Featured Interviews: Fashion Program
University Spotlights
Sylwia Nazzal: Looking to the Past, Changing the Future
South Asian Motifs: Resistance in Times of Rising Turmoil
Being so Fur Real: The Cultural Politics of Furs in Fashion


Featured Interviews: Fashion Program
University Spotlights
Sylwia Nazzal: Looking to the Past, Changing the Future
South Asian Motifs: Resistance in Times of Rising Turmoil
Being so Fur Real: The Cultural Politics of Furs in Fashion
If this year at GWFBA has proven anything, it’s that we are more than just a student organization. We are a center for change, a catalyst for creativity, and a channel for impact—especially at the intersection of fashion, business, and now, culture.
When I joined FBA in the fall of my sophomore year, I never imagined I’d be in the position I am today. As a general body member, I could see the organization’s untapped potential to do something truly unique on GW’s campus. As Vice President of Graphic Design during my junior year, I saw that potential transform into passion as we brought GEORGE to life on a much larger scale. And now as President in my final year, I’ve watched that passion spread across our entire organization—felt in every conversation, every collaboration, and every member.
This year has demanded a tremendous amount of time, effort, and sacrifice, in a way that has fundamentally changed me. But I would do it all over again to see this project come to life once more. I genuinely don’t know where I’d be without the community FBA has given me, and I am still in awe of the growth it’s experienced since its inception in 2018. It’s been a space of personal growth—as a student, as a leader, and as a friend—and for that, I am endlessly grateful.
I truly believe this issue is not only the pinnacle of what we can achieve professionally, but a reflection of who we are as a community. GEORGE VII stands for more than any issue before it—honoring the cultures, colors, and identities that make our world what it is today. Over the past year, our team has worked tirelessly, in partnership with student organizations across campus, to bring this vision to life.
To my Vice President Nneoma—thank you for your strength, strife, and service.
To our e-board—thank you for believing in this vision and sacrificing so much to make it real.
To every member—thank you for contributing to this magazine in every way, both big and small.
And to every reader—I hope you are just as inspired, challenged, and impacted by the creation of this magazine as
Welcome to the seventh edition of GEORGE! This issue holds a very special place in my heart and has given me one of the most rewarding experiences of my young life thus far. As it was my final year being Editor-in-Chief, I wanted to create a theme completely unlike anything that FBA had ever done before. I had bored of recycling the same topics and wanted to challenge writers to explore areas of the fashion zeitgeist that go beyond the usual mainstream trends and designers. I asked myself: What other fashion communities can we highlight that are often overlooked?
This desire for something fresh, coupled with the current anti-diversity climate of Trump’s America, sparked the perfect idea: Decentering Eurocentrism. With this theme, I gave my writers full reign to write about any topic they wanted, as long as it did not adhere to Eurocentric fashion standards. Their response was nothing short of enthusiastic, and they completely exceeded my expectations. I am incredibly proud and honored to have worked with such a talented team of writers and I’m thrilled with this body of work we collectively worked together to create. Now more than ever, it’s crucial to champion diversity in all aspects, especially in fashion.
I’d like to give a special shoutout not only to my amazing writers but also to the creative team and all of E-board, who went above and beyond to transform this vision from a loose concept into a fully realized, published piece of editorial work. Their behind-thescenes effort deserves all the recognition.
Another special shoutout is deserved for our general members and outside enthusiasts who volunteered their time and energy to contribute to GEORGE and help bring these articles to life. Photographers, models, graphic designers, makeup artists, those who lent us clothing, and so many more. I see you and I thank you!
I hope you all take the time to read and appreciate these pieces thoroughly. This magazine is the culmination of months of hard work that deserves every reader’s full and undivided attention. Take the time to learn something new, reflect on your own thinking, or discover something unexpected.
I am truly so happy and fulfilled that I am ending my time in FBA on such a fantastic note and I truly hope you all enjoy what we have to offer. *Cue tears—sad, but mostly happy*
Editor-in-Chief, GEORGE Nneoma Iloeje
Managing Editor, GEORGE Adyant Patnaik
Editor-in-Chief, After Hours
Noah Edelman
Design Team
Hung Nguyen
Isabel Humphrey
Kelly Rahimi
Coco Kim
Jasmine Sacks
Photo and Video Team
Sarah Strausberg
Rachel Schwartz
Tony Boyd Sam Penzone
President Ethan Valliath
Vice President Nneoma Iloeje
Multimedia
Ethan Fernandes
Social Media
Amari Sharma
Modeling
Grace Lane
Events
Keja Ferguson
Orli Rose
Business Outreach
Ava Zohn
Treasurer and Secretary Fayre Li
Podcast
Madeline Ng
Kyla Robinson
Ariana Ceinos
Zakir Zurga
Philippe Tchokokam
Zoe Luce
Declan Kelly
Adyant Patnaik
Carly Cavanaugh
Nick Patterson
Disha Goyal
Maddie Keiser
Sam Penzone
Kiki Baumgartner
Charlotte Brodbeck
Alexandra Ennabi
Sarah Gross
Sofia Giannetto
Krithika Krishnan
Megan Krueger
Lily Legere
Alex Marootian
Adyant Patnaik
Keira Peters
Ava Privratsky
Victoria Smajlaj
Rita Stein
Eliza Thorn
Molly Wolf
Amelia Achmad
Hibah Ahmed
Hien An
Genieve Anokye
Simrin Arora
Adi Bahal
Alexa Balian
Alex Batzar
Uma Bondada
Lauren Brandt
Giacomo Brosco
Alexa Brown
Ana Bursac
Noelle Cardi
Matteo Chang
Marcus (MJ) Childs
Ainsley Cobb
Sofía Corral Kindlund
Jack Couser
Reva Dalmia
Caroline Demetrakas
Nazira Djor
Quinn Dolan
Priyanka Dubey
Luke Fernandez de los Muros
Vittoria Ferrari
Sasha Fishilevich
Kyla Freeman
Ava Gilder
Lucas Golluber
Ariana Gonzalez
Elias Gray
Elizabeth Hajosy
Callie Hoffman
Lara Jasaitis
Katia Jebejian
Chandler Johnson
Alex Johnson
Neda Joulapour
Jordan Juliano
Michael Kaplan-Nolan
Maddie Keiser
Isabella Kelly
Chanel Kenney
Aaryan Khanna
Coco Kim
Joshua Kim
Alexa Kieltyka
Natalie Kozhemiakin
Chaewon Lee
Faith Lee
Abigail Levack
Audrey Lorence
Danielle Lucero
Hema Mangat
Rebecca Marsalese
Nathalia Martinez
Lucas Matuszewski
Audrey McDaniel
Lucy McKay
Anna Mennuti
Leah Meyerson
Lina Moini
Siena Morgenthal
Ethan Mpanju
Zay Naeem
Parnia Nasrullah
Nina Necek
Paige Nelson
Kennedy Nga
Sophie O’Connell
Hadassah Olakanpo
Sophia Oppenheim
Naz Ozkaya
Samriddhi Patankar
Noah Pavlov
Dre Pedemonte
Kiera Peters
Deepti Pillai
Benjamin Preceruti
Renee Purcait
Arjun Rajan
Noah Roberson
Joie Ruble
Eliza Rzhevskaya
Jasmine Sacks
Shashank Salgam
Eva Sarder
Lily Saunders
Mukul Seem
Jeremiah Serrano
Leila Shahidi
Violet Sheehan
Janice Shin
Crosslin Silcott
Lily Silverman
Victoria Sim
Suzanne Slovak
Sonali Sood
Rita Stein
Justin Stern
Ava Stewart
Sophia Tamburrino
Ginger Taurek
Megan Taylor
Florence Tian
Anna Tracy
Samie Travis
Abby Turner
Francesca Fiona Umali
Aanya Usmani
Kuren Vandyoussefi
Jade Vann
Isa Vasseva
Beatrix Verstegen
Arizona Weinstein
Gabriel Wright
Seiji Wright
Jenna Xavier
Kaitlin Yang
Christine Yoo
by Megan Krueger
Ebubechukwu Udeh
Shot by Sarah Strausberg
The convention hall in Bamako, Mali is a collage of colors: lilac, scarlet, lime, and fuchsia. Models glide down the catwalk, accompanied by a score courtesy of musicians hailing from all over the West African region. The true focus of the evening, however, is on the eye-catching garments being showcased on the runway. The oneof-a-kind designs, from tailored suits to experimental haute couture, all have one thing in common: they are created entirely from bazin.
This is Festi’Bazin, a festival dedicated to this special textile. In Mali, bazin isn’t just fabric. It’s a symbol of identity, history, and artistry celebrated not only for its beauty, but also for its role in shaping lives and livelihoods.
“West African traditional wear is bazin,” Fatoumata Diaby, founder of a
commercial bazin business in Bamako, tells journalist Mel Bailey.
Diaby’s family has dyed and sold bazin since 1968, so she knows first-hand the cultural significance the fabric possesses. Malians will spend nearly every special day in their lives wearing it, including marriages, baptisms, and holidays like Eid al-Adha and Ramadan. This popularity has allowed bazin to become not only an important cultural symbol, but also an economic staple in the country.
To understand why this fabric holds such prominence, we must journey back to its origins and the evolution of its craft. Bazin originated in England and was widely used in the 1700s to make clothing, curtains, pillows, and tapestries. The textile arrived in Mali around a century later, leading to the
creation of an entire industry oriented around its production and importation. Well-known bazin sectors have also popped up in neighboring countries like Senegal and Ghana, but to this day, Mali’s bazin industry remains the most famous.
Bazin, simply put, is a heavy, hand-dyed, polished cotton, typically made from cotton fiber or from a mix of cotton and satin. It is also called damask, which means that when it is woven, different yarn is used in the vertical warp and horizontal weft directions. Bazin is also classified as a brocade because a raised design is woven into the fabric. The quality of the cotton threads used determines which bazin variety the fabric is classified as. Premium bazin is the highest in quality, made with extremely fine cotton, resulting in increased vibrancy and shine.
Monyennement Riche is considered a mid-grade option, as it is typically made from cheaper cotton than premium varieties. Finally, Moins Riche is of the lowest quality but is also a quarter of the premium price, which allows people on a tighter budget to also have access to the beautiful fabric.
Despite Mali’s fame for its bazin sector, bazin is typically not woven within the country but is imported from places like Germany, India, Austria, and China. Once it arrives in Mali, it passes through the hands of countless workers including dyers, beaters, shippers, tailors, tinters, and boutique owners before being purchased by customers, many of whom travel to cities like Bamako specifically for the textile. Bazin is a timeconsuming product to create, as its transformation from a plain white fabric into a shimmering masterpiece involves meticulous dyeing and hours of careful finishing. The fabric is plunged into dye baths to give it its characteristic vivid color. It may also be knotted before being dipped in pigment, creating ornate patterns such as diamonds and spirals.
Dyed bazin is washed in cold water to seal its color before being soaked in a starch solution and rubbed with wax to increase its stiffness. After drying in the sun, the bazin is hammered with a wooden mallet called a finigochila, which brings out the fabric’s iconic luster. One finigochila can weigh up to 35 pounds and is glazed with wax before being used to beat the bazin. This part of the process can take up to three hours in order to achieve the preferred level of shine. Finally, the bazin will be sold, or perhaps sent to tailors and designers who create stunning garments from the fabric.
As can be expected, the popularity of bazin has led to a push for cheaper workarounds to create the fabric faster. Natural dyes may be abandoned in favor of harsher chemicals, many of which can be harmful to dyers who may work without protection. Their skin is often stained due to long exposure to the dyes, which, during times of high demand, may be up to twelve hours. Bazin beaters also work extremely long hours, and often for little pay. Still, the
industry continues to remain popular, given how easy it is to enter. No school is required, and anyone is allowed to train in order to pick up traditional techniques that have been passed down for generations.
“I watched for three weeks before they let me start,” Bailey quotes Gigi Koné, who works as a bazin beater in Bamako. “That was two years ago.”
Issoufou Soumalia Mouleye, an economics professor at a business school in Bamako, has also observed the job opportunities the bazin industry provides.
“The bazin sector is actually a booming sector for people who are familiar with bazin, and its impact on the Malian economy is real,” he agrees in a documentary for Reuters. “It’s a positive impact when you realize that the group of essential actors from the informal sector make their livings in making Malian bazin.”
Many people in the bazin sector hope that the Malian government will continue to recognize the importance of bazin to the economy. When artisans began hand-dying the imported cloth, the sale value of bazin went up by 40%. The next step for the industry could be creating the fabric itself. Although Mali is one of the top producers of cotton in all of Africa, the bazin itself continues to be imported. The creation of cotton factories in Mali itself could allow the industry to continue to grow and create even more jobs.
“It is not likely to happen in one or two years, or even 10 years,” admits Aminata Bocoum, founder of Mali’s famous Festi’Bazin, in an interview with Reuters, “but it will happen at some point. We
already have the added value—if we have the factory, we’ll have the whole production chain.”
In fact, Bocoum created Festi’Bazin specifically to highlight how bazin can bring positive change to the lives of Malians, and to West Africa as a whole. The event is held in Bamako every October to showcase the fabric and features clothing by designers from not only Mali, but also Senegal, Niger, and Morocco. Historically, bazin has been worn as a status symbol and indicator of wealth, but Festi’Bazin allows it to be celebrated as a cultural unifier. The festival pays tribute to the many hard-working people responsible for the bazin industry’s existence through design exhibitions and workshops demonstrating bazin’s complex dyeing process. Festi’Bazin aims to connect craftsmanship to contemporary fashion while emphasizing the economic importance of bazin. Alongside the clothing, attendees are treated to music and dance performances, as well as Malian cuisine. Festi’Bazin is a celebration of bazin, but it is also a celebration of Mali’s cultural landscape itself, demonstrating how the two—bazin and Malian culture—are intrinsically linked.
From the textile markets in Bamako’s industrial center to festive celebrations like Festi’Bazin, it is obvious how deeply woven one shining fabric is into the cultural identity of Mali. The crafting of bazin is a practice that dates back centuries, and the bazin industry in Mali seeks to keep this tradition alive for many centuries to come by continuing to expand and innovate within its production. Bazin is more than just a fabric, or even a tradition. It is a bridge between Mali’s past and aspirations for the future, where innovation meets heritage, and artistry drives economic transformation.
Courtesy of Awale Biz, Lakroz, Mel Bailey, UK Entry, and Reuters.
Bazin is more than just a fabric, or even a tradition. It is a bridge between Mali’s past and aspirations for the future, where innovation meets heritage, and artistry drives economic transformation.
by Ava Privratsky
Precious metals like gold and silver have held a meaningful place in fashion for centuries. The alluring materials have a timeless enduring appeal and have been ascribed many intricate meanings by human societies, solidifying their importance in our cultures and practices of physical adornment.
From jewelry to clothing, gold, and silver have been universally used to adorn and enhance fashion and beauty, as well as demonstrate status and eliteness in society. Gold is typically valued for its elegance and versatility, with its warm shine and resistance to tarnish. Silver is appreciated in more of a contemporary view, with its sleek, cool look and hypoallergenic quality. However, these conceptualizations of the metals only scratch the surface of their deeper meaning. The significance of gold and silver in fashion is much more nuanced when analyzing their complex and diverse history.
The use of gold and silver in fashion and adornment has deep historical roots, originating in South and East Asia and Africa and moving westward over time as groups migrated across the world. While the significance of metals across cultures shares many similar themes, diverse applications have made their use unique to each tradition, culture, and continent. Exploring the origins of precious metals in fashion reveals the starting point of these meanings, from which the varying modern meanings and uses of gold and silver then unfold.
South and East Asian and African societies were the first to incorporate metals into adornment. Over 3000 years ago, the first man-made metallic fibers were created with silver and gold, manipulating and incorporating metal alloys into clothing fabrics. Gold and silver wire were beaten thin and drawn into a fine thread-like substance, which was then used to decorate garments or blended into cotton or silk to create lamé fabric.
The workmanship and cost required of this process made these fibers a statement of luxury, power, and wealth.
