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Huatulco

Wearing My Roots: A Queen’s Journey Through the Vela 27

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By Daira Moreno —

When I reflect on my roots, I picture myself beautifully dressed in Tehuana attire. It brings me back to my ancestors, especially my grandmother. The beauty of these dresses lies not only in their embroidery, but in the way they are passed from one generation to the next. Today, only a few artisans still know how to make Tehuana attire in its traditional form. The Zapotec language, along with the traditional techniques, is at risk of disappearing. Wearing the dress is an act of resistance, a way to keep our identity alive. The reaffirmation of Zapotec identity through the figure of the Queen of the Vela 27, embodied in my own experience of wearing the Tehuana dress, is a form of empowerment for the people of my town, the Ixtepecanos. It is also a way of preserving our culture at a time when many traditions are being lost in an increasingly globalized world.

Ciudad Ixtepec’s cultural identity lives within its traditional attire, the Tehuana dress, and in the fact that only a few artisans continue to make it in the old way. This fragility, of both language and dressmaking, shows how urgent it is to preserve these parts of our heritage. The Tehuana attire has also found its place in the larger story of Mexico. Iconic figures such as Frida Kahlo and Salma Hayek embraced it, drawing inspiration from Isthmus women and, in Hayek’s case, from her own Ixtepecana roots. Lupe Vélez immortalized the style in her film La Sandunga, helping introduce Oaxacan culture to national and international audiences. Many consider the Tehuana costume the most beautiful in Mexico. These cultural references strengthen the idea that Zapotec identity carries a significance that must be protected.

In this piece, I offer a brief reflection on my experience as queen of the Vela 27 and on the meaning of a Vela, with special attention to the clothing I wore throughout the five-day celebration which culminates in the coronation, where I step into the same role my mother and cousin once held, continuing a legacy begun by my grandmother, one of the festival’s founders.

This year, I served as queen of the Renombrada Vela 27, held in honor of San Jerónimo Doctor. It is characterized by dancing throughout the entire night, waiting for dawn to arrive. “Vela” is the name given by the friars to the indigenous festivities dedicated to the deities called “Za” or “Binnizá,” meaning “men of the clouds,” according to the agricultural calendar. With evangelization, these rituals were transformed into patron-saint festivals dedicated to Catholic saints, following the mission and religious order of the friars during the colonial period. The word vela comes from velar, meaning “to stay awake, to keep vigil all night,” which remains at the heart of the celebration today.

One of the most striking parts of the Vela is that all attendees must wear the Tehuana gala dress; otherwise, they are not permitted to enter. Women showcase their finest traditional gala dresses and high heels, each one striving to look as spectacular as possible. Men must wear a plain white guayabera with no floral embroidery.

The use of gold, coins, and ornaments in the festivities has its roots in practices of prestige and offering. In the case of coins, their presence is more recent, linked to the arrival of the Trans-Isthmus Railway and the port of Salina Cruz in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Gold in women’s attire also symbolizes the empowerment of Isthmus women, as well as well-being, economic stability, and even wealth. The use of minted coins changes the meaning significantly, which is why I emphasize empowerment.

Many of the pieces I wore are family heirlooms, and when I put them on, I feel the presence of my grandmother, my mother, and the women in my family who have kept these traditions alive. Each garment reflects the work of artisans whose techniques are at risk of disappearing.

To understand the significance of each day and the meaning behind every outfit, it is helpful to look at the schedule of the Vela 27 and the Tehuana attire I wore throughout the celebration.

The Vela 27 Schedule:
September 26 (evening): The festivities begin with the Calenda (traditional street parade) at 8 p.m., continuing until 2 a.m. The streets of Ixtepec come alive with dancing, fireworks, and music, announcing the start to the Vela 27. That evening, I wore a coordinated skirt and huipil made with the cadenilla technique, featuring pink and yellow greca designs crafted by the artisan Francisco Javier Reyes Vázquez from San Blas Atempa. My hairstyle followed the traditional style of the women of Ixtepec: two braids intertwined with a pink ribbon and adorned with artificial flowers. To complete the muda, I wore a three-strand espejito azucena necklace with a calabaza pendant in pearls and gold filigree, along with matching earrings and a bracelet made from 2.5-peso Mexican coins embellished with rubies and alejandrina.

