Guadalupe, image of 250–3 visibility of Indigenous artists 64 Walker, Harriet 107 Wari artist, tunic by 54, 55 waste materials, use of Zero + Maria Cornejo 154–7 see also sustainability Westwood,Vivienne 22, 24 “White Heat” photo spread (Elgort) 32 white saviorism 60 women charro outfit (Fernández) 179–82 see also gender and genderless fashion wool production and supply 131–3, 149 Wyman, Lance 102, 236 Nixuy blouses 73–7 yarns, Ecocitex 143–4 Yiapanis, Panos 111 Young, Robb 3 Yucra, Annaiss 64–6, 67, 68 Yúdice, George 210 Zero + Maria Cornejo 85, 87, 146–7, 154–7 zoot suits 234, 235, 238, 247n6 Corduroy zoot trousers 236–7, 238 riots 234, 236, 238

Index  272

273

274

Exhibition graphic from ¡Moda Hoy! Latin American and Latinx Fashion Design Today, at The Museum at FIT. Photo Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT.

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