The metallic fabrics were superior structurally and visually, with their strong, conductive properties and lustrous, eye-catching appearance. They were initially incorporated into clothing through embellished elements on garments, headdresses, scarves, and belts. Singaporean societies specifically used these metallic threads to embroider their clothing, also incorporating precious gemstones into the designs to complete the look.
The incorporation of precious metals in clothing techniques mirrored the existing traditions and meanings held by gold and silver jewelry. The oldest recorded African, Middle Eastern, Asian, and Indian jewelry traditions feature the use of gold and silver beaded jewelry, cuffs and bracelets, hoops and dangling earrings, pendants and charms, chains, shoulder and hair ornaments, anklets, rings, and more. Owning and wearing these items was also a sign of wealth, power, and sophistication in such societies.
Indian societies specifically have always used gold jewelry as an intrinsic part of their culture. While gold was initially just valued as an investment for wealth, it eventually became associated with good fortune. Wearable gold was therefore a must-have adornment, with importance set on the craftsmanship, detail, and meaning behind the pieces as they were bought and passed down through generations.
Gold historically symbolizes eternity, often worn by and buried with the societal elite because of its high value and resistance to decay. Silver has also been historically highly valued, symbolizing wisdom, luck, and protection against evil.
The historical comparison of silver and gold is quite interesting. Societies valued the metals differently for their religious, cultural, and fiscal significance. These opinions changed with time and accessibility, too. For example, in ancient Egypt - one of the most well-recorded
societies that prominently used precious metals - there was a shift in preference from silver to gold over time, allegedly due to resource availability.
Ancient Egyptian society was one of the first on record to value gold as a symbol of wealth, power, and status. It was considered the metal of the gods and was used in jewelry and garments to adorn the upper class. Mesopotamian societies in modern-day Turkey, however, preferred silver, extracting it from lead to create currency, small statues, and rings.
Records of various African, Middle Eastern, and Asian societies also depict royalty and elite members of society wearing metallic jewelry and clothing embellished with gold. These
Fast forward to a more modern day, the world (and its gold and silver production) became industrialized in the 19th and 20th centuries. Metallic jewelry and fabric became more accessible, but not at the expense of their original connotations.
occurrences were over 500 years before similar behaviors were adopted in Grecian and Roman European societies. Silver was also often highly regarded in these societies, and was used to make jewelry, accessories, and ceremonial objects.
From this starting point, the ideologies and values surrounding precious metals further developed. The metals solidified their prominent place in fashion through their adornment of royalty and the social elite, becoming important in reinforcing social and religious hierarchy, status, political influence, and the concept of an idyllic life.
As fashion technology advanced into the 1930s and 40s, metallic fabrics started to incorporate plastic fibers, creating imitation gold and silver materials that were stronger and more versatile. Metallic gowns and accessories were fashionably adopted in Hollywood, heavily worn and endorsed by celebrities whose influence further solidified the societal value of such metals. Gold and silver clothing was
a symbol of superiority, glamour, and sophistication in modern American society, much resembling its historical roots in non-eurocentric cultures.
Since then, metallic elements have consistently appeared in important fashion and cultural moments. In the fashion movements of the late 20th century, metals began to be used in a more provocative fashion, with subcultures using jewelry in new ways to create trends that went against the existing norms. For example, larger and edgier silver jewelry pieces were used in punk rock and alternative styles in the 1980s. In a similar vein, large decorative gold brooches were also popularized in the 80s, providing a bold contrast to create a statement in one’s look. While these two trends may seem completely different, their underlying purpose of using precious metals to stand out and demonstrate meaning through style is one and the same.
Today, gold and silver clothing and jewelry seem to be more of a laidback element in our collective fashion portfolio as a global society. Gold and silver have become much more available and affordable resources, and faux materials make identical copies of true metallic materials in clothing and jewelry.
While fine jewelry is still considered a sign of luxury and opulence, the metals have been incorporated more casually into our everyday wear. From delicate, dainty jewelry and accessories to bold metallic statement pieces, street fashion around the world differs based on personal preferences and cultural trends. Groups and individuals often still display their preferences between the two metals, or, more modernly, have opted to mix metals for a fresh look.
As for metallic clothing, metallic threads, embroidery, and fabrics have been popularized, along with metallic
embellishments like sequins, beads, foil, chainmail, and more.
Reflecting on modern uses of silver and gold, it is fascinating to look back at the cultures and history that shape current trends and behaviors. Making note of the history of these precious metals helps us recognize the broad and international cultural background that led to their aesthetic value in today’s contemporary fashion. All of the metallic fashion trends we see today can be traced back to important cultural origins rooted in both vanity and value, encapsulating a rich niche in fashion history.
The consistent presence of silver and gold in fashion proves the universal allure of metals in human society, solidifying their existence as a timeless element in fashion. Contemporary uses are influenced by diverse traditions, renewing old trends and ideologies in ways that fit the development of today’s society. Modern use of gold and silver may seem Westernized,
commercialized, and generalized at face value, but their significance and intrinsic value are a strong nod to how past social and cultural values have grown and changed into what they are today.
By examining the history of the precious metals and what they represent both in the past and present, one main thing is certain - gold and silver certainly make a statement in fashion, shining brilliantly despite the wear time.
Courtesy of Harper’s Bazaar, Antique Jewelry University, Ragya Jewels, FIT Newsroom, Science Direct
by Lily Legere
In the highly competitive world of art and fashion, Jean-Yves Kouassi and Gaston Ouedraogo take an unconventional approach. Through their brand, Djainin, they aim to make a noncompetitive, collaborative space for creators and designers, where they can express their appreciation for West African culture and streetwear. Kouassi, with little experience but lots of passion for the fashion industry, founded his brand in 2022, drawing inspiration from the vibrant nature of Ivorian street style. His brand aimed to represent the rich culture and history of Côte d’Ivoire, which, despite the turbulent conditions of surrounding West African countries, found itself persisting and thriving in a post-independence golden age. After pouring countless hours into his passion project, he recognized the need for support in growing his vision. Kouassi partnered with codesigner Gaston Ouedraogo, forming a formidable creative team.
“Our clothes are real pieces of history in our eyes. It’s the alignment of our two creative minds that creates the magic,” Kouassi told Dola in a 2024 interview—a platform that sells products by African designers and publishes blogs showcasing their stories.
Djainin’s inaugural collection centered on a crucial figure: Marie Thérèse Houphouët-Boigny, Côte d’Ivoire’s first First Lady. A fashion icon and pillar of poise and grace, Houphouët-Boigny represented what the brand aimed to encompass. She is a source of pride for many Ivorians, with her monumental contributions to health, wellness, and education for countless children across the continent. The line’s tribute to Houphët-Boigny, using screen printing and sun drying techniques, featured repeating patterns of her iconic portrait across various denim pieces. This distinctive design gained recognition, catapulting Djainin into the public
eye, and securing its place in Abidjan Fashion Week.
With “New Future” as its mantra, Djainin’s historically appreciative, yet modern style fits in seamlessly with the first-ever Abidjan Fashion Week’s core vision. Held in October 2024, the event featured Djainin’s models on the runway, but its purpose extended beyond showcasing fashion. At its core, the event aimed to unite designers nationwide to breathe new life into Côte d’Ivoire’s fashion industry.
“It’s a crossroads where talent, passion, and commitment meet to celebrate not only aesthetics but also the ideas, voices, and cultures that shape our industry,” explained Georgette Griffit, cofounder of Abidjan Fashion Week, in an interview with Africa News Agency about the event.
Beyond the event, Djainin continues this synergistic mission through its studio, Blu Lab. This space’s minimalistic design displays clothing in a museumlike fashion, drawing attention to the true artistry and beauty of each garment. Though originally opened by Djainin’s codesigners, Blu Lab is home to a myriad of Ivorian-based brands including Free the Youth, Mayeti, and Bana Bana. The appeal does not end here; beyond becoming a collaborative space for designers, Blu Lab opens its doors for workshops, talks, and exhibitions. It’s a space where people are encouraged to learn.
In March 2024, Djainin released its second line: Akan Roots and Sawfish. This collection draws inspiration from the vibrant textiles common in Akan culture–a matrilineal tradition on Africa’s west coast characterized by a shared religion, language, and society–and represents resilience and strength through the sign of the sawfish. Once again, Kouassi and Ouedraogo
flawlessly combined their unique and futuristic vision with thoughtful homage to their country’s rich history. They continue to push the boundaries of fashion as they expand their scope and pursue their mission of teaching others to embrace their diverse and introspective styles.
Courtesy of Djainin, InStyle, Nataal, The Dola, and Africa News Agency
by Keira Peters
The Maasai people of East Africa are often recognized worldwide for their distinctive dress and traditional jumping dances, but this surface-level familiarity can overshadow their complex and sophisticated culture. With a population of over one million across Kenya and Tanzania, the Maasai are a seminomadic ethnic group whose rich traditions extend far beyond the common tourist snapshots.
The Maasai are a Nilotic ethnic group residing in East Africa, namely in Kenya and Tanzania. In Maasai society, clothing and adornment serve as a sophisticated social language. Each piece of jewelry, choice of fabric, and style of dress communicates specific information about an individual’s place within the community - from their age and marital status to their social standing and role. This intricate visual communication system reflects the depth and complexity of Maasai cultural traditions that have evolved over generations.
Young boys in the Maasai tribe wear clothes tied over one shoulder, typically in a single color. Starting around age 6, the boys carry wooden sticks called fimbos, which serve as both fighting and walking sticks. Before adolescence, the clothing remains similar for these
boys. The fimbos grow longer to accommodate their increasing height, and their sandals are usually crafted from recycled rubber tires.
When a boy reaches adolescence, he undergoes the circumcision ritual known as the Emorata ceremony. This marks the transition from boyhood to manhood. Upon preparation to become a warrior, young men wear black cloaks and ostrich feather headdresses. They also paint symbols on their faces using white soil. The color black signifies unity and prepares them for the struggles they will face. After transitioning into a warrior, known as the Morani, men wear two pieces of
cloth, predominantly red. One piece is draped around the shoulders, while the other crosses over the right shoulder and is secured with a belt around the waist.
The elders of the Maasai tribe wear two to three pieces of cloth. These garments are a darker shade of red, with one piece wrapped around the waist and another draped across the right shoulder. The shuka, a cloth with a checkerboard pattern, can also be draped over the shoulders for warmth.
The role of women within Maasai culture is similarly defined through dress, adornment, and additional layers of clothing. Young girls, up to
three or four, wear a single piece of clothing tied at the right shoulder. A shuka can also be wrapped around the shoulders to protect them from the cold. This garment is similar to what young Maasai boys wear. Teenage girls wear two pieces of clothing. One is worn around the waist and fastened with a belt, while the other is draped around the right shoulder. These garments are typically red and blue. In Maasai culture, red symbolizes bravery, unity, and blood, while blue represents the sacred, holy, energy, and the sky.
Like many other cultures, the Maasai have traditional attire for weddings. Brides wear a red or orange dress
adorned with shimmering metal embellishments to create intricate patterns. The jewelry, primarily white, is crafted by the bride’s mother. The colors and patterns of the beads often represent the bride’s family and clan. The pregnancy status of a woman is also reflected in Maasai clothing. Pregnant women wear garments in red, yellow, green, purple, and white, with hints of black. A red shuka is wrapped around the woman’s body to protect the baby and provide strength to the woman during her pregnancy.
Elders wear simpler clothing, usually in red, blue, or purple. Their shukas and beadwork tend to be more elaborate, often accompanied by headdresses and staff decorations. These items symbolize the wisdom, experience, and authority of the elders.
While clothing plays a significant role, beaded jewelry holds deep cultural significance in Maasai culture, particularly for women. The art of making jewelry is passed down from mothers to daughters. More elaborate jewelry indicates greater wealth and age. Jewelry is often presented during ceremonies and rites of passage and given to visiting tourists as a sign of gratitude and respect. This sale of Maasai materials provides an important source of income for the Maasai communities, as they sell their products to visitors and expand the reach of their culture.
GEORGE Editor-in-Chief, Nneoma Iloeje, recounts her time with the Maasai people during her vacation to Tanzania this past summer. “They are incredibly welcoming. During my trip, I had the chance to purchase a beautiful, oneof-a-kind beaded necklace, a hallmark of their craftsmanship. It was truly an unforgettable experience.”
The colors of the beads carry symbolic meanings: red represents bravery and unity; orange represents hospitality; yellow represents fertility and growth; green is associated with health and the land; blue represents energy and sustenance from the sky; and black reflects the people and the struggles
they endure.
The emphasis on beadwork and patterns has not remained static. Maasai traditional wear has also evolved with modern influences. Maasai designers now incorporate shuka patterns into various clothing items and accessories. This fusion highlights their culture while embracing contemporary lifestyles.
The Maasai’s sophisticated system of dress and adornment represents generations of cultural knowledge, serving both practical and social purposes in their communities. Their clothing and jewelry aren’t simply decorative - they’re a living language that communicates personal histories, family ties, and social responsibilities. Understanding this deeper significance helps challenge superficial stereotypes and reveals the Maasai’s enduring influence as one of East Africa’s most prominent indigenous cultures.
Courtesy of 100 Humanitarians International and personal testimonies from the Masaai people located in Tanzania
How does the diversity within your organization shape its creative vision and encourage forms of selfexpression? Can you share a recent fashion project that was influenced by this diversity?
“At Vanderbilt Fashion Week (VFW), the diversity within our team forms the foundation of our creative vision. The 2025 team is comprised of 45 talented and passionate individuals, each bringing unique perspectives shaped by their diverse majors, cultural backgrounds, and campus involvement. These members are divided into seven specialized teams—Advertising, Photography & Film, Corporate Sponsorship, Events & Sustainability, Modeling, Beauty, and Styling & Garments—based on their unique skill sets. This structure allows for fresh ideas, innovative solutions, and a collaborative energy that makes our environment both inclusive and forward-thinking. By celebrating individuality and promoting nonconformity, we create a space where every member feels empowered to share their story and explore their creative potential. This diversity defines our community, drives authenticity, and shapes the creative vision behind our events.
A great representation of this was the 2024 Future of Fashion Show, a highlight of VFW 2024. The show featured 15 global designers and a diverse cast of 48 student models, reflecting a wide range of sizes, races, and heights. This inclusivity was central to the show’s success and left a lasting impression on our audience. My partner, Logan Gaskin, and VFW 2025’s Producer captures this beautifully:”
One of the most inspiring aspects of Vanderbilt Fashion Week (VFW) is its organic celebration of diversity. When recruiting for VFW, we don’t seek out a specific ‘type’ of person or idea; instead,
Hi, my name is Kiki Baumgartner, and I am a sophomore in GWFBA. I interviewed students from six renowned universities with highly respected fashion programs: NYU, Yale, Northeastern, Stanford, Vanderbilt, and the University of South Carolina. The purpose of these interviews was not to compare and contrast the fashion at these schools but to understand how the individuals within these institutions shape their program’s creative vision and foster a level of global cultural inclusivity through their projects.
These interviewees, whom you will get to know throughout the GEORGE Magazine, are incredible writers who help readers develop an appreciation for fashion beyond the surface level. Their work demonstrates how garments inspired by cultures from around the world can interconnect and introduce society to diverse backgrounds.
Shot by Ethan Valliath
what emerges is a beautifully woven creative vision, with each individual contributing something unique to the team. Together, we form a vibrant quilt of creatives from all facets of fashion, each adding a piece of themselves to the organization.
A clear example of this is the models featured in the 2024 Future of Fashion Show. At VFW, we recruit models based on two key criteria: coachability and
confidence. This approach naturally fosters diversity, with our models representing a wide range of sizes, races, and heights. Fashion is for everyone, and showcasing a diverse set of models is essential to reflect this truth.
As a tall, Black, plus-size woman, I understand the profound impact of not seeing yourself represented on runways. This personal experience motivated me, as the Modeling Team Lead last year, to ensure that no one in the audience felt excluded. After the show, I heard countless attendees comment on how the diversity of our models was unlike anything they had seen before and how deeply it resonated with them. VFW remains committed to fostering this inclusivity and will continue to celebrate diversity in all future fashion shows.