2nd Day of Activities:
September 27 (morning): The queen’s Mañanitas begin at 7 a.m. and include serenades, prayers, and dancing. The organizers of the Vela attend, making it one of the most beautiful moments of the celebration, filled with emotion as the family prepares for the day. Breakfast is offered at the queen’s home to those who came to serenade her, and gifts are given to the attendees. This festivity also commemorates the birthday of the patron saint, San Jerónimo Doctor. For my muda during the Mañanitas, I wore a circular stylized yellow rabona skirt with a hand-stitched cadenilla huipil. I accessorized with a choker made of hinged coins and matching cross-shaped earrings.

September 27 (evening): The most significant and symbolic day of the Vela 27 gathers about 3,000 people. It begins at 9 p.m. and lasts until 7 a.m. The highlight of the event is the queen’s coronation, which includes her arrival, her first dance, and her speech. Past queens, as well as the queen from the previous year, also make their appearances. After the ceremony, the community spends the rest of the night dancing. On the day of my coronation, I proudly wore an original, hand-embroidered traditional dress crafted by the artisan Antonia Morales Lobo from the town of Santa Rosa de Lima. This community is distinguished by its mastery of the Tehuana gala dress, an art practiced by both its women and men. The making of this outfit was commissioned a year in advance.

The dress is a replica of one of my mother’s gala dresses, which she wore when she served as queen in 1985, although for my version I chose a garden of yellow Castilian roses. The outfit consists of the enagua (skirt) and the huipil (blouse). I also wore a gold fleco made of gusanillos and canelones, a distinctive accessory that sets the queen apart from the general public. My hair was styled in gathered braids with a rosette at the nape of the neck and a floral adornment on the left side, leaving the top free for the crown. The crown and its matching scepter were crafted exclusively for my reign by the master goldsmith Hugo Charo from the town of San Blas Atempa. My Tehuana attire was complemented by a set of gold doblón dos María jewelry and a matching ahogador, along with a bracelet, rings, earrings, and a hair brooch. All of these are family heirlooms in gold, passed down from generation to generation.

September 29: The lively and colorful Regada de Frutas fills the streets with decorated buses carrying the queens or captains, who toss food and gifts to the townspeople. Horses, bulls, and captains in traditional attire parade alongside, accompanied by children’s orchestras playing music from the buses. This day symbolizes giving back to the community.

During the Regada de Frutas, we rode on a float designed to match the colors and floral motifs of the outfit I wore that day. With great pride, I wore a huipil and enagua featuring multicolored orchids. This traditional ensemble from Salinas del Marqués, an agency of the municipality of Salina Cruz, Oaxaca, was crafted by the artisan Francisco Gallegos. The design itself was created by my mother, making it especially meaningful. The technique used for this dress is crochet work with yellow filled stitching. The outfit was completed with a two-strand lazo, a choker (ahogador), earrings, a bracelet, and a ring.

October 1 (noon): A mass is held in honor of the Vela 27’s patron saint, San Jerónimo Doctor. Afterward, the queen and princesses take a long walk accompanied by the music group until they arrive at the lavado de olla, where the founding members and the community await them. To enter the church and offer floral arrangements to San Jerónimo Doctor, I wore a yellow velvet Tehuana dress created with two traditional techniques known as flor en medio. The central floral motif was made using crochet work, while the edges featured geometric stitched patterns. I also wore the traditional gold fleco, and on this occasion the jewelry I used included a doblón necklace and a choker (ahogador) of great sentimental value, as both pieces belong to my mother. This dress was crafted by the artisan Francisco Javier Reyes Vázquez from the town of San Blas Atempa. This Tehuana dress uses an ancient technique that is now being revived, since velvet (terciopelo) is rarely used in contemporary Tehuana dressmaking.

As the final notes of the Vela faded, I realized that this experience was not only a personal honor but a reminder of the responsibility we carry. The Tehuana dresses, the rituals, the music, and the devotion of the community showed me how culture survives through practice, through memory, and through each generation choosing to keep it alive. Serving as queen of the Vela 27 strengthened my belief that our heritage is not something of the past, but a living tradition that continues to shape who we are.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Four Fashionable Mexican Heads of State

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By Marcia Chaiken and Jan Chaiken —

Fashion statements have been made for millennia by the Heads of State in Mexico. Whether in pre- or post-Columbian eras, the most important political Mexican figures have always signaled their relationship with the common people (and sometimes with their gods) with their attire. Here are the fashion statements made by four of the most known.

King Pakal the Great, (aka K’inich Janaab Pakal), who ruled over Palenque from age 12 for 68 years until his death in 683, may be best known for interpretations of engravings on his sarcophagus that led him to be called the Mayan astronaut or time traveler. The engravings show him sporting paraphernalia that looks like space flight equipment. But whether he was human or extraterrestrial, his funeral dress clearly indicates that he was considered more than a mere mortal. Adorned with a king’s ransom of jade, from his death mask to the multiple ear pieces, necklaces, bracelets, and rings, even in death he was an impressive sight. The jade mask is most startling because of the inlay of obsidian “eyes”.

Many engravings of Mayan rulers show them wearing elaborate headdresses. But anthropologist Alyce de Carteret described the primary fashion piece of Mayan rulers: “A bark-paper headband adorned with a diadem of jade or shell was bound to the heads of rulers the day they acceded to the throne.” However, existing clay figures of Pakal show him wearing a bird mask, a headdress of quetzal feathers and a long elaborate gown decorated with necklaces of jade. We can surmise that the gown was made from finely woven cotton, since only the wealthiest Mayans could afford that material.

Montezuma (aka Moctezuma II) was the 9th ruler of the Aztec Empire and was the head of state for eighteen years until his death in 1520. Unlike Pakal whose living attire requires some conjecture, Montezuma was well known to the conquistador Cortez, who arrested him.

He was an impressive fashion figure on first formal meeting. His headdress alone was spectacular and described as including “the green upper tail coverts of the quetzal bird, the turquoise feathers of the cotinga, brown feathers from the squirrel cuckoo, pink feathers from the roseate spoonbill, and small ornaments of gold.” His mantle or cape was completely embroidered in primary colors, and the designs depended on the day, the audience and the ceremony he was attending. He rarely wore the same outfit twice, keeping a small army of embroiderers constantly busy. His outfit was completed with a loincloth and sandals – some of jaguar skin, most with jewels.

For the most solemn occasions, much of the finery was omitted, and Montezuma wore a simple loincloth and a dark cape decorated with skulls. After his arrest, Montezuma was not required to wear today’s orange jump suit but rather continued as a figurehead under Spanish rule and wore his diminishing costumes until he died of his wounds after an uprising of his former subjects.

Empress Carlota (née Princess Charlotte of Belgium) was the one and only empress of Mexico for a very short reign from 1864 to 1867. She and her husband Maximillian were placed on the throne by Napoleon III. Given their very progressive ideas about educating and raising up the Mexican populace, they were quickly deposed and Maximillian was shot.

Although the royal couple’s ideas about ruling Mexico were violently rejected, Carlota’s fashion sense was much more captivating. Given her wish to become the benefactor of “her people,” she began to combine European fashion with the costume of the hoi polloi of Mexico. Although the wide skirts and rich materials were retained, the bodice of her dresses and overskirt resembled the china poblana traditional dresses worn by Mexican women – especially on occasions celebrating Mexican identity. She also adopted the bright primary colors of Mexican dress.

Her rule was short-lived but her incorporation of Mexico’s traditional styles into high fashion has lived on. Many of the high-fashion designers of Mexico today merge traditional embroidery or decorations into ultra-modern designs. Just walk down Avenida Presidente Masaryk in CDMX today, and fashions based on Carlota’s innovations come alive.