Do you think fashion as a whole promotes global inclusion and helps educate people about different cultures and backgrounds? Have you observed a recent trend toward cultural fusion in clothing and designs?
“Fashion is a reflection of culture, and it often serves as a bridge between identities, communities, and traditions. When approached with intentionality,
fashion can be an excellent medium for educating people about different cultures and fostering global inclusion. However, it’s crucial for designers and consumers to engage with cultural references thoughtfully. Incorporating elements of a culture into clothing and designs should come with acknowledgment, respect, and a desire to celebrate the artistry and heritage of that culture, rather than appropriating or rebranding it without credit.
Recently, there has been a trend toward cultural fusion in fashion, where designers draw inspiration from diverse cultural legacies to create something new and exciting. When done respectfully, this fusion has the power to highlight the beauty of multiculturalism and share stories of ancestry and heritage, offering a sense of belonging and connection to wearers and audiences alike.
Logan Gaskin, VFW 2025’s Producer, emphasizes the importance of representation in fashion as a tool for inclusion:
Fashion is a pure form of connection—a visual medium that doesn’t need language to convey its message. It has the power to celebrate the legacies of different cultures and highlight their stories on a global stage. But with this power comes responsibility: designers must craft with intentionality and respect to ensure that fashion fosters connection rather than division.
At its best, fashion is more than a visual statement; it’s a tool for storytelling and cross-cultural dialogue. By celebrating diversity and promoting awareness, fashion can bring people together from opposite corners of the world and serve as a platform for shared understanding and appreciation.”
Who is your favorite fashion designer, and where are they from/where do they get their inspiration from?
“My favorite fashion designer at the moment is Daniel Roseberry, who hails from Plano, Texas. I’m captivated by his work as the Artistic Director at Schiaparelli. His vivid, imaginative, and surrealist designs leave a lasting
impression, pushing the boundaries of creativity and craftsmanship.
I also admire how he navigated his career and unconventional journey in the fashion industry—his role at Schiaparelli was only his second job in fashion, following a decade of invaluable experience at Thom Browne. It’s fascinating that despite not speaking French, he communicates with the Schiaparelli team through his drawings, which showcases his exceptional ability to express ideas visually. This beautifully demonstrates that fashion is a visual medium that transcends language, relying purely on creativity and connection to bring ideas to life.”
Fashion predictions for 2025: Sophia believes there will be a greater “shift towards sustainable fashion” in 2025 as more people become aware of the harmful effects of fast fashion. She cautions against participating in the “culture of overconsumption” promoted by the media, which contributes to “over 13 million tons of global textile waste annually.” Instead, she advocates for thrifting and supporting brands that “prioritize eco-friendly materials, innovative production methods, and ethical labor practices,” emphasizing these choices as essential for the “longevity” and “creativity” of the future.
Sophia Arnold is a junior from Indiana majoring in Psychology and minoring in Human and Organizational Development—fields that allow her to connect her academics with her “extracurricular exploration of how fashion can serve as a powerful tool for identity, community, and inclusivity.” She serves as the Director of Vanderbilt Fashion Week (VFW), which was founded by Lauren Parker in 2022. VFW is a sustainable fashion week where Sophia leads “45 talented individuals to create innovative, sustainable, and community-focused fashion events,” embedding global designers into Nashville’s community to promote “collaboration and inclusivity.”
Sophia’s interest in fashion was ignited by a combination of her admiration for the “creative processes” in Project Runway and the constraints her boarding school uniform placed on her self-expression. While her boarding school did not fully allow her to immerse herself in her love of fashion, she appreciates the skills she developed there, which have contributed to her success in her leadership role for VFW. After graduating from high school, Sophia embraced the opportunities on campus to transform her previous constraints into ways to find her “identity through fashion.” She values comfort and sustainable clothing, helping her to “align [her] external appearance with [her] internal sense of self.”
Sophia further explored her relationship with fashion when she joined the Beauty Team of Vanderbilt Fashion Week as a freshman, foreshadowing her roles as the Beauty Team Lead in 2023 and CoDirector of VFW with Matti Angelides in 2024. Their 2024 Future of Fashion show “featured 15 global designers, a diverse cast of 48 student models, and 200 attendees.” Sophia deeply values her involvement with VFW, stating that it “has not only deepened [her] passion for fashion but has also shown [her] how it can connect people, build community, and inspire sustainable practices.”
by Charlotte
Mainstream media often centers on Eurocentric wedding fashion, overshadowing the rich diversity of traditional wedding attire from cultures around the world. Upon typing the phrase “wedding attire” into Google, thousands of images portraying white, flowy dresses and slick, black tuxedos flood one’s screen. Yet, the stunning beauty of Japanese kimonos, Indian lehengas, Chinese Qun Kwas, Ethiopian Habesha kemis, and handmade garments from Indigenous tribes are nowhere to be found. These vibrant, culturally significant garments deserve as much recognition and celebration as their Western counterparts. By shifting focus from “normative” Western wedding fashion to the diversity of wedding attire across a multitude of cultures, we can restructure the narrow-minded definition of what wedding fashion looks like.
At traditional Japanese weddings, brides often wear a variety of exquisite kimonos, each with its own unique beauty and significance. Among these, one of the most iconic bridal garments is the Shiromuku (translating to “pure white”), a stunning all-white kimono made from luxurious silk. The Shiromuku is known for its simplicity and elegance, with intricate embroidered accents that add depth and beauty to the fabric. While traditionally pure white to symbolize purity and new beginnings, some brides choose to personalize their Shiromuku by incorporating subtle hints of color, such as soft shades of pink or red, to reflect their style and add a touch of warmth to the otherwise serene look. Another popular choice for the traditional Japanese bride is the Irouchikake kimono, a stunningly colorful and patterned garment. The eyecatching hues of the Iro-uchikake are created using the ancient art of Yuzen dyeing, a meticulous technique that involves the application of rice paste to fabric before dyeing.
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According to Japan Dream Wedding, “The Iro-uchikake was originally the formal attire for wives of samurais in the Muromachi period…they gradually came to be preferred by rich merchants and aristocrats during the Edo period and are now one of the most popular styles of traditional dress…”
Kimonos also hold great ancestral value in Japanese culture as many are passed down across generations. These garments are a beautiful blend of art, history, and sentimental value. The
grooms’ outfits, though less detailed, incorporate traditional elements of kimono attire as well. The groom wears a black haori, a formal kimono jacket, paired with a silk cord known as a haorihimo. Other accessories include an obi (belt), zori shoes, and a fan. An heirloom crest serves as the finishing touch to the outfit—piecing it all together.
At traditional Indian weddings, brides typically don elaborate garments like lehengas or sarees. A lehenga consists of a long, embellished skirt
paired with a matching blouse (choli) and a decorative scarf (dupatta). Alternatively, the saree is a long piece of fabric, elegantly draped around the body. Both outfits are made from luxurious fabrics like silk and adorned with intricate embroidery, beads, and sequins, representing the rich cultural heritage and beauty of the occasion.
Courtesy of @tokiyajapan 2002 17th St NW Washington, DC 20009
As Crystal View states, “Unlike Western weddings, you won’t see an Indian bride wearing white as it symbolizes mourning.”
The significance of color in Indian bridal attire goes beyond aesthetics, carrying deep cultural and symbolic meaning. Red draws connections to the astrological significance of Mars, which promotes fertility, good fortune, and prosperity in marriage. Other colors that the bride may wear include yellow, pink, brown, gold, and orange. Beyond attire, intricate traditions enhance the bridal look. Before a wedding ceremony, henna is often applied to the feet and hands,
symbolizing good luck and positive spirits. Gold jewelry serves as the focal point of the bride’s adornments, with elaborate combinations of necklaces, earrings, bangles, and Maang tikkas— an ornament worn on the forehead— completing the ensemble.
The groom’s attire is similarly rooted in tradition, typically consisting of either a Bandhgala suit or a Sherwani. The Bandhgala, a structured, collared jacket typically paired with tailored trousers, is also known as the Jodhpuri suit—so named because, as Brides explains, it “was born in the princely state of Jodhpur in the 19th century.” Meanwhile, the Sherwani, a long,
buttoned coat, is traditionally worn with fitted churidar trousers, creating a regal and sophisticated look. To complete the look, grooms decorate themselves with carefully selected accessories. The groom’s accessories include Sarpechs or Kilangis— decorative ornaments embellished with a mixture of feathers and diamonds—placed on turbans. Over the years, grooms have taken a more active role in curating their wedding attire. As Brides notes, “It’s a myth that the groom is limited by choice in comparison to [the] bride. There are various modern takes on traditional Indian wear available now…grooms themselves have honed their fashion
sensibilities, no longer afraid to step out of the mold for their celebrations.”
In Ethiopia, traditional brides commonly choose to opt for dresses known as Habesha kemis. These are long dresses, handwoven from pieces of cotton sewn together. Oftentimes, kemis have personalized details on them—called Tibeb—that are woven on with threads. For Shewa styles of kemis, these details are typically embroidered on the waist, cuffs, or bottom of dresses. For Gondar styles, however, the embroidery is visible on the bottom back of the dress. Given that kemis are made by hand it can take up to three weeks to finish one. Women also typically add Netelas to complete the look, which are a type of scarf that also has Tibeb on the outer rims to pair with the kemis. The Tibeb can be more simplistic with one color or can feature a range of different colors and patterns. A majority of women wear two Netelas, draping them over their head and shoulders.
When it comes to grooms, they typically wear traditional Ethiopian suits, common for formal events. The elements of these suits include long-sleeved jackets, matching pants, and knee-length shirts. Made from chiffon, the suits are both light and elegant, while the undershirts often feature a Mandarin, band, or Nehru collar. To add the final touch to their wedding ensemble, grooms may accessorize with additional Neteles or Kutas, which are types of scarves.
This rich diversity in wedding attire highlights the unique cultural expressions found across the globe. While this article touches upon only some of the many forms of wedding fashions across the world, it is crucial that we expand our knowledge in order to challenge our conventional perspectives. By expanding our view to encompass wedding traditions from diverse cultures, we can shed light on the beauty and artistry of wedding fashion beyond the Western scope, reshaping our stringent definition of it.
Courtesy of The Knot, Brides, Lin and Jirsa, Mohi, Japan Dream Wedding, IKEHIKO Japan, Crystal View, and Kyoto Kimono
How does the diversity within your organization shape its creative vision and encourage forms of selfexpression? Can you share a recent fashion project that was influenced by this diversity?
“Diversity in our organization shapes creative vision because everybody has their own unique upbringing and everyone thinks in different ways. Because of that, people tend to develop their own personal style and their individual ways of viewing fashion. When you have an environment where there are so many different ideas and inspirations being bounced around, it really maximizes the creative vision of the community as a whole. Each year, we host a completely studentrun spring fashion show, and diversity plays a huge part in this event because it brings variety. Although there are common themes in each subsection of the show (our shows are formatted with a common theme that has four subsections relating to it), committee members will have their own way of viewing the theme; models have their own ideas of what their walk or pose should look like, stylists have their own visions of how their outfits represent the theme, and more. Because of this variety, the show becomes extremely interesting because you never know what’s coming next.”
Who is your favorite fashion designer, and where are they from/where do they get their inspiration from?
“Rei Kawakubo, founder of Comme des Garcons, was one of the first people that I discovered when getting into Japanese fashion and I love her work because of the way that she experiments with shapes in her designs.”
Fashion Predictions for 2025: Yuan has not been following trends recently, but is hopeful that his basketball shoes will start reemerging because they are “very important to [his] relationship with fashion.”
Do you think fashion as a whole promotes global inclusion and helps educate people about different cultures and backgrounds? Have you observed a recent trend toward cultural fusion in clothing and designs?
“I think that fashion promotes global inclusion when creativity is being used to its max, since the fashion scene as a whole tends to generally have a spotlight more on cultures in America, Western Europe, and Japan. When creativity is being used to the
max, though, you get to see insanely cool outfits such as Mongolia’s 2024 Olympics uniform. This allows people to become more educated about different cultures and backgrounds as well, since they get to see how amazing every culture can be.”
Shot by Kevin Theodat @stateofother
Yuan is a junior from New Jersey majoring in Computer Engineering at Northeastern University. He is also the vice president of The Fashion Society at Northeastern.
Yuan’s interest in fashion was sparked by the music and art his brother introduced him to, particularly rappers from the early 2010s. This influence inspired his love for “skate culture” and streetwear, paving the way for his future passion “for all areas of fashion.”
Fashion brands, styles, and trends from the West are often highlighted in mainstream media, saturating our feeds and newsletters with these influences. Fashion weeks showcase “new” and “trending” elements like intricate embroidery; elaborate, vibrant colors; dazzling fabrics, and unique, diverse patterns. Yet, many so-called new Western trends are anything but new. They originate from the longstanding traditions of various non-Western cultures. The West continuously draws inspiration from these influences, often without recognition. So, who is the notso-secret muse behind Western fashion?
Western fashion has been shaped by a multitude of cultural influences, with elements from Asia, Africa, and the Middle East making bold statements in modern style. Textiles such as India’s cotton, China’s silk, and Middle Eastern brocades form the foundation of fashion. Traditional patterns, including India’s paisley, Japan’s floral motifs, and Africa’s geometric designs, continue to inspire designers today. Silhouettes like Middle Eastern kaftans, India’s A-line neckline, and Japan’s kimonostyle wrap dress have seamlessly been integrated into Western wardrobes. Accessories also reflect this influence, with Africa’s beaded necklaces, the Middle East’s hamsa hand and evil eye jewelry, and India’s ornate headdresses all making an impact. The list of non-Western traditions shaping contemporary style is endless. In fact, many of these elements have become part of everyday trends. Recently, hand chains and chima skirts, both rooted in Asian culture, have gained popularity. Hand chains, originating in India but also significant in the Middle East, have become a staple accessory, while the flowing, high-waisted chima skirt, which comes from Korean culture, is making waves in fashion. When looking closely, it’s clear that much of today’s apparel and its designs can be traced back to non-Western origins, showing just how deeply these influences are woven into modern fashion.
A notable example comes from the 1970s, a time when Chinese influence on Western fashion was particularly
by Rita Stein
prominent. After decades of separation, China began opening its doors to the West with a relaxed foreign policy and a growing emphasis on diplomatic relations. This newly found access to Chinese culture and fashion intrigued the West. This fascination was evident with the Mao suit, a tunic featuring a high collar, four (sometimes five) symmetrical pockets, five buttons, and a boxy, utilitarian silhouette, which made its way into the pages of Vogue in 1973. There are actually quite a few more Vogue issues showcasing the impact Chinese culture had at this time! The Qipao, a form-fitting, elegant dress complete with beautiful embroidery and alluring side slits made a striking impression as well. This period of influence, often referred to as “Chinoiserie”, dates back to the 17th century. While the term itself is neutral and refers to Chinese inspiration, it is also linked to the era of colonialism and cultural appropriation, with elements taken out of their original context. Chinese culture was exoticized and romanticized, with colonizers creating stereotypes that inaccurately represented the culture. This occurred largely due to the lack of accurate information available when the term “Chinoiserie” was coined, leading people to rely on secondhand accounts of “the East.” This led to depictions that were rooted in fantasy rather than reality, with design elements featuring whimsical patterns detached from their true origins and context.
This wave of interest in Chinese fashion during the 1970s highlights a broader issue about how cultures are borrowed, often without proper acknowledgment.