Presidente Claudia Sheinbaum The first woman president in Mexico, who took office almost two years ago, is scrutinized for fashion as no president ever before. She uses this attention to benefit women all over Mexico. For ceremonial occasions, in addition to her presidential sash, she often wears replicas of dresses from different regions of the country including the huipil, the china poblana, the Tehuana (from Oaxaca) and the Chiapaneca. The many artisans who create and decorate her dresses are publicly noted and often find themselves swamped with orders from ordinary citizens and beyond.

Of course, given her intense meeting and travel schedule, she also slips into comfortable pants and blouses. But the styles are business-appropriate. And unlike the wives of many heads of state, she avoids expensive designer clothes and instead wears fashions that are affordable for the majority of working Mexicans.

From Pakal to Sheinbaum, the Mexican heads of state have had distinctive styles worn as political statements. Some such as Carlota and Montezuma have had ruinous careers. Some such as Pakal and hopefully Sheinbaum have made positive contributions to lives of their people. All will likely be remembered for what they wore.

Drs. Marcia and Jan Chaiken have been married for 62 years and have published many justice system research reports together.

 

 

Huatulco

Footwear in Mexico

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By Jan Chaiken and Marcia Chaiken

One of our shared characteristics is flat feet. As children, we were among the very few who, while running around a pool, left footprints that displayed a complete foot with no open arch space. But the similarity in our feet ends there; one of us wears a US men’s size 13 shoe and the other a US women’s 5.5 (Mexico, size 22.5). For the latter, looking for smaller than average dress shoes that provide comfortable support was always a challenge in the U.S. – but not in Mexico.

Shopping for Mexican Shoes

For anyone in the United States or Canada whose feet are smaller than the shoes that local footwear brands bother to sell, traveling and shopping in Mexico provides them with a welcome opportunity to explore footwear in a great variety of styles, colors, materials and price ranges. That’s because Mexico has a long history of designing and creating footwear for a population whose mix of foot sizes differs from what is found in the US and Canada.

Production of footwear in Mexico developed gradually out of traditional work of artisans using locally available materials. Now it is one of Latin America’s major industries and collectively aspires to export to the entire world. But that is a comparatively recent development, as the first exports of footwear from Mexico to the United States occurred in 1951.

Before the Spanish conquest of Mexico (16th century), shoe making was already a creative endeavor. As throughout the world, once homo sapiens decided to stand on their own two feet and roam, there was a recognized need to protect soft soles from thorns and other sharp objects. Sandal-type foot coverings were made from bark, animal skins, plant fibers and, in Mesoamerica, from rubber. The nations indigenous to Mexico were creators of prototypes of the earliest artisan shoes – huaraches, an iconic Mexican style of sandals that continues to be popular today. Huaraches were traditionally made from woven leather strips but now are also of synthetic materials, with a distinctive, open-toed design. They come in various styles, from simple everyday versions to more ornate, decorative options. These shoes are not only comfortable and suitable for Mexico’s warm climate but are also a symbol of Mexican craftsmanship.

The conquistadores (and later their families) brought European design expectations with them and created a demand for footwear that was far more elaborate than simple huaraches.

Charro boots, or botas vaqueras, are also a distinctive style of Mexico. Charros are skilled horsemen who participate in rodeo events, and their attire, including the boots, has been widely adopted by Mexicanos. The boots typically feature pointed toes and high heels, have intricate designs and embroidery, and are acceptable at even formal events.

The Mexican Shoe Industry

Although Europeans who flocked to Mexico included shoemakers who started cottage industries to supply locals with footwear, Mexican shoemaking became centralized as the world shifted to mass production. Consider León, a city in the state of Guanajuato that is unofficially considered to be the footwear capital of all of North America – it produces more shoes annually than any other city on the continent. Nearly every major footwear company in Mexico has its headquarters or outlets in León. How did that happen? Well, León is surrounded by cattle ranches, which provide a large supply of hides for tanning, not to mention numerous cowboys needing boots. León also has a ready supply of water for tanneries. Talented shoemakers established factories in León initially to make rugged cowboy boots but gradually expanded to a wide variety of footwear.