This raises the question: When does inspiration become appropriation? It is important to acknowledge the distinct differences between appreciation and appropriation. As previously mentioned, during periods of colonization, the West often failed to give credit where it was due, resulting in a significant lack of understanding of cultural significance. Nowadays, brands continue to profit from nonWestern elements while neglecting to acknowledge their true origins. This is how cultural appropriation, rather than appreciation, is perpetuated in the fashion industry. On the other hand, appreciation means showing respect, giving credit, and involving partnership. When incorporating elements of another culture into your work, it is important to not only understand but also actively seek to learn about the history and context behind what you’re drawing inspiration from. Being able to know the background of the incorporated elements shows that you hold genuine respect towards the traditions, values, and history of the said culture and are taking the time to recognize the pieces you are integrating, rather than just taking it for surface level, aesthetic means. Additionally, partnership and collaboration have the power to bridge and unite communities and bring positive awareness to certain cultures, not to mention the potential economic benefits it may have for certain communities.
While non-Western influence in Western fashion has a troubling history rooted in colonialism, recent shifts driven by globalization and the evolving presence of the digital world have fostered more positive change. Though globalization has its cons, it has also allowed for a greater exchange of diverse fashion traditions, giving underrepresented cultures a platform to share their unique styles with a global audience. That is a beautiful thing! When this cultural fusion meets fashion, it encourages and celebrates diversity. Especially considering the digital revolution over the past few decades, designers, influencers, and consumers can now exchange ideas and showcase their artistry, ultimately
influencing the cross-cultural trends we see more prominently today.
Social media, online marketplaces, and fashion blogs are great mediums that facilitate this. Platforms such as Instagram and TikTok are extremely powerful tools where one can make a post that can go viral, reaching thousands, if not millions, of people on a global scale. These platforms enable direct communication between creators and consumers, allowing individuals to bypass once-existing limitations. Fashion, once limited to the traditional print media, has been liberated by this social media flux, eradicating the boundaries that once limited its reach.
Non-Western influence is not a trend that seems to come and go but rather a fundamental element woven through the fabric of Western fashion’s evolution. The history clearly reveals the undeniable power and impact the non-West has. The increasing interconnectedness of the world, fueled by the digital revolution, gives way to exciting possibilities for the future of fashion where we can share and pay tribute to our cultures. Through genuine appreciation and openness, we can move towards a world of vibrant, diverse, and innovative styles, while still honoring the sources they come from. It is important to give credit where it is due so we can celebrate one another and our unique cultures. As we explore the future of fashion, let us be reminded that it is a shared future, one where our diverse cultures have the power to shape and foster a global fashion landscape built on mutual appreciation and ever-evolving style.
Courtesy of LinkedIn, ResearchGate, and Psychology Today
An
Interview
by
Alex Marootian and Ethan Valliath
Sylwia Nazzal and her brand, Nazzal Studio, are a testament to the magnetic pull of Palestinian art and culture. With the release of her debut collection—and her college senior thesis—Nazzal quickly gained international recognition for her work, which fuses Palestinian tradition, politics, and avant-garde aesthetics. Since this interview in October 2024, she has won the Fashion Trust Arabia’s Best Debut Talent award, received major press coverage from outlets like Vogue and Dazed, and seen her designs worn by celebrities like Saint Levant, marking a remarkably successful year. In this conversation, Nazzal reflects on her Palestinian identity, the political nature of her designs, and the importance of embracing one’s own culture. Her work offers a singular perspective on the Palestinian struggle, capturing both its pain and beauty. Thank you to Sylwia for her time—we’re excited to see what’s next for Nazzal Studio.
Alex: Where did you grow up and when did you start becoming interested in fashion?
Sylwia: I was born and raised in Amman, Jordan. My family is Palestinian and immigrated to Jordan where I was born and raised. To be honest, I always wanted to go into a creative field and I didn’t necessarily know fashion would be the one. I kind of switched every year or two from interior design, architecture, acting, and arts. I was always playing around with the idea of creativity. And then at the last minute, I was like, you know what? I’ll do fashion. I actually started in fashion business and then I switched after the first week of university to fashion design because, I don’t know, I think I realized somewhere in that moment that I couldn’t continue the rest of my university years in business. I needed to go full out and I had no idea about sewing or anything like that. I was kind of just spontaneous and once I started sewing, I realized, you know, I’m actually kind of good at this and I do love doing this and I could see myself doing this for the rest of my life.
Alex: How do you think your Palestinian heritage has affected your creative output?
Sylwia: It’s a bit of a story because in university I didn’t even know I wanted to go into political fashion or art in general. [During] COVID, I regained this love for my culture. There were moments of me as a teenager despising a bit of my culture and my heritage, and then, in 2020 and COVID, it flipped completely. I became obsessed with my culture and heritage and literally couldn’t even imagine the way I felt before or why I was feeling those things. When I started university, I was just creating art, but inherently it was all political and I didn’t realize it yet. And then, there was a project that we had to do in our first year about using our traditional garments, mixing [them] with different designers, and finding a way to create something new. So I was looking into the thawb and I actually took a tent apart, re-patterned it with a different fabric, and re-stitched it into a jacket. [It was] a whole sculpture piece.
That project really shaped me, because it made me realize how much I wanted to talk about my culture and how I view it. Even the fact that I was talking about refugees and trying to represent that in some way through fashion…it really sparked something for me.
So I always knew my senior thesis collection definitely had to be about Palestine and my culture. I spent years thinking about it and wanting to do it. I made the collection in Paris—I studied fashion design in Paris and graduated before October 7th—and [it was a] full collection about Palestine and Palestinian resistance. It was not taken well by my school. I received a lot of intense backlash from everyone: administration, colleagues, classmates. It was bad. I [still] managed to graduate, but looking for a job was difficult with the portfolio of politics I had. And then on top of that, October 7th hit and all of a sudden anyone who opened my portfolio was even more afraid than they were before. So I decided that by December if I [didn’t] have a job, I was going to start my own brand and just create some ethical art. I had always thought this would happen in a couple of years, but I
decided to go down this path because I happened to post something on October 7th about my collection and it went viral. I had no idea what October 7th was or what it was going to be, but it went viral [anyway].
That kind of sparked this ‘wow’ moment. I received so much backlash for the past few years, especially working on this collection that, to my surprise, it had actually been so well received. It opened up a door for me to say maybe it’s not time for me to work for anyone. Maybe I’m supposed to show the things I’ve been working on to the world and show the world what a Middle Eastern Arab creative can do and the spaces that I can infiltrate. I started thinking about it more and then by the time it was March this year I was like I need to go full out. That’s how I got more into the political side.
Ethan: How do you see Jordan and Amman itself reflected in your clothes? Do you find inspiration from what the average person in Jordan wears and do you get inspired from the local creative and cultural scene?
Sylwia: I like seeing how people view our culture because it’s like, ‘Oh, you’re presenting the things we’re used to in a way that’s showcased beautifully.’ I think that in general, it’s inspiring, but I think I get more inspired by, for example, seeing a man in a dishdasha—a type of long dress—on the street and he’s wearing a suit jacket on top paired with an agal [with a] keffiyeh falling into the jacket. Seeing that alone, a man in a traditional dress with a blazer, is so Western. And then another traditional piece on top of the keffiyeh tying into everything— that alone, to me, is so inspiring. I think for me, that’s the fashion sense I would actually take away from the upand-coming scene and actually put more into the everyday dress of how we try to westernize ourselves or use contemporary garments in traditional dress. I love seeing that. So yeah, I think that’s my perspective.
Alex: Tell me about your experience at Parsons Paris, besides what happened with your senior thesis. What was it like going to school? Were you able to explore your Arab identity in Paris, or did you feel stifled in exploring that?
Sylwia: I think it had a fun effect on me where at first I was like, ‘Wow, I’m seeing what fashion looks like in a capital, versus being in the Middle East.’ It was so different—this is not how our lifestyle is at all. We don’t have many big creatives to look up to, except for a select few who were more focused on political and social change. So I think it was such a fun playground for me at first, but then it very quickly switched to me feeling like I needed to hold on even tighter to my identity and my culture. I wanted to represent my culture even more because there was such a lack and I think it pushed me to want it more.
Alex: Let’s get into your senior thesis. What were the overarching ideas you were hoping to communicate?
Sylwia: I think I just wanted to showcase what was happening
in the world, and I wanted to do it in a way that reflected how I view my culture. I think the concept behind it is, I think I target the West a lot. I like to say that I’m speaking the enemy’s language, but I’m also speaking a language that they haven’t infiltrated yet. I’m using a language that I can communicate through, one they understand—fashion, which has been heavily influenced by the West. But then at the same time, it’s a language I don’t think they’ve yet learned to combat.
So I think this was a huge approach for me. One thing I really enjoyed—or rather, the idea of it—was seeing how people react to a giant puffer jacket. At first, they might think, ‘Wow, this is a really cool shape,’ or whatever they feel. If they’re intrigued, they’ll look deeper, and when they do, they’ll see the reference photo of something really brutal and horrific. That completely changes the conversation they’re having with themselves in their heads. It brings up the conversation about Palestine through imagery and symbolism, focusing more on social impact than being [overt or in-your-face]. I think a lot of the time we see the keffiyeh prints or tatreez, which is embroidery, and it’s almost become fashionable. I don’t like that. So I wanted to take a step back and take a new approach, showcasing how to focus your voice, mind, and thoughts on Palestine by using a design you wouldn’t expect to be associated [with it]. But actually, the image it’s compared to is so brutal that it forces you to have that conversation with yourself. I think that’s the core of the collection and how I wanted it to be presented, though there are many details beyond that.”
Alex: That was kind of my next question, you make references to Palestinian culture and traditional Palestinian dress, but like you said, also very specific visual referencing of Palestinian oppression and violence against Palestinians. What was your
journey for finding those references and the transformation of these images and raw emotions into your work?
Sylwia: Yeah, I love that you’re asking me actually because the research took years. I started a year before the collection—2020, 2021—looking at all these images and not realizing [that] they would become references. By 2022, I spent four to five months researching Palestine, which was very difficult. Nowadays I think there’s a lot more accessibility, but then, it was really hard to find things online. I actually found a lot more in books and libraries and things like that. Funny enough, I even found a Chinese book about Palestinian traditional dress that ended up giving me so much information. Then, I took one of my first solo trips to Palestine in 2022.
reasons if that makes sense.
Alex: It seems like a lot of the pieces feature a subversion of Western garments and fabrics, as you mentioned with the giant puffer coat.
How do you think that interplay happens between mainstream Western items of clothing and your Palestinian heritage?
I was speaking to as many people as I could meet, and they showed me a lot of their images that they wanted to share with me for my work. I got a lot of references offbook if that makes sense. [It was] either me taking a photo, people showing me images that they wanted me to see, or books that weren’t able to be sold that I was able to receive. It was very special for me because I felt a deeper connection to my culture, more than I had ever felt before. I spent my whole life knowing I’m Palestinian and hearing from my family how my culture and my heritage [are] important, but I think experiencing it alone and connecting with it and creating a relationship that’s not tied to what I was raised with changed a lot of my collection for me. It made me want to create something so much bigger than myself and dedicate my life and my career to something without selfish
Do you see yourself as subverting these garments with the usage of nonWestern silhouettes, imagery, and visual references or references to oppression?
Sylwia: I think something that’s sad is, especially here in the Middle East, a majority of the time we’re looking to the West for something we think is superior. Even whiteness is considered superior because we’re all viewing things through the Western gaze. Even the puffer jackets I use—though clearly Western garments— carry a deeper meaning. I reference them because of the image of a boy being detained and dragged by his puffer jacket. For me, it’s about the contrast between modernity, represented by these contemporary garments, and tradition. I see resistance in two forms: one is preserving tradition through traditional silhouettes, and the other is resisting occupation by blending the modern with the traditional. It’s about finding a balance between contemporary and traditional garments, a balance that I think a lot of people Westernize, but in some sense, can still be rooted in the East.
Alex: Take me through the development of the coin dress and coin hoodie. How is it constructed and what do you hope to communicate with it?
Sylwia: The concept behind it was to use traditional coins to adorn headpieces and scarves. Essentially, these coins are believed to protect against the evil eye and symbolize wealth, beauty, and protection. I think in a lot of traditional weddings, you’ll see these coins used on garments as both a symbol of beauty and as a form of protection. I originally had the idea
of creating a hijab hoodie with a flat, no-neck shape that mimics the look of a hijab when worn. At first, I thought about adding coins to the border of the hoodie, but while I was thinking about this concept, I was like, ‘That just doesn’t sound like it’s impactful. It just sounds like I’m throwing it on for the sake of tradition.’ And I decided to just go crazy and cover the whole thing with coins. Then it turned into, ‘Maybe I should make it a skirt as well.’ These two pieces combined to create a full Arab silhouette. When I shared the concept with refugee women in Jordan, they were very excited. I think my favorite thing was getting their support for it and
respecting how I was creating my work. It took about 4 or 5 months to create all the coin pieces, but we had no idea how heavy it was going to be. We started with the hoodie, which was fine. 32 kg, but wearable. But then with the added skirt, it became 40 kg. I ended up having to stitch a leather harness to the skirt to hold it up. To stitch it, I needed two people carrying the skirt on the machine. It was a challenge, but[ it turned out to be a] beautiful piece.
Ethan: I find it so interesting how you’re talking about fashion in a modern
sense, especially in terms of the Arab culture and inverting how people incorporate that into fashion today. Do you feel that the way you represent your work—balancing modernity and tradition, not rejecting either but creating a tangible relationship between both—makes it inherently political, especially in the Arab world? Do you feel like that lends itself to being specifically political because of that vision, or is that open to a larger cultural interpretation in the Arab context?
Sylwia: I think this is an interesting topic, because, for example, I’ve noticed some Palestinian designers don’t like
that they are inherently political. Not because they want to be, but because they’re Palestinian and with that, it is associated with politics. I know I’ve experienced telling someone I’m Palestinian and seeing their reaction and me just realizing, you know, this is just my heritage it’s not political in this moment right now. I am political, but this is just where I’m from. So I think in this sense, it can be hard for some young creatives who don’t want their life revolving around politics. Especially [for] Palestinians living in Palestine, creating a brand from there may not always involve constantly sharing or focusing on their everyday political reality. But inherently, their existence as Palestinians living under occupation makes their work political.
So that is one aspect of it. I don’t think Paris or embroidery is political, [but] I think the keffiyeh is. The keffiyeh garnered a lot of solidarity with Palestine and wearing it is largely associated with it. If you are using [it], you are 100% being political. Let’s say even for my pieces, I know I want them to be political. I know I want them to make a statement and I know I want them to also be traditional because
at least for me, resistance is both tradition and these horrific moments. I [personally] don’t think you can talk about Palestine without bringing up the genocide at the same time.
Alex: How do you see trauma and oppression and intergenerational pain specifically as part of your work? Do you feel a responsibility to depict that pain through your clothes? What do you hope to convey with those ideas? Also, I guess getting back into the idea of politics, do you see that pain and that trauma as inherently political, or is there a way to divorce it, and give respect to just the things people have gone through?
Sylwia: I [think] it’s both. I think for me I feel like I have a duty and responsibility, especially because I had the privilege of studying in Paris and I had the privilege of not having to grow up under occupation. And because I was [also] able to hear the stories and be surrounded by Palestinians and Jordanians and young Arabs, it’s a conversation that’s always been brought up and it’s something normal for us. It’s not really like we are political, but having these conversations
growing up and in school was very common and regular for us.
So being surrounded by this privilege, I feel this inherent responsibility, as I am a Palestinian, and I have the talent and skills to send a message that maybe other people [don’t]. I have this internal guilt and responsibility that pushes me to share and create for my culture and for what I believe in. And guilt aside, I am very political and I do like to be opinionated, so I think that also really adds to the way I showcase my work with the world. I think suffering can be political, but at the same time, it’s so unfortunate, just like despair and pain. ‘Unfortunate’ as in, it’s so sad that it’s happening, but then it’s [also] political because it [provokes] so much anger over the injustice and suffering involved. So, in that way, it’s political, if that makes sense.
Alex: We’ll get into something a little lighter. I first saw your work on social media and then, when Michelle Lamy visited your Atelier. What was it like meeting such an icon of this contemporary fashion world and someone who’s been such an open advocate of Palestine?