While most shoe stores sell shoes for both men and women, the patterns of shopping and purchase differ greatly between them. In Mexico approximately 70% of all footwear purchases are for women’s shoes. Sometimes you may spy a husband or boyfriend just sitting placidly in a shoe store awaiting the woman’s decisions, and perhaps completing the final purchase. Studies show that approximately half of women’s purchases arise out of desire for style or variety rather than for need. A typical average is four pairs of shoes for work, three for exercise, five pairs of walking shoes, and three more for special occasions. Men, by contrast, generally consider only comfort, durability, and cost when buying shoes. Their wardrobe contains on average one pair for casual outings, one for sports or exercise, and two pairs of dress shoes.

The Story of Grupo Flexi

When we first travelled extensively within Mexico (over 25 years ago), quality shoes were readily available only in major cities, notably Guadalajara and Mexico City. Now they are plentiful even in Huatulco, and shoes can be purchased in other outlets such as Coppel or sections attached to supermarkets. Flexi is our go-to store in Mexico and is a typical mid-range store competing against brands such as DSW, Zappos, and ASICS.

Founded in 1935 under the name CESAR, Flexi is now a multi-national company with stores throughout North America, and exports to Europe and Asia. In 1998, Flexi had 30 stores in Mexico; by 2014, it was 300. By 2015, it was producing 16 million pairs of shoes a year; today it produces 22.6 million pairs a year. With $56.4 million in revenues, Flexi is the leading shoe manufacturer in Mexico.

Grupo Flexi now has over 400 physical stores in Mexico, perhaps 4,000 shops within other stores, and stores in a half-dozen other countries; it also runs a strong online business built on the latest SAP technology for e-commerce. Originally focused on outdoor boots, especially worker boots for men, Flexi now has designers who try to keep ahead of the latest styles and materials for women’s shoes.

Therein lies the rub. Finding comfortable dress shoes in size 22.5 for flat feet is not really easy even in Mexico’s Flexi shops. Once found and worn literally to shreds, they cannot be replaced with exactly the same style since designers have moved on to later fashions and models. The only solution is to buy several pairs of exactly the same shoes and hope that customs inspectors do not jump to the conclusion that they are being imported for resale and therefore are not duty-free. But the good news is that the need to shop for shoes in Mexico may prevent us from even considering giving up our annual winters in our home away from home.

Huatulco

Indigenous Fashion Meets Modern World

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By Brooke O’Connor

Clothes mean nothing until someone lives in them.
— Marc Jacobs

How we dress is an identifier. We signal to others our status, our preferences, and our priorities. We find it endearing when a multimillionaire wears “normal” clothes, and we see middle-class people going into debt for designer wares. Yet something interesting is happening in the fashion world, and it has everything to do with identities changing, bringing out an emphasis on pride in our roots.

High Fashion in a Traditional World

One designer at the forefront of this movement is Carla Fernández. Just last October, she received the first annual Designer of the Year award for fashion from Latin American Design (LAD), the promotional organization for creative design in Latin America. LAD held a Fashion Week in Washington, DC, to present the awards; Fernández gave one of two Design Talks, “Fashion as Resistance: A Conversation with Carla Fernández.”

The Carla Fernández Casa de Moda (Fashion House), founded in Mexico City in 2000, focuses on preserving and rejuvenating the rich textile traditions of indigenous and mestizo communities in Mexico. She operates a “sister” business, a mobile studio called Taller Flora, A.C. (Flora’s Workshop, nonprofit – http://www.tallerflora.org/), with the motto “The Future is Hand-Made.”

The partnership demonstrates that ethical fashion can be cutting-edge, creative, and forward-thinking, while still incorporating painstaking artisanal techniques and traditional design. By acting as a catalyst for transformation in the world of luxury fashion, Carla Fernández is actively supporting the preservation of ancient indigenous methods and the individuals who safeguard this invaluable heritage. You can look at or purchase her designs at http://www.carlafernandez.com.