Sylwia: Honestly, I’m obsessed with Michelle Lamy. I think she’s so cool, and I‘ve thought so for years. When I saw her posting about Palestine, I dreamed of her seeing my work one day. And then, seeing how political she was, I was so surprised that she was so supportive. I think it just made me want to meet her and share my work with her even more. Actually, I met her because she was in Jordan for 3 days and I saw her crossing the street. My heart literally sank, and I parked the car and ran to her in my heels and I was like, ‘Michelle, I love you.’ I was with my boyfriend and he’s also a young Arab artist. He’s incredible. I think you guys should check his work out if you want to see something crazy. It’s @jadmaq. His work is very sculptural. He does a lot of sculptures and paintings, very beautiful, very big.
So anyway, to summarize, we bumped into her, and showed her our work and she came to visit our studio. That to me was just a huge dream come true. It was a seal of approval in a sense. It was such a huge part of my journey and it just made me feel like, ‘OK, I’m going in the right direction.’
Alex: For some final words, if you could tell someone one thing about your clothes and what you hope they take from them, what would it be? And what advice would you give to a young designer looking to express their unique culture through fashion?”
Sylwia: After we hang up, I’m working on editing a video for my collection. I filmed it in the desert and we tried as much as possible to work with friends and bring on a couple of extra people for a team, but pretty much I think all of this is done among the Arab creative youth. The reason I’m bringing it up is because this is the thing that I would want the world to see: young Arab creative youth that don’t have a spotlight, and that includes me and all the people that I’ve worked with on this. I want everyone to see that there’s so much tradition, culture, heritage, and tribal creativity coming out of the Middle East that isn’t exposed [in mainstream media]. I think that’s what I would like to showcase as much as possible to the world. That’s what I
would want people to take away from my clothes and my work.
And then for your second question, if there’s a young creative or designer that wants to reference their culture in their work, the best advice I can give them is to just love the things that they’re used to. I’m used to seeing the thawb hijab, and other traditional elements that the rest of the world isn’t used to. I see it everyday. It’s so easy to look past it because you’re used to it until [you] realize how unfamiliar it is to other people. So I think the advice I would give is just [to] embrace the everyday elements. Especially because we have so many random little details, like putting sewing equipment in a biscuit box. This is a very obvious thing everyone in our culture knows, if you see this box of biscuits and cookies, there are needles inside. These random things are part of our culture. Think about looking for the things that are your normal. You’d be shocked at how abnormal and unfamiliar they can be for others. Find a way to embrace and present it the way you envision.
by Kiki Baumgartner
How does the diversity within your organization shape its creative vision and encourage forms of selfexpression? Can you share a recent fashion project that was influenced by this diversity?
“FashionX has been at the forefront of leading the fashion space on campus. When I initiated the formation of the Culture Team at FashionX, Asukulu (fellow co-director) and I dreamed of a Stanford symposium that touches on the immense influence and impact of culture within fashion. Before we met to come together to launch this initiative, we had already been doing our own things. There was never a central space for students to connect and create community through cultural fashion. Although Stanford isn’t considered a “fashion school” by any means, there are many great talents. Regardless of people’s interest in fashion, we must bring forth people’s backgrounds from the diverse student population. That’s why we’re excited to launch one in the spring. Stay tuned for what’s to come!”
Do you think fashion as a whole promotes global inclusion and helps educate people about different cultures and backgrounds? Have you observed a recent trend toward cultural fusion in clothing and designs?
“It can and it should.I believe we just need to do better on the “how.” Our intentions need to be set and clear. Fashion is one that requires a lot of intentionality. To this day, we’re still debating over appropriation and appreciation in fashion. Therefore, we must learn a lot about the origin stories of such inspirations to uphold our obligation to be knowledgeable consumers and creators. There are so many cultural fusions in clothing and designs. We see it every day. I’d urge people to do their own research.”
@stanfordfashionx
Who is your favorite fashion designer, and where are they from/where do they get their inspiration from?
“I don’t have one. I love designs in the pieces they come in, not by the brand or specific person behind it. Within my Chin culture, I’ve noticed how fashion has extended beyond the person. It’s part of a collective/shared story. Therefore, there isn’t an explicit claim of ownership due to the cultural group belonging to traditional designs.”
Fashion predictions for 2025: Hlawn admires Gen Z’s ability to “detach the label and critique clothes beyond” surface-level appearances. She predicts that in 2025, there will be a greater emphasis on “storytelling and cultural inspirations” in fashion.
Biak Tha Hlawn is a senior from Myanmar pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Design and a Master’s in Sustainability at Stanford University. Hlawn is also the Co-Director of the Culture Team at FashionX at Stanford University.
Growing up in an environment with limited resources, Hlawn’s creativity became a necessity. The conventional dolls she saw on TV were translated into “2D model cutouts using the hardcovers of [her] textbooks.” While her dolls may not have been 3D, they were dressed in style using her own art supplies, foreshadowing her future role within the Culture Team at FashionX.
by Krithika Krishnan
India has traditionally been heralded as a land known for bold colors, artisanal garments, and intricate textile artistry, and it has built its fashion identity on these motifs. In recent years, India has emerged as a powerhouse on the global fashion stage, with Indian designers, styles, textiles, and techniques observed in several haute couture spheres worldwide. India’s journey from a textile powerhouse to a significant force in global haute couture is a story of innovation, tradition, and a new era of creative leadership.
Despite the exploitative circumstances of the British Colonial empire, the export of Indian textiles like Chintz and Muslin and embroidered fabrics like Chikankari and Zardosi captivated the gaze of European markets. With its floral patterns, Chintz became a staple in European interior decor and fashion. The Great Exhibition of 1851 in London, arguably one of the most influential cultural events of the 19th century, was an excellent platform for India’s visibility on the global stage and further showcased the artistry of Indian weavers and embroiderers to international audiences. Despite their inherently exploitative approach, British-controlled exhibitions like this laid the groundwork for the legacy of Indian craftsmanship in modern haute couture.
Following Independence in 1947, India experienced a cultural transformation, aiming to reclaim its fragmented identity through its heritage of crafts and textiles. There was an effort to revive indigenous
techniques like block printing and handloom weaving, which saw less use during the colonial era due to an emphasis on industrialization. Staterun emporiums showcased regional crafts and textiles, providing artisans with a direct connection to customers. These platforms allowed crafts like Bandhani, Ikat, and block printing to gain visibility and remain relevant in modern times. The government also founded organizations like the All India Handicrafts Board and the National Institute of Design to focus on preserving heritage skills while integrating them into modern design practices.
This era also marked the rise of designers like Ritu Kumar, a pioneer in Indian fashion and Haute Couture, known for her unique style blending ancient Indian craftsmanship with more contemporary aesthetics. The revival and enthusiasm for embracing indigenous culture helped Kumar’s work stand out because of how she embraced the richness of India’s heritage at a time when Western fashion influences were dominant.
Kumar’s fame extended beyond India’s borders as she began showcasing her collections internationally. By the 1980s, she had dressed Miss India contestants for international pageants, earning accolades for her innovative use of Indian textiles in the evening and formal wear. Under Kumar’s leadership, India also held its first fashion show in the 1970s. Shows like this and the ones that followed also created opportunities for local weavers and artisans to have their work recognized and celebrated in urban and semi-globalized spaces.
The 1990s were another transformative era for India with the large-scale liberalization of the economy. The economic reforms of 1991 liberalized India’s markets, reducing trade restrictions and encouraging foreign investment, bringing global influences to Indian consumers. This was a turning point for Indian fashion, and the industry benefited from improved access to international fabrics, trends, and markets, enabling designers to experiment with new aesthetics and cater to global audiences. Indian fabrics like silk, cotton, and wool and embroidered and handloom garments
found buyers worldwide. The demand for “exotic” craftsmanship positioned India as a key supplier in global fashion supply chains.
Designers such as Rohit Bal, Tarun Tahiliani, and Sabyasachi Mukherjee emerged during this period, carving out a distinct identity for Indian fashion marked by opulence and glamor. Rohit Bal was known for his opulent designs and intricate embroidery, and he gained global recognition for his regal and sophisticated creations. Tarun Tahiliani was one of the first Indian designers to establish a multidesigner boutique, Ensemble, introducing Indian fashion to modern luxury. Sabyasachi redefined bridal couture by incorporating heritage fabrics and embroidery techniques, bringing Indian craftsmanship into the global spotlight. Indian fashion also began gaining visibility at international events during the 1990s. Designers participated in international fashion weeks, and Indian models like Madhu Sapre and Ujjwala Raut walked global runways, breaking into spaces previously dominated by Western faces.
Additionally, Bollywood was instrumental in exposing Indian culture, specifically Indian fashion, to global audiences. Films showcasing India’s vibrant aesthetics, ornate costumes, and jewelry became a cultural export. Bollywood films in the 1990s featured elaborate costumes that became instant style statements, with movies like Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge and Kuch
The 1990s was another transformative era for India with the large-scale liberalization of the economy.
Kuch Hota Hai showcasing traditional Indian attire in new, glamorous ways. Designers like Manish Malhotra revolutionized Bollywood fashion by creating glamorous, bespoke costumes that blended tradition with contemporary styles. Malhotra’s work in films like Rangeela and Dil To Pagal Hai redefined costume design, elevating it to couture levels. Malhotra’s creations extended beyond the screen, becoming coveted choices for weddings and formal events.
In the 2000s, India would debut its first fashion week, the Lakme Fashion Week, in August 2000. Ritu Kumar said that Lakme Fashion Week aimed to focus on Pret-a-Porter lines and that the focus of fashion going ahead was to be more accessible to the layman since, traditionally, it was only bridal wear that most were willing to empty their pockets for. The Wills Lifestyle Fashion Week, also in the 2000s, organized by the Fashion Design Council of India event became a launchpad for designers aiming to expand their reach domestically and internationally.
The 2000s and 2010s also saw Bollywood stars like Priyanka Chopra, Aishwarya Rai, and Deepika Padukone showcase Indian designers and styles on more global stages like the Cannes Film Festival. Indian textiles and embroidery techniques started appearing in collections by major international houses, including Hermès, Chanel, and Dior.
Today, India has cemented its place in the global fashion world. Maria Grazia Chiuri’s Spring 2020 couture presentation for Dior featured banners made through her collaboration with the Chanakya School of Craft, a Mumbai-based initiative focused on hand embroidery and helping train women
in crafts. Furthermore, Dior displayed its pre-fall 2023 show in Mumbai at the Gateway of India, continuing this collaboration and support between Chiuri and Chanakya Embroidery. This collaboration marks the first time an international luxury brand has held a calendar show in India.
Following the Dior show, 2023 also marked the launch of the Nita Mukesh Ambani Cultural Centre (NMACC) in Mumbai, featuring a lavish event often referred to as India’s MET Gala. The red carpet saw stars like Nick Jonas, and Priyanka Chopra, and Bollywood icons such as Alia Bhatt and Deepika Padukone, alongside international fashion figures including Maria Grazia Chiuri, Karlie Kloss, Emma Chamberlain, Gigi Hadid, and Zendaya, among others. The event also coincided with the launch of NMACC’s temporary exhibition, ‘India in Fashion,’ a 50,000-square-foot space dedicated to celebrating the history of fashion in India.
India’s rise in global fashion is not a fleeting trend but a testament to its enduring legacy and innovative spirit. From colonial trade routes to modern runways, India’s journey exemplifies the power of tradition meeting modernity.
As the world embraces the richness of Indian craftsmanship and creativity, it is clear that India’s story in fashion, luxury, or otherwise is only just beginning.
Courtesy of Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, and Business Insider
Adyant Patnaik
Deepti Pillai
Shreya Sampath
Chanel Kenney
by Sarah Gross
Traditional dance forms are communicative at their core, holding the ability to connect individuals and groups through stories relative to culture, history, and identity. Donatella Barbieri, scholar and scenographer, said in her 2017 book, Costume in Performance, that the costumes of these traditional dances can embody “histories, states of being, and previously unimagined futures in the temporary space of the performance,” emphasizing their storytelling importance in dance. From colorful lei and kupe’e worn in Hawaiian hula dancing to the Jalisco ribbon dresses of Mexican Folklorico, clothing is central to the artistry and meaning behind traditional dance on a global scale. Together, dance and clothing amplify one another’s narrative power, with vibrant patterns, glistening metals, and striking colors expanding upon movement-based stories.
Perhaps one of the most well-known traditional dances is the art of Hula. Each movement in the Hawaiian cultural dance of Hula has a meaning that conveys a story about Gods, chiefs, nature, or important events. For many today, Hula is associated with popular culture references, calling to mind coconut bras and plastic leis. Images of flower crowns and grass skirt-wearing dancers have become a noticeable feature of travel websites and cruise ship advertisements. Yet, these representations stray from the traditional attire that holds a central role in this cherished tradition. Prior to the influence and pressures of Western
imperialism that commodified the practice to encourage tourism, female Hula Kahiko dancers wore skirts made of kapa, or bark cloth, while men wore a loincloth, called a malo.
In modern performances, dancers wear skirts made of woven cloth and dye, featuring painted or silkscreened patterns. Both men and women traditionally adorn themselves with lei and kupe`e, which decorate necks, heads, wrists, and ankles, drawing attention to the delicate movements of hands and feet within the dance. Lei and kupe`e are often made of plants or materials like shells and feathers that represent the deities honored in the dances, contributing to the story being told through the dancers’ movements.
In the classical Indian dance of Bharatnatyam, clothing is a central element of the performance. As one of the most easily recognizable cultural elements of modern India, the Bharatanatyam costume, which is often adorned in jewels, is designed to accentuate the dancer’s movements and highlight the cultural heritage of the dance itself. As an art form, Bharatanatyam was challenged during the British colonial period, in which it was ridiculed and discouraged. Now, the dance is performed and celebrated globally as one of India’s most treasured traditions.
The Bharatanatyam dress traditionally worn by dancers is fashioned with robes made of elaborate tailor-made saris. These saris are embellished with a pleated fabric designed to open up in a fan-like manner when the dancer bends her knees, displaying the intricate footwork elements of the dance. Dancers also typically wear
ghungghru, a type of leather strap, around their ankles, which allows the audience to hear the complex foot movements that characterize this dance form. While footwork is an essential part of Bharatnatyam, the attire of performers also serves to emphasize facial expressions. Dancers often wear heavy makeup covering the entirety of their faces in order to ensure the audience can fully view the expressions throughout the dance. Flowers and jewelry are used in the styling of performers’ hair, while fingers and toes are brightened with red henna dye, further emphasizing the movements.
Mexican Folklórico dance is rooted in the cultural diversity of Mexico, featuring a wide array of movements and costumes that tie to the historical and socio-cultural traditions of various communities. Folklórico has been described as a “conjuncture between performance and theater, traditional cultural arts, and national identity,” in which costuming plays a vital role, particularly due to the associated cultural and gender-based histories. For instance, accessories worn by female dancers typically include aprons, fans, bows, and flowers, while males utilize hats, scarves, and machetes.
Ballet Folklórico developed as Mexico began establishing its independence and national identity separate from Spain. In the state of Jalisco, located on Mexico’s western coast, female folkloric dancers traditionally style their hair in crisscrossed braids and wear brightly colored dresses that combine European and Indigenous elements featuring lace and ruffles. Dancers use these wide skirts and ruffles to emphasize the movements and courtship rituals between men and women. Male
Folklórico has been described as a “conjuncture between performance and theater, traditional cultural arts, and national identity,” in which costuming plays a vital role, particularly due to the associated cultural and gender-based histories.
dancers dress in charro suits, which are based on the clothing of a type of horseman or “cowboy.” These suits are characterized by tight pants, short jackets, a wide-brimmed sombrero, and intricate embroidery that represents the status of the performer. Both male and female dancers wear shoes, either high heels or boots, that accentuate the rhythmical nature of the dance.
In cultures across the globe, dance communicates adherence to tradition, fosters unity among various generations, and works to preserve histories that may have been overshadowed by Eurocentric ideologies. The clothing worn by dancers is an asset to this communicative principle, serving to accentuate the artistry already present within the movement.