The Traditional Huipil in the Modern World

The huipil is an excellent example of fashion coming full circle for daily wear. Derived from the Nahuatl word huīpīlli, it is popular traditional attire worn by native women in Mexico and some regions of Central America. These cap-sleeve blouses, which are roomy and comfortable, are typically crafted by stitching together two or three rectangular fabric pieces, leaving openings for the head and arms. They may also feature ribbons or fabric strips or embroidery.

Huipiles come in various designs, some of which are intricate and hold significant meaning. The dressiest huipiles are worn at velas, days-long fiestas that celebrate culture and tradition, most prominently in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec.

The style of a huipil can indicate the wearer’s social class and ethnicity; in addition, methods of design and decoration creation within each community can also be conveyed through the huipiles, providing insight into the wearer’s locality.

The huipil, commonly worn in this tropical climate, is usually lined with cotton to ensure comfort. Back in the early twentieth century, fabrics for huipiles were manufactured in Manchester, England, and then exported to the Isthmus as sewing machines became more prevalent; machine-made patterns with chain-stitching gained popularity, complementing the traditional hand embroidery work.

The evolution of fashion has been shaped by macro socioeconomic trends, including capitalism, rising consumption, and shifting interpretations of national symbols. Huipiles have changed style and importance as their makers have incorporated traditional indigenous patterns into contemporary fashion.

The huipil’s evolving designs tell a story of cultural exchange between indigenous traditions and Western modernity. In the classic Mayan period (300-850 CD), weavers created translucent, white-on-white fabric for huipiles, which was used until the modesty requirements of the Porfirian era dictated a change to opaque muslin; up until then, women wore slender wrap skirts – these were replaced with wider skirts worn over multiple petticoats.

The huipiles and skirts represented different social classes. Women with limited economic resources usually wore plain huipiles, kept the wrap-around skirts, and braided ribbons into their hair. Women of higher social status wore clothes with ruffles, lace collars, gold fringes, and silk scarves. Indeed, you couldn’t be admitted to many public fiestas unless your dress was deemed suitable for a gala.

Traditional Traje – A Modern Choice

Today, we see a resurgence of Latinas choosing traditional clothing over fast fashion and homogenized looks. Mexican women, for example, proudly wear their indigenous attire in everyday life and on important occasions. Latinas in the USA are no different; they have embraced this fashion trend. Some people wear indigenous clothes as a fashion statement, while others wear them to embrace their mixed heritage as mestizas. Some see it as a powerful way to reconnect with their indigenous roots and challenge colonial beauty and cultural norms.

This shift in attitude toward indigenous textiles, dresses, and shirts marks a significant departure from previous generations, who considered them outdated, unfashionable, and an invitation to discrimination. Mexican-Americans who came of age before the 1970s were discouraged from speaking Spanish or showcasing their cultural background. Families made efforts to blend into white American society, and educational institutions and cultural establishments reinforced this by advocating for the use of only one language. Countless Mexican-Americans faced discrimination, both in the past and even today, especially when speaking Spanish or embracing their traditional attire.

The concept of Mexican clothing has been evolving and adapting to the younger generations. Anyone can pair a simple blouse with intricate flower embroidery and jeans instead of a traditional skirt. The new fabrics are less fussy and can be washed in a machine instead of by hand.

Latinas increasingly recognize indigenous communities’ rich diversity and appreciate their unique creativity. Each design and stitch holds a special meaning for every community, highlighting the importance of cultural representation.

What You Wear – Is It “Cultural Appropriation”?

The Oxford Dictionary defines appropriation as “the action of taking something for one’s own use, typically without the owner’s permission.” Does that mean you shouldn’t buy Mexican-style clothing?

Purchasing and wearing clothes made by local artisans sends money into the community and into the hands of the people produce the clothing. Take advantage of the opportunity to purchase handmade, sustainably-produced, items that will last many years and never go out of fashion.

Huatulco

Appropriation, Appreciation, Inspiration: The Taking of Mexican Fashion

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By Deborah Van Hoewyk

On Thursday, October 20, 2022, author and Mexican First Lady Beatriz Gutiérrez Müller Instagrammed American designer Ralph Lauren:

Hey, Ralph, we already knew that you’re a big fan of Mexican designs, above all those that work with our ancestral cultures to preserve textile traditions. However, by copying these designs you commit plagiarism, and as you know, plagiarism is illegal and immoral. At least acknowledge it. And I hope you compensate the damage to the native communities that do this work with love and not for million-dollar profits.