Courtesy of Smithsonian Mag, Kaimi, Ipassio, ResearchGate, Journal of Folklore and Education, and “Mexican Baile Folklórico: Dancing with Empire and Expressing the Nation” by Trisha V. Martinez, Vol. 1
by Sofia Giannetto
When it comes to Fashion Week, we all know the Big Four: London, Paris, Milan, and New York! However, Shanghai is set to give them a run for their money in the coming years. Since its inception in 2001, Shanghai Fashion Week (SFW) has become one of the most prominent fashion events in all of Asia due to its ability to elevate Chinese designers to the global stage and highlight influences of Eastern fashion around the world. The event is colorful, exciting, classy, and a testament to some of the most talented designers and influences of our time.
Though designers take their inspiration from Eastern culture, underlying global themes run through every show. The overarching theme for the most recent show is “Emerging Grace”, which explores how fashion and a growing technological world intertwine. Comme Moi by Lu Yan opened the show with a dazzling technological display of light and color that blended seamlessly with her designs. SFW also heavily emphasizes sustainability and “greener” fashion practices across the board. Set against the backdrop of iconic locations such as Xintiandi Taiping Lake or the Bund, these shows emphasize the talent and global reach of China’s top designers, as well as Shanghai’s natural beauty. Despite these themes of global unity and design, designers still take care to draw their initial inspiration from Chinese culture. Designers utilize region-specific textiles and emphasize colors of cultural importance, like red, blue, green, and yellow to distinguish their pieces and honor tradition.
Both classic and contemporary designers pull from these techniques to craft truly remarkable pieces. Uma Wang, a pioneer in Eastern-Western fusion, is no exception—if anything, she is the cornerstone. After starting her ready-to-wear brand in 2009,
Wang quickly rose to fame and marked her career by becoming the first Chinese designer to be featured in the European fashion calendar. More recently, designer, Angel Chen, has taken Eastern fashion by storm. Since launching her brand in 2014, her eccentric and bubbly designs have landed her collaborations with brands from Adidas to Johnnie Walker, and
have been seen worn by the likes of Bella Hadid and Charli XCX. Artists like Wang, Chen, and countless others are pillars of Eastern fashion and champion SFW every season.
SFW is committed to promoting and supporting emerging designers as well. Labelhood, a Chinese organization
that cultivates and collaborates with young designers, supports SFW annually by hosting networking events and bringing exposure to upcoming designers. Harrods also hosts networking events at SFW to connect the brightest minds in Chinese fashion trends with the rest of the world. By uplifting these young designers on a global platform, SFW hopes to bridge the gap between Eastern and Western fashions, and in doing so, connect the cultures. These efforts have transformed SFW’s reputation and attracted major Western brands like Hermes, Loewe, Supreme, and Vivienne Westwood to participate in the event.
Environmental responsibility and technological innovation form core pillars of SFW’s mission. Recently, the event has embraced sustainability efforts by featuring designs using ecofriendly materials and design methods.
In 2023, SFW urged designers to use recycled and eco-friendly materials to push the fashion world toward a greener future. SFW also utilizes AI and new-age technologies in its runway presentations to convey deep environmental consciousness and global peace messages. SFW is on the cutting edge of technology and uses this to its advantage, and social media is no exception. These platforms allow designers to publicize their work worldwide, meaning Gen Z has been especially successful in forwarding these efforts and embracing Eastern fashion culture and the luxury market.
Unlike Paris, New York, Milan, and London, Shanghai Fashion Week (SFW) is deeply rooted in blending cultural tradition with global modernity while uplifting even the smallest local designers. It pushes boundaries in ways that only an event of its distinct
identity can. It takes advantage of its iconic location and plays to the strengths of some of the most brilliant designers of our time, whether the world acknowledges it or not. As SFW continues to grow and flourish, one can only hope it cements its place as a premier fashion capital, producing greats we’ll idolize for years to come.
Courtesy of Shanghai Fashion Week, Forbes, Vogue Business, Atelier New York
by Alexandra Ennabi
As a child, I was obsessed with stars like Hannah Montana, Selena Gomez, One Direction, and countless others. Although I loved these celebrities, I never saw anyone who looked like me on TV. Middle Eastern representation in the media is typically conveyed with harmful stereotypes or not at all. From traditional garments to cultural symbols that have shaped global fashion, Middle Eastern aesthetics continue to leave a lasting impact. As a Jordanian and Syrian-American, I feel it is important that we celebrate the beauty and importance of Middle Eastern fashion and highlight the many diverse Arab creatives who are taking the industry by storm, and the impact it has had on global culture.
We can see first-hand how Middle Eastern fashion and symbols have shaped global culture in the keffiyeh, a traditional Middle Eastern scarf, typically made of cotton, decorated in a checkered pattern of black, white, and red variety. Originally worn for centuries in the Arab world to protect against the harsh desert elements, the keffiyeh has come to represent more than a practical garment. Its significance deepened during the Arab Revolt of 1936 and by the 1960s, the keffiyeh became closely associated with Palestinian nationalism, due to its adoption by figures like Yasser Arafat and Leila Khaled. Today, the keffiyeh is still a powerful emblem of Palestinian solidarity and defiance against oppression, transcending its original purpose to become a global symbol of protest and unity. Unfortunately, the Hirbawi Kufiya Factory is now the only keffiyeh still being actively produced in Palestine due to increased production of overseas low-cost keffiyehs and Israeli roadblocks creating further hindrances to the production and trade of Palestinian small businesses. However, designers like Aziz Bekkaoui weave keffiyehs into high fashion,
defying cultural erasure and industry silence.
This tension between cultural symbolism and its evolving role in fashion can also be seen in the recent popularity of the balaclava, a style that has proven to be controversial. The balaclava bears a striking resemblance to the hijab and niqab worn by Muslim women. Some people have embraced this trend with open arms, but there remain many individuals who are skeptical about this new style, arguing that a woman who is wearing the hijab finds herself the target of hate speech and potential assaults. In contrast, a white, non-Muslim woman wearing the balaclava would be deemed fashionable and trendy instead. Luxury fashion houses like Gucci have faced backlash for appropriating the hijab while declining to feature a hijabi model in their campaigns and failing to acknowledge any possible Islamic roots or references in their designs. This treatment promotes the erasure of Middle Eastern identities within the fashion industry. Yet, while some Middle Eastern influences are overlooked or misrepresented, others have been seamlessly integrated into Western fashion, often without acknowledgment of their origins.
There have been many American fashion trends or staples that are derived from Middle Eastern styles. For example, the first pants worn by women in America, introduced by political activist Amelia Bloomer and later known as “bloomers,” were actually inspired by Middle Eastern attire. The influence of these pants can still be seen in modern fashion, particularly in the style commonly known as “harem” pants. Another trend that has recently resurfaced from the 2000s is layering jeans under
skirts, a style that has long been a staple for many Arab girls seeking to dress modestly. Middle Eastern embroidery has also been common in boho-style clothing. Additionally, Middle Eastern clothes trend toward draping the fabric rather than fitting it to the figure, and so it has contributed to the widespread appeal of oversized clothing trends such as maxi skirts.
These influences highlight how Middle Eastern aesthetics have permeated global fashion, yet many talented Arab-Americans in the fashion space don’t receive the recognition they deserve in mainstream media. One such designer is Rami Kashou, a Palestinian-American fashion designer popularly known for his appearance on Project Runway. Kashou’s designs have been featured in the pages of publications like Vogue and the New York Times. He has also created designs for numerous celebrities, including Jessica Alba, Heidi Klum, and Rihanna, as well as exclusive pieces for Queen
Rania of Jordan. He has even returned to his hometown of Ramallah, Palestine, and mentored young designers in creating environmentally friendly designs.
Another influential Arab-American in fashion is Nadia Aboulhosn. Originally from Lebanon, Aboulhosn started off as a model before launching her own fashion collection, which was showcased at New York Fashion Week. Her designs were catered toward plus-size women, emphasizing body positivity and reinventing traditional norms. Similarly, Joseph Abboud, a Lebanese-American fashion designer to note, joined Ralph Lauren in 1981 and went on to launch two clothing lines: JA Apparel and Jaz. Abboud was also the first designer to win the CFDA award for Best Menswear Designer two years in a row. These designers and their contributions reflect the growing impact of Arab-Americans in the global fashion industry, despite the lack of widespread acknowledgment.
While some Arab designers may not receive widespread acknowledgment, others have had the opportunity to shine on the global stage. Elie Saab, Zuhair Murad, and Sara Chraibi are perfect examples of this. As household names in the world of high fashion, their work has graced red carpets and fashion runways around the globe. Elie Saab, a Lebanese designer, is known for his exquisite craftsmanship and attention to detail. His gowns, often featuring intricate embroidery, luxurious fabrics, and timeless elegance, are highly sought after by celebrities and royalty alike. Similarly, Zuhair Murad, also from Lebanon, has earned international acclaim for his glamorous Haute Couture collections. His bold, feminine designs often include shimmering beadwork and flowing silhouettes and have been worn by stars like Jennifer Lopez, Priyanka Chopra, and Beyoncé. Sara Chraibi, founder of Maison Sara Chraibi, also shines on the global stage, blending her Moroccan heritage with contemporary designs. The designer, who was officially welcomed to Paris Haute Couture Week by the governing body for the French fashion industry in January 2023, presented her S/S 23
Haute Couture collection on the global stage, becoming the only current Moroccan designer to do so.
A special mention must be had for fashion pioneer Azzedine Alaia. Born in Tunisia in 1935, Azzedine made a name for himself in the French fashion scene after years of hard work and meticulous study of Haute Couture. He worked for renowned fashion houses such as Christian Dior, Guy Laroche, and Thierry Mugler before launching his own collection in 1980, where he saw skyrocketing success thanks to his skillful tailoring and distinctive gloves. His highly influential, curvehugging silhouettes earned him the nickname “King of Cling.”
In addition to established designers, there are also contemporary figures in the fashion world shaping the industry with their unique perspectives and cultural representation. Some of my current favorites are singer Elyanna, supermodel Imaan Hammam, and designer Mariam Yehia.
Elyanna is a Palestinian-Chilean singer known for blending traditional Arab sounds with rich, modern vocals. Elyanna adorns herself with keffiyehs, henna, gold coins, the evil eye, and bold eyeliner — all widely recognized within Arab culture for their historical, aesthetic, and symbolic significance. She views her platform as a space for cultural representation. As she said in an interview with Teen Vogue,
“At the end of the day, it’s who I am, and I never, ever want to hide it.”
“At the end of the day, it’s who I am, and I never, ever want to hide it.”
Supermodel Imaan Hammam is one of the most high-profile Afro-Arab models working in fashion, having appeared in eight iterations of Vogue and countless runways. Hammam promotes diversity within the industry and has been an inspirational role model for Arab girls everywhere. By embracing her mixed heritage, she challenges conventional beauty standards and paves the way for more inclusivity. Her success not only highlights her talent but also demonstrates the power of Arab representation in reshaping the fashion landscape.
Finally, Mariam Yehia, the FrenchEgyptian founder of Mrs Keepa, a sustainable luxury brand. From asymmetrical denim maxi skirts to upcycled football jerseys, her brand exudes a rugged it-girl cool that I know has a bright future. Her ability to blend high-end craftsmanship with eco-conscious materials positions Mrs Keepa as an exciting force in the future of fashion. With her innovative designs and strong values, I believe her brand will continue to grow and influence the industry for years to come.
Middle Eastern influence in global style speaks volumes about heritage, innovation, and resilience. From the powerful symbolism of the keffiyeh, which has evolved from a traditional headscarf to a global emblem of solidarity, to the contributions of contemporary designers, we challenge outdated stereotypes and make space for new narratives that reflect the diversity and strength of the Arab world. The impact of Middle Eastern fashion is undeniable—and it’s only getting louder.
Courtesy of BYU, New Lines Mag, Halal Times, Love Happens Mag, Grazia, Teen Vogue, and NPR
@fashionboardusc
Kiki Baumgartner
How does the diversity within your organization shape its creative vision and encourage forms of selfexpression? Can you share a recent fashion project that was influenced by this diversity?
“Within our fashion organization, I am responsible for planning design and style competitions throughout the year. I purposely try to give an overarching theme, but the least amount of guidance as possible to encourage self expression and personal style. Although the majority of our organization has a similar style which helps us bond with one another, differences in culture gives members a new perspective during these competitions and opens more creative doors. This also exposes other club members to these designs during the presentation portion of competitions. Additionally, we host monthly vintage markets with local vendors in the middle of campus for all USC students to shop. These vendors come from multiple different cultures and therefore can influence the products they are selling. Different pieces can resonate with different people, creating an inclusive and encouraging environment.”
Do you think fashion as a whole promotes global inclusion and helps educate people about different cultures and backgrounds? Have you observed a recent trend toward cultural fusion in clothing and designs?
“The first thing that came to mind for me was runway fashion. Fashion is so mainstream, especially with the heavy fashion culture on TikTok and Instagram. I see this as a way for global inclusion to spread and for different fashion trends to be shared. My personal feeds on social media are filled with clips from runway shows or photoshoots from designers or emerging brands, which
I believe is because of rising global inclusion. When brands have models that look like all types of consumers, people are more likely to have a personal connection to the company and their clothing. The increase of global inclusion has also increased the amount of runway content the regular consumer is seeing on social media, since it gets more attention from the public. I believe this exposure is beneficial towards normalizing different cultures in a public fashion space. A trend I have seen come out of this shift is the popularity of head scarfs. Especially in the winter months, I have seen these all over Pinterest in a non-culturally offensive fashion. This is a result from more globally inclusive looks seen on the runway and through social media.”
Who is your favorite fashion designer, and where are they from/where do they get their inspiration from?
“My favorite fashion designer is Ralph Lauren, who is American.”
Fashion predictions for 2025: Katelyn believes sustainability and circular fashion will continue to grow and remain prominent in 2025. She observes that people are becoming more environmentally conscious and is “already seeing less overconsumption in microtrends.” Katelyn also appreciates the rise in comfort clothing, as its flexibility allows people to feel less pressure to follow current trends. “Clothing and personal style is like language and conversation, and [she] wants to hear what people have to say!”
Katelyn Vetro is a sophomore from Atlanta, Georgia, studying fashion merchandising at the University of South Carolina. She is deciding to pursue a career either in sustainability or buying. Katelyn also serves as the director of design for the Fashion Board at USC.
Growing up in the age of social media, Katelyn was captivated by the waves of fashion trends appearing on her feed, inspiring her to constantly experiment with her own style. Her creativity and innovative vision have enabled her to transform and accessorize old garments that may have currently fallen out of style. “This pattern caught [her] attention and encouraged [her] to take this direction for a career path since the fast-paced industry is something [she] could never get tired of.”
@fly.yale
How does the diversity within your organization shape its creative vision and encourage forms of selfexpression? Can you share a recent fashion project that was influenced by this diversity?
“We’d like to first highlight our identities as Co-Founders and Presidents of the organization and where we come from, which is all from major cities. Kellsie comes from Baltimore and Marame and Sumi come from New York City. We grew up around such incredible cultures and such an extensive array of people that simply just translated into wanting to come into Yale and make a space that was safe for people who looked like us and came from the backgrounds we did. FLY’s board looks a lot different than a lot of boards at any institution, especially for clubs surrounding the creative scene and this is extremely important to us; without the experiences, backgrounds, and visions of this board, FLY quite literally would not be where it is now.”
Do you think fashion as a whole promotes global inclusion and helps educate people about different cultures and backgrounds? Have you observed a recent trend toward cultural fusion in clothing and designs?
“The way the fashion industry is conducting itself and changing has been incredible, but the work is not finished and will not be finished for a long time–there is so much more to be done and the appearance of diversity is not enough.”
Who is your favorite fashion designer, and where are they from/where do they get their inspiration from?
Sumi: “Sabyasachi Mukherjee, a fashion designer from Kolkata, India.”