Gutiérrez was calling out Lauren for his use of Mexican serape fabric in a cardigan-style jacket in his current line of clothing; she mentioned specifically the weavers from Contla de Juan Cuamatzi in Jalisco and Saltillo in Coahuila as the “authors” of the textile design of the cardigan.

This was not the first time, either. Ralph Lauren has made a mint by refining the looks of the New England preppie, early-Hollywood glamour, and the rough-and-rustic American West. It was hardly a skip or a jump when his collection for Spring/Summer 2013 was described, by The New York Times, as showing there was “no doubt Ralph Lauren was down Mexico way.” Lauren again showed serapes in his Fall 2014 collection, when he added a Polo Ralph Lauren collection for women that included a Mexican-patterned maxi dress and a serape-fabric jacket.

Cultural Appropriation

Gutiérrez clearly sees Lauren’s use of the serape fabric as cultural appropriation. She identifies his work as plagiarism, i.e., an exact copy, and asserts that it has damaged the indigenous communities, whose work is a labor of love that preserves ancient traditions, because Lauren did not acknowledge or compensate them. Lauren no doubt considered it cultural appreciation – if he considered it at all.

A repeat offender like Lauren, Marant included a cape clearly taken from the Purépecha of Michoacán in her 2020-21 Etoile collection. Alejandra Frausto Guerrero, the Mexican Minister of Culture, sought an explanation:

Some symbols [on the cape] that you took have a profound meaning for this culture. These symbols are very old and have been conserved thanks to the memory of the artisans. I ask you, Ms. Isabel Marant, to publicly explain on what grounds you privatize a collective property … and how its use benefits the creator communities.

In 2021, Frausto Guerrero accused several other fashion brands of wrongly appropriating designs from three Oaxacan towns. US-based Anthropologie took embroidery patterns representing the sun, the mountains, and the maguey cactus preserved by the Mixe of Santa María Tlahuitoltepec, and slapped them on fringe-edged shorts no Mexican woman would ever wear. The Spanish retailer Zara made a light green dress with dark green embroidery patterns unique to the Mixtec weaving cooperatives of San Juan Colorado. Internet-based retailer Patowl was selling blouses with elaborate embroidery characteristic of the Zapotec community in San Antonio Castilla Velasco.

Protecting All Cultural Expression

These events foregrounded the need for legal protection of Mexico’s indigenous cultural heritage from the “plagiarism” of appropriation. According to Andrea Bonifaz of the social justice organization Impacto Social Metropolitan Group, which defends the rights of traditional artisanal communities against cultural appropriation, the underlying problem is that “ancestral expressions, like the serape, are collective.” Laws protecting patrimony cover individuals, not communities. “Who or what the community is,” and therefore who can bring suit, is never defined.

However, some progress has been made. In 2020, following the Herrera resort-wear confrontation, Mexico changed the federal copyright law to specify that native communities – if the community has taken the steps to organize as a collective – own the intellectual property rights to craftwork that expresses cultural and local popular tradition. As owners of their work, they can oppose unauthorized use, even when that use altered the original design. In 2021, the Mexican senate passed a federal law that established penalties for taking – by reproducing, copying, imitating, or otherwise appropriating without prior and proper authorization – the designs that represent indigenous cultural heritage, including that of Afro-Mexicans.

These legislative changes set up a legal framework and a registry to recognize cultural expressions, identify the owners of those expressions, and establish the protocols for owners to authorize any permitted use. Mexico’s Institute of Industrial Property (IMPI, manages patents and trademarks) and the Copyright Office (INDAUTOR) give classes for indigenous communities and individual artisans on intellectual property, explaining how to protect their rights to their work. They also give discounts to the artisans or collectives for registering ownership of their work.