Kellsie: “Anifa Mvuemba, a luxury sizeinclusive designer born in Nairobi,
Fashion predictions for 2025: Kellsie believes the upsurge in the color red and cheetah print in 2024 will transition into a trend of blues and zebra print in 2025. Sumi predicts a rise in fringe on jackets and boots, along with more designs incorporating “polka dots, huge tote bags, and black sheer skirts.”
Three students volunteered to be interviewed from Yale– Kellsie Lewis, Sumi Tariq, and Marame Diop. These three sophomores founded Fashion Lifestyle at Yale (FLY) in the spring of 20232024 and are now the Co-Presidents of FLY. Kellsie is from Baltimore, Maryland and is on the Pre-Law track, majoring in Political Science and Sociology. Sumi, from New York City, is studying Ethnicity, Race, and Migration and pursuing an Intensive Education Studies Certificate on the Pre-Law track. Marame, also from New York City, is studying the History of Science, Medicine, and Public Health, specializing in Public Health.
Kellsie’s love for fashion was constrained at a young age by the school uniform she was required to wear at her “predominantly white, all-girls school.” The uniform consisted of “a teal green skirt and white polo shirt during the spring semester and a hunter green skirt and white polo shirt for the winter semester” from grades six to twelve. This limitation exacerbated her desire to experiment with different designs and styles. As one of the only Black girls in her grade, and one of the taller students as well, Kellsie was confident and eager to “assert [her] dignity and stand out.” She accomplished this by stylizing her strict uniform with bold accessories, embracing her natural beauty, and resisting societal pressure to conform— an “act that would shape how [she] approached fashion and identity later in life.”
Sumi’s interest in fashion started at a young age. Growing up in a family of fashion designers and seamstresses, she was constantly surrounded by “textiles, patterns, fabrics, and sewing machines.” Her specific love for “patternmaking, sewing, and illustrating” inspired her to attend and graduate with a major in Fashion Design at NOCTI, a renowned fashion school in New York City, before making her way to Yale.
Furs– Do we love them? Hate them? Are they a thing of beauty, a symbol of power and wealth? Might they be a reminder of culture and heritage, of persistence through bitter winters that deliver us safely to vibrant springs? Or are they a crime, a target that could get paint thrown on one’s back? Are furs a reminder of the moral dilemmas sewn into every garment we buy in today’s age?
Perhaps they are all of the above. With the cyclical nature of fashion and the seemingly immortal statement piece that is a solid fur coat, examining the reasoning behind one’s stance on wearing furs, or lack of stance, is as important as ever.
From children’s characters like Cruella de Vil to the infamously fur-clad mob wives of the 1920s and ‘80s, furs have been heavily used to communicate power, glamour, and even villainy. But beyond these Western caricatures, fur’s story is one of deep cultural, practical, and historical significance, largely in Indigenous and non-Western traditions.
Fur is one of the oldest materials humans have used for clothing. Its functionality, providing warmth and protection in harsh climates, made it a lifeline for early societies, and a practical and symbolic material for many Indigenous and non-Western cultures.
In Central Asia, garments such as Mongolian deels and Kazakh chapans were worn for functionality on horseback and protection against temperatures plunging well below freezing on the steppe. Traditional Mongolian deels
by Eliza Thorn
(pronounced “dells”) are long, wraparound, sleeved garments, similar to a folded tunic. Historically made from animal hides such as fox, wolf, or sheep, these garments reflect a deep respect for the animals that sustain human life. Today, deels—still worn as daily attire by nomads—adapt to the seasons and regions, with some featuring traditional fur linings. In urban centers of Mongolia, where deels are worn largely for ceremony and tradition, fur may adorn a deel for warmth, decoration, or status. Fur hats often accompany deels, with over 400 distinct styles that signify the wearer’s social status and regional identity.
The Kazakhs, a Turkic ethnic group in Mongolia and across Central Asia, take pride in a striking collection of vibrant traditional attire unique to their heritage. Historically, furs—particularly otter and marten—were used for coats and hats, as well as for lining shoes and headdresses. Saukele refers to their exquisite conical wedding headdress, which can reach over a foot in height, and is traditionally adorned with rich red velvet, silver plates, turquoise and
carnelian stones, coral beads, ribbons, and otter fur trimming. Possibly more iconic are chapans, a type of Kazakh overcoat, distinct amongst a plethora of fur coats and fur hats in this culture. Chapans, available ready-to-wear at markets, are experiencing a resurgence in popularity—not just for special occasions but also as everyday attire. They can be worn over other clothing, either open or closed, with styles suited for both winter and summer. Historically, a chapan for winter might be quilted velvet and lined with wolf, fox, or sable fur if the wearer could afford it. As the nomadic Kazakh people traveled across the unforgiving steppes, several chapans would be worn atop one another for warmth. This would also be done as a display of wealth or status, with men and women sometimes wearing up to ten chapans at once, each larger than the one beneath, and with gradually shorter sleeves to reveal the coats layered below.
In Russia, fur also symbolized wealth and status, with the Russian shuba— directly translating to “fur coat”—deeply embedded in cultural traditions. Under
Russian rule, the Kazakh people were an ethnic minority, and the shuba held such significance that in the late 18th century, when Kazakh leaders pledged loyalty to the Russian tsar, they were adorned in a brocade robe, a hat, and, most importantly, a shuba—a gesture that legitimized their rule in the tsar’s eyes. In a symbolic break from the past, their old garments were then ceremoniously torn apart.
Around the world, fur has been essential for survival in harsh climates and carries deep cultural significance. Beyond its practical use, fur also holds spiritual meaning, often incorporated into traditional garments, ceremonies, and storytelling. Among Indigenous and First Nations cultures of the Pacific Northwest, Plains, and Subarctic regions, otter fur hair wraps are a key part of regalia, frequently worn during traditional dances and powwows. Long strips of otter hide are wrapped around a person’s hair, sometimes giving the illusion of almost floor-length braids. Otter hair wraps may be spotted during the Jingle Dress Dance, a dance that has been used most recently to promote healing, cultural revival, and social justice.
According to most stories, the jingle dress and accompanying dance came to be around 1920, during the Spanish influenza pandemic, when an Ojibwe medicine man’s granddaughter fell sick. He dreamt of the jingle dress and dance, which he quickly made once he awoke. Initially too ill to support herself, his granddaughter eventually was able to perform the dance on her own and was cured. About a century later, in 2020, the world was hit hard by another pandemic: COVID-19. Performing the Jingle Dress Dance and posting pictures in jingle dresses, otter furs, and red scarves, activists and community members from several tribes spread messages of healing and peace during the pandemic, as well as community and solidarity, mourning the loss of missing and murdered Indigenous women.
Often imported from colonized regions and Indigenous communities, fur became synonymous with luxury and power in wealthy European nations. Its commodification was deeply tied to colonial exploitation and the extraction of resources from non-European territories. The European fur trade, particularly in North America, was built on the exploitation of Indigenous knowledge, labor, and resources. European colonizers traded fur with Indigenous peoples, often through unequal and coercive practices, selling these furs as luxury goods in Europe. This trade not only enriched European elites but also disrupted the Indigenous ways of life, as traditional hunting practices were co-opted for profit.
The fur trade became a symbol of colonial power and extraction, with Indigenous communities often bearing the brunt of its consequences. While fur was still used for warmth, its primary role in European fashion was as a luxury item, worn by royalty and the wealthy to display their status. This stood in stark contrast to fur’s practical and symbolic uses in other cultures, where it was still deeply intertwined with survival, spirituality, and cultural identity.
The perception of fur in fashion is often clouded by Eurocentric biases. Non-Western uses of fur are dismissed as archaic or primitive, while European uses are celebrated as luxurious and sophisticated. This double standard undermines the rich cultural significance of fur in many Indigenous and nonWestern traditions. To decentralize Eurocentrism in fur fashion, we must challenge these stereotypes and recognize the diverse ways in which fur has been, and continues to be, incorporated into cultural identity and fashion.
An apt example is Kazakhstani fashion designer Markhamat Umarova, known for her brand MarU, who has
To decentralize Eurocentrism in fur fashion, we must challenge these stereotypes and recognize the diverse ways in which fur has been, and continues to be, incorporated into cultural identity and fashion.
reimagined traditional garments like the chapan with a modern twist. Her work, which has earned her a UNESCO Certificate of Quality, bridges the gap between tradition and contemporary fashion. With the motto, “With respect to traditions, in harmony with the present,” her work seamlessly integrates fur into contemporary designs, from reinvented traditional garments to modern pieces inspired by traditional aesthetics. Her approach not only challenges stereotypes but also celebrates the cultural heritage of Central Asia in a way that resonates with today’s global fashion audience.
Similarly, fur has played a significant role in African American urban fashion, particularly during the Harlem Renaissance. In the 1920s and 1930s, artists, musicians, and intellectuals used fashion, including fur coats, as a form of self-expression and a symbol of success, sophistication, and defiance against systemic oppression. Fur became a marker of upward mobility, especially as Black Americans fought for civil rights and economic equality. Legendary performers such as Marian Anderson and Aretha Franklin used fur to project power and elegance.
World-renowned vocalist
Marian Anderson famously wore a fulllength mink coat when she performed outdoors at the Lincoln Memorial on Easter Sunday in 1939. With thousands gathered on the Mall, after Anderson was barred from white-only DC venues, this performance made a strong statement against segregation. Another larger-than-life icon, Aretha Franklin, made her dramatic mid-show coat drops a signature part of her performances—captivating audiences and moving them to tears as she sang. Nearly 70 years after Anderson, Franklin donned a full-length mink coat to perform
the same song Anderson had, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, in honor of Barack Obama’s presidential inauguration. In these contexts, fur was more than just fashion—it was a declaration of resilience and excellence.
Industrialized fur production faces intense criticism for its environmental and ethical concerns, including grotesque animal welfare issues, the release of noxious gases, toxic chemicals, greenhouse gas emissions, water pollution, and the introduction of invasive species. In stark contrast to the mass production models of the modern fur industry, many Indigenous communities have long practiced sustainable and respectful use of fur. Often, fur is used with reverence for the animal, ensuring minimal waste and honoring the spiritual connection between humans and nature. This approach offers a model for sustainable fashion, challenging the exploitative legacy of Eurocentric fur fashion. By shifting the fur industry away from mass production and back toward ethical, small-scale, and culturally informed practices, we disrupt the colonial structures that once fueled the trade. A sustainable fur industry has the potential to destabilize Eurocentrism by shaking it from the exploitative platform upon which it was built.
Given these glaring issues, many brands have moved away from fur altogether. Versace, Vivienne Westwood, and Armani have denounced its use, deeming it “out of touch.” Yet, major designers like Alexander McQueen, Dior, and Balenciaga continue to incorporate it, proving consumer demand still exists. Faux fur offers an alternative but comes with its own environmental challenges, as most are made from synthetic, nonbiodegradable materials that contribute to microplastic pollution. Plant-based “bio furs” present a more sustainable option, but they remain difficult to produce due to the complexity of replicating animal hair and face
issues with scalability and affordability. Second-hand or vintage fur provides another option, allowing consumers to engage with fur fashion more sustainably, though it may still promote its use and influence future demand. Each of these alternatives highlights the ongoing need for innovation in fashion that balances ethical considerations, sustainability, and consumer demand
So, what can we do? Fur, faux, or forget it?
After speaking with program associates at the George Washington Textile Museum and to a former Smithsonian curator, one thing was made clear; in
today’s dopamine-driven marketplace of hyper-fast fashion, anyone who is putting thought into what they’re purchasing and wearing is already taking one of the most important steps toward breaking the cycle of impulsive shopping. This mindful approach is a critical first step in fostering a more sustainable fashion system. So, whether you buy true fur that was sustainably produced, acquire used fur, find some imitation like bio fur, or opt out of wearing fur at all, your decisions can contribute to a more ethical and sustainable fashion system; just truly understand your “why.”
Ultimately, the debate surrounding fur in fashion is multifaceted, requiring a nuanced understanding of its deep cultural, historical, and ethical tensions. By mindful consumption practices and challenging Eurocentric norms, consumers and designers can contribute to a fashion system that values both cultural diversity and environmental responsibility. Do you see an heirloom fur as a relic of the past, or as an opportunity to engage in broader conversation about sustainability, cultural significance, and ethical responsibility? The key? Be curious, be critical, and don’t shy away from the tough questions. Whether we wear fur or opt for alternatives, our choices carry weight, as they shape not only fashion trends but also the cultural narratives that underpin them. By understanding fur’s rich history and its continued impact on both fashion and culture, we can begin to navigate the fur debate with greater awareness and responsibility. After all, fashion isn’t just about style—it’s a reflection of who we
are, our values, and the world we aim to create, one mindful decision at a time.
Courtesy of AC Study Abroad, Vogue, R. John Howe: Textiles and Text, Visit Uzbekistan, ProQuest, International Journal of Environmental Science & Education, RISD Museum, National Congress of American Indians, RUDN Journal of Russian History, Maru, NPR, and a personal interview with Katrina Orsini
Uma Bondada
Disha Goyal
Amari Sharma
Chanel Kenney
by Rachel Schwartz
by Molly Wolf
Bold red lips, Hailey Bieber’s strawberry cheeks, and textured brows are just a few makeup trends that come to mind when we think of what has helped defined recent years. However, earlier makeup trends carried far more cultural significance than the fleeting social media fads from today’s hottest influencers. Japanese, Indian, and Egyptian makeup traditions are prime examples of this deeper cultural meaning, and their influence has only grown stronger over time.
Let’s start with Japan, specifically focusing on the artistry of the Geisha women. Throughout Japanese culture,
Geisha women are known as artists and entertainers, and their iconic makeup looks are essential to their roles and cultural identity. Geishas often highlight red and pink hues in their makeup, with pink eyeshadow and red cheeks layered over a white foundation. This distinctive white makeup is known as oshiroi, which translates to “white powder”. The process of applying this makeup represents their individual artistry, which is deeply rooted in the culture and traditions of these women. Many of these tactics, such as the use of pink and red in makeup, are still in use today.
Unlike Western makeup trends, East-Asian makeup often includes contouring and highlighting eye bags, or “aegyo-sal.” This highlights natural, graceful, and authentic faces rather than focusing on bold eyeshadow looks and heavily contoured faces that change one’s look completely, as commonly seen in Western makeup trends. The focus of Geisha and EastAsian makeup is rooted in the desire to look healthy, which emerged in 57 BCE Korea. This led to the creation of blush and face powder, products that remain essential to Geisha makeup. These unique trends remain prevalent in Western makeup today, repackaged
and given a different name. We see this in the current TikTok trend titled strawberry makeup, which mainly just consists of red cheeks. These influences show how East-Asian beauty traditions continue to affect worldwide makeup trends today, even as they are rebranded and popularized in new ways.
Now onto the use of kohl in Indian culture, also known as kajal or surma. Here, kohl is used to enhance the eyelids as a form of eyeliner in both everyday wear and special occasions. This is more than just a fashion trend. It holds significant value and tradition. Kohl is meant to make eyes pop, looking bolder, larger, and more expressive. Although it is used as a beauty product, kohl holds significant cultural meaning, as it is believed to ward off evil and protect individuals from negativity. This thought is predominantly featured in the practice of applying kohl to the eyes of babies to protect them from future misfortune.
Kohl holds deep cultural and spiritual significance past its cosmetic appeal. Traditionally applied during weddings and festivals, it is thought to bring good luck and protect against the evil eye, particularly for brides and children. It has been a staple in Indian beauty rituals for centuries for both men and women. Its influence extends globally, as modern eyeliner styles often mirror traditional Indian kohl application, from defining both the upper and lower lash lines to creating intricate decorative designs. Ultimately, the cultural significance of kohl in India has inspired beauty practices worldwide, showcasing its enduring influence on global makeup trends.