From Appropriation to Appreciation

Is it ever okay to use the cultural assets of another people? Vogue India, prompted by Sarah Jessica Parker’s costume in the “Diwali” episode of And Just Like That, asks “How do you know if you are co-opting cultural connotations or innocuously borrowing an aesthetic?”

It’s a longstanding debate, but the answer, actually, is yes, you can appreciate rather than appropriate (see Brooke O’Connor’s article on page 26). Vogue India came up with a rather narrow answer – you have to avoid “demeaning” the culture from which you have taken something. This is a backward way of saying you have to respect, to recognize, to acknowledge the culture that produced it. Vogue India quotes Kelvin Gonclaves, owner of Elkel, an “avante-garde” boutique in the Soho neighborhood in New York City:

If your action disrespects the original idea because of cultural, religious or other customs, then you’ve gone too far. If you claim it as yours without giving credit, you’ve definitely gone too far. There are a few things that should never be done like blackface or dreadlocks on a white person. With taste and acknowledgement, though, most things can be done.

Gonclaves thinks that all art, fashion included, “borrows inspiration from other cultures [to create] new and wonderful things.”

The Gray Area of Inspiration

The designers Mexico has accused of cultural appropriation have said their work is “inspired” by Mexican “ideas.” That may well be so, but it doesn’t determine whether or not they have created something “new and wonderful.”

Take a look at a sweatshirt recently stocked at both Nordstrom and Gonclaves’ boutique:

Billed as a “Gender Inclusive Keith Haring Witches Print Cotton Blend Sweatshirt,” it’s sold out at Nordstrom. According to Nordstrom, the sweatshirt and matching sweatpants were “produced in collaboration with the Keith Haring Foundation” and “creatively showcases the late artist’s iconic designs.” There is no mention that Haring produced the designs forty years ago, or that they were inspired by ancient Mexican hieroglyphic writings and low-relief sculptures.

Keith Haring (1958-90) was a New York “street artist” whose early work, inspired by the graffiti subculture of the early 1980s, was considered pop art, and Haring was very much a part of the pop art scene. In 1982, he was approached by Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood, who were very much a part of the same scene in England, to prepare designs on the theme of “Witches” for one of McLaren’s albums (Duck Rock) and McLaren/Westwood’s fashion line. By 1983, Haring had produced the Witches series of drawings, but never credited any specific Mexican sources.

Haring was diagnosed with AIDS in 1987; he set up the Keith Haring Foundation to preserve and promote his work, and to raise funds for those affected by AIDS. The Foundation licensed the sweatshirt and pants as a fundraising activity. It can easily be argued that the Witches sweatsuit is “inspired” by Mesoamerican designs, that Keith Haring did not “appropriate” any specific work, and that he created something “new and wonderful.” But a little mention of how he came to use his Mexican inspiration might have been nice.

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The Lure of Hawaiian Shirts

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By Randy Redmon

Although the actual origin of this colorful shirt is kind of hard to find, the aloha shirt first appeared in Hawaii sometime between 1920 and 1930. Japanese women started making shirts from the same fabric that they used to make kimonos. The shirts started to get very popular with tourists in Hawaii at the time, but they really started taking off when they hit the mainland in about 1931.

In the 1930s, America was going through some pretty harsh times, a lot of folks were out of work, others struggled just to make ends meet. With hardship and anxiety riddling the country, people craved something happy – enter the Hawaiian shirt! The shirt became super en vogue, which seems a bit odd, because this was also when the superhero emerged. The Hawaiian shirt seemed to be in sharp contrast to the superhero mentality, but that didn’t seem to affect the explosive popularity of the flowery garment.

You have to be careful, though, these shirts can be addicting – some people have five or six of them in their closets. The shirt just seems to bring you back to a happier time, a warmer time. Hawaii can be everywhere, anywhere, even here in Huatulco! It is so fun to see peoples’ faces when they climb our spiral staircase to the second floor where our array of vintage Hawaiian shirts is displayed. You can’t help but have a smile on your face when you see these colorful gems.

Randy Redmon runs the Huatulco Surf Co., located in Tangolunda, Huatulco.