Lastly, Ancient Egypt, renowned for its bold eye makeup, has had a lasting influence on modern beauty trends. Egyptian makeup typically featured thick lines of kohl around the eyes, a style that closely resembles the use of kohl in Indian tradition, along with
Kohl holds deep cultural and spiritual significance past its cosmetic appeal. Traditionally applied during weddings and festivals, it is thought to bring good luck and protect against the evil eye, particularly for brides and children.
striking eyeshadow to accentuate the eyes. Kohl was not only thought to ward off evil spirits but also believed to protect the eyes from the sun’s harsh glare, offering a protective effect similar to sunglasses. Additionally, elaborate eye makeup held religious significance—it was seen as a means of connecting with the Gods and ensuring divine protection in the afterlife, as deities like Horus and Ra were depicted with prominently outlined eyes.
Bold eye makeup, while still popular today, often lacks the same cultural depth but continues to be celebrated worldwide. Egypt’s bold eye makeup trend has rippled across the globe, influencing the widespread use of smokey eyes, winged eyeliner, and many other eye-enhancing techniques.
All in all, many popular makeup trends that are commonly associated with the Western world often have their origins in culturally significant traditions from other parts of the globe. These trends, while reinterpreted and modernized, are deeply rooted in centuries-old practices that reflect diverse cultural values and beauty ideals. Trends like these do not stem from one specific area, but instead have a rich cultural history that transcends borders. By embracing and celebrating these global traditions, individuals connect with beauty practices, created centuries ago, honoring the diversity in history behind them.
Courtesy of Urban Optiks and Sartorial Magazine
by Adyant Patnaik
Images from the SAHC x GWFBA Fashion Show
Shot by Rachel Schwartz
Picture this: you scroll through Twitter, encountering yet another viral thread mocking South Asian accents, hygiene, and culture, the same tired stereotypes repackaged for our current digital age. Meanwhile, on the same platform, fashion enthusiasts are swooning over Dior’s latest collection featuring intricate mirrorwork that could have come straight from a Rajasthani artisan’s workshop. The irony? It probably did.
In the glossy world of high fashion, the
same Western voices that perpetuate narratives of South Asian “uncleanliness” in political discourse can’t seem to get enough of our sequins, our embroidery, and our draping techniques. The cognitive dissonance is deafening. This paradox sits at the heart of contemporary fashion’s relationship with South Asian culture: desire and disdain, appropriation and appreciation, locked in an endless dance that is anything but a happy Bollywood ending track.
Welcome to 2025, where South Asian fashion serves as both a battleground and a revolution. Scroll through any luxury e-commerce site and you’ll find $2,000 kurta-inspired tops and $500 “bohemian” scarves that look suspiciously like your grandmother’s dupatta. The neo-colonial dynamics at play in the fashion industry are impossible to ignore. European luxury houses have long treated South Asian craft traditions as an exotic resource to be mined rather than a living
culture to be respected. Alessandro Michele’s S/S 25 Valentino show exemplifies this complex relationship; mirrors, threadwork, and silhouettes lifted directly from South Asian cultural heritage, transformed into luxury commodities for Western consumption. His collection, while beautiful, drew heavily from techniques like aari work and shisha embroidery, traditional crafts that have been perfected in South Asian workshops for centuries. To explore examples, we can examine look 22 with an embroidered Bandhgala jacket, and look 39,
reminiscent of a lehenga and dupatta combination in vibrant green.
The 2023 Dior Mumbai show, while ostensibly celebrating Indian craftsmanship, ultimately reinforced the notion that South Asian techniques need Western validation to be considered legitimately “luxurious.”
The show featured intricate zardozi work and bandhani techniques, yet the narrative centered around Maria Grazia Chiuri and Dior’s “discovery” of these ancient crafts. The true complexity of this cultural exchange
in contemporary fashion.
Yet, a powerful resistance movement is emerging from within the fashion world itself. One of my personal favorites, Harago, based in Jaipur, has become the blueprint for how traditional craftsmanship can be both preserved and revolutionized. Their handwoven cotton sets and masterfully crafted jackets represent more than beautiful clothes – they’re a declaration of South Asian creative autonomy. Working directly with local artisans, Harago
becomes even more apparent when examining the economic structures that underpin it. While European fashion houses charge thousands for garments featuring South Asian craftsmanship, the artisans who maintain these traditions often struggle for recognition and fair compensation. The same embroiderers who create masterpieces for luxury brands might find their cultural heritage mocked or dismissed in other contexts. This disconnect between the valorization of South Asian craft and the devaluation of South Asian people reveals the persistent colonial mindset
maintains traditional techniques while creating silhouettes that speak to contemporary sensibilities. Their recent collection featuring hand-block printing from Rajasthan demonstrates how ancient techniques can be reimagined without losing their cultural essence.
Kartik Research, the Indian artisanal fashion brand under University of Pennsylvania dropout Kartik Kumra’s creative direction, takes this a step further by reimagining Indian workwear
through a lens that refuses to pander to Western expectations. The brand’s exploration of traditional Indian garment construction, from the angular cuts of kurtas to the layered functionality of traditional farmers’ clothing, creates a new vocabulary for contemporary fashion. In fact, Kumra chooses to describe his clothing as “future vintage”. Their pieces incorporate ageold techniques like natural dyeing and handloom weaving while creating silhouettes that challenge both Western
and traditional Indian archetypes.
Jumping from India to New York, the story of Emily Bode’s BODE encapsulates both the potential and pitfalls of cultural exchange in fashion. Bode, married to a Punjabi man herself, uses South Asian textiles and fabrics to create glamorous pieces with some of the best embroidery and texture details money can buy. Her transformation of vintage Indian materials into coveted menswear pieces has undeniably brought attention to South Asian
textile traditions. However, when a repurposed Indian bedspread becomes a four-figure jacket in a New York boutique, the economics of cultural appreciation become murky. Bode’s work raises essential questions about the commodification of cultural heritage – the vintage textiles she uses often come from families who preserved them for generations, only to see them transformed into luxury items for Western consumers. The profit and prestige continue to flow primarily
toward Western creators, while South Asian artisans remain in supporting roles.
The maximalist tendencies in South Asian fashion reveal centuries of refined aesthetic tradition that Western fashion is only beginning to fully appreciate. What’s now celebrated as “maximalism” on European runways has been the standard in South Asian design for generations – the intricate embroidery, the layered textiles, and the sophisticated beading techniques
that have become a staple of Haute Couture. Traditional techniques like zardozi, featuring metal threadwork and precious stone embellishments, demonstrate a level of craftsmanship that Western fashion houses are still struggling to replicate. The intricate patterns of Kashmiri embroidery, the complex layering of Lucknowi chikankari, and the sophisticated color combinations of Gujarati mirror work all speak to a maximalist tradition that values both ornament and meaning.
This isn’t trend-chasing; it’s cultural continuity. The metallic threads and beaded embellishments that appear on European runways each season have their roots in South Asian ceremonial garments. The draping techniques that Western designers “innovate” with each season are elementary compared to the sophisticated engineering of a perfectly draped sari. The layering of textures and patterns that fashion critics praise in contemporary collections mirrors principles that South Asian designers have understood for generations. Not to mention, the West’s recent obsession with sustainability and textile preservation would be almost amusing if it weren’t so ironic. Long before “upcycling” became a fashion industry buzzword, South Asian households had perfected the art of textile reuse. A silk sari becomes a blouse, then transformed into a cushion cover, before finding new life as part of a quilted blanket – this isn’t a marketing strategy, it’s generations of inherited wisdom about fabric’s inherent value. The practices now being celebrated as innovative by Western fashion publications have been fundamental to South Asian domestic life for centuries.
This generational knowledge extends far beyond simple reuse. Traditional South Asian textile care includes sophisticated techniques for natural cleaning, preservation, and restoration. The careful folding and storing of textiles, the use of natural mothballs like neem leaves, and the seasonal airing and refurbishing of garments all speak to a deep understanding of sustainable fashion practices. These methods passed down through
generations, offer valuable lessons for the contemporary fashion industry’s belated embrace of sustainability. Contemporary South Asian designers are now leveraging this rich heritage while challenging the industry’s power structures, like Sabyasachi Mukherjee, who collaborates with Western brands on his own terms. When major fashion houses like Gucci, Etro, and Hermès draw inspiration from South Asian color combinations and embellishment techniques, they’re tapping into an aesthetic vocabulary that South Asian designers have been fluently speaking
for generations. The difference lies in who gets to control the narrative.
The resistance through fashion has evolved beyond simple design choices. South Asian designers are increasingly using their platforms to challenge stereotypes and reclaim narratives. The global fashion industry’s relationship with South Asian craft is undergoing a necessary transformation. The rise of social media and direct-to-consumer platforms has enabled South Asian designers to bypass traditional gatekeepers and speak directly to their audiences. This shift has allowed for more authentic storytelling and fairer economic models. Brands like Harago and Kartik Research can now reach global audiences while maintaining
control over their narratives and supply chains.
The future of South Asian fashion lies in this intersection of tradition and innovation, resistance and celebration. As the industry grapples with questions of sustainability, authenticity, and cultural appreciation, South Asian designers and artisans offer centuries of wisdom and expertise. Their work demonstrates that true luxury lies, not in the exploitation of cultural heritage, but in its respectful continuation and evolution. In an age where colonial-era prejudices persist amidst the rise of rightwing nationalism in new digital forms, South Asian fashion stands as both art and armor. It’s a reminder that the same cultures being denigrated online have shaped the very language of global luxury. The revolution happening in fashion isn’t just about beautiful clothes – it’s about power, perception, and the profound statement made when a culture reclaims its narrative through its most vibrant forms of expression. The intricate embroidery, sophisticated draping, and sustainable practices that characterize South Asian fashion aren’t just techniques to be appropriated; they’re living traditions that continue to evolve and inspire. South Asian fashion isn’t just surviving, it’s thriving, evolving, and demanding recognition on its own terms. Isn’t that the most powerful form of resistance imaginable, anyway?
Courtesy of Kartik Research, WWD, and The Voice of Fashion
by Victoria Smajlaj
The leadership, hard work, and dedication of Indigenous people have long been silenced by systemic oppression stemming from imperialist ideologies. Vancouver Indigenous Fashion Week (VIFW) shines as a powerful counterpoint, offering an immersive educational experience and a celebration of Indigenous enterprises and customs, in an effort to fight back against the harmful stereotypes about Indigenous peoples. This event, held from November 20-23 at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, showcased over 30 respected Indigenous fashion designers and more than 40 artisans from across Turtle Island.
VIFW honors Indigenous designers, artists, and models while celebrating Indigenous culture, traditions, and resilience. The event highlights the
creativity of Indigenous fashion and often pays tribute to missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and Two-Spirit people, as well as efforts toward Indigenous cultural revitalization. Two-Spirit, a term used by many Indigenous North American communities, refers to individuals who embody both masculine and feminine spirits and often hold important cultural and spiritual roles within their communities. First launched in July 2017 under the leadership of Joleen Mitton, a model and producer from Plains Cree of the Sawridge Nation in Alberta, VIFW continues to showcase and uplift Indigenous talent while creating space for cultural exchange.
In 2024, VIFW was co-produced by The Wisdom Circle, an advisory council of 12 Indigenous Elders, artisans, and
community leaders who focused on ensuring all events aligned with Indigenous values and authenticity while addressing crucial issues when promoting Indigenous culture. Another primary goal of the Wisdom Circle was to combat harmful stereotypes, drive progress in the fashion industry, and promote ethical and sustainable practices that encourage greater responsibility within the fashion world.
VIFW 2024 consisted of fashion shows, attractive pop-up shops, educational workshops, and captivating art installations. The theme for this year, “Fire,” symbolized the enduring spirit of Indigenous fashion, honoring its past, present, and future, while also representing the strength and resilience required to overcome centuries of oppression inflicted by colonial powers.
The Red Dress Event marked the official opening night, drawing inspiration from the REDress Project, a national art movement in Canada. The project features red gowns and dresses designed to symbolize the thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and TwoSpirit people, raising awareness about the disproportionately high homicide rates among Indigenous women. Each dress displayed serves as a poignant reminder of the countless lives lost. In a moving tribute, Taalrumiq, an Inuvialuk and Gwich’in Indigenous designer, content creator, and speaker, showcased her blend of traditional Inuvialuit and contemporary designs through her garments and accessories. Taalrumiq’s daughter wore a stunning red dress on the runway at VIFW 2024, beautifully embodying the ongoing efforts to heal and resist the harm that has been done.
The second night, titled “All My Relations,” honored the connection between traditional Indigenous fashion and contemporary design. Northern Tutchone/Tlingit designer Kaylyn Baker brought her idea of “beaded storytelling” to life on the runway, presenting a cropped windbreaker jacket paired with coordinating joggers. The ensemble featured beadwork-inspired prints in soft pastel hues, complemented by a statement necklace adorned with
intricate beadwork, showcasing the delicate craftsmanship of traditional Indigenous artistry. Similarly, Sagamok Anishnawbek designer and artisan Tracy Toulouse displayed garments crafted from leather, beadwork, and birchbark, blending modern aesthetics with the rich traditions of Anishinaabe design.
Night three, “Indigenous Futures,” explored the future of Indigenous fashion, highlighting its evolution through pop culture and activism, and the fusion of technology with tradition. The runway featured a diverse range of designs, from athleticwear and streetwear to pieces infused with deep cultural symbolism. Cree-Métis designer and Indi City co-founder Angel Aubichon presented striking laser-cut accessories, while Alicia’s Designs, representing the Nuu-ChahNulth and Kwakwaka’wakw nations, unveiled intricately hand-painted boots. The night also highlighted modernized garments incorporating Indigenous religious symbolism, reflecting a modern interpretation of ancestral traditions.
The theme of the closing night was “Spirit of the West Coast.” This remarkable finale featured Debra and Aleen Sparrow, a mother-daughter duo, showcasing their Salish heritage through seamless textiles crafted from all-natural fibers. This honored both
environmental stewardship and the preservation of tradition. April Allen, an artist from Rigolet, an Inuit community in Canada, crafted numerous designs that displayed the cultural significance of beading, sewing, and traditional craftsmanship in Inuit heritage. This finale exhibited the importance of honoring the land and its inhabitants with reverence.
VIFW 2024 was more than just a celebration of Indigenous fashion— it was a cultural experience that immersed audiences in Indigenous art, drumming, dancing, and singing. At its core, VIFW aims to demonstrate how fashion can encourage relationships with Indigenous BC’s history, values, and wisdom. It serves as a bridge for understanding and reconciliation between Indigenous and nonIndigenous communities while being an effective tool to build resilience and strength within the Indigenous communities. More than a runway showcase, VIFW 2024 reaffirmed the power of fashion as a medium for storytelling, cultural preservation, and collective empowerment.
Courtesy of VIFW, First Peoples’ Cultural Foundation, Create A Stir, The Tyee, Emily Carr University of Art + Design, and Facebook
Keshav Mody Interviewed by
Kiki Baumgartner
How does the diversity within your organization shape its creative vision and encourage forms of selfexpression? Can you share a recent fashion project that was influenced by this diversity?
“At NYU FBA, we are always focused on creating a diverse and inclusive environment. From club events to e-board meetings, we encourage selfexpression and always look for new ideas. Our close partnership with our fashion magazine at NYU is a major example of our goals. It is titled Vis Major Zine. The magazine, which is published every semester, is a testament to the diversity of students at NYU, specifically in fashion. It contains articles on the fashion world and trendy style photoshoots with members of the club. Another example of a recent project is our creation of story takeovers. Essentially, we offer the chance for any e-board members or club members to showcase a “day in the life” on our Instagram. The results of this project allow people to share their ideas and fashion-related experiences which brings our community closer together.”
Do you think fashion as a whole promotes global inclusion and helps educate people about different cultures and backgrounds? Have you observed a recent trend toward cultural fusion in clothing and designs?
“Certainly, I think fashion is crucial to achieving an inclusive world through its creation of a safe space for individuals and communities. An example of a recent trend is the 1990s-2000s football (or soccer) aesthetic which has influenced brands from Supreme to smaller shops such as Lack of Guidance. Many brands collaborated with football teams and took inspiration from items like football kits with their new releases. To get a sense of how global
@nyufba
this trend is, take note of how many pairs of Adidas Sambas you see in the streets. In general, I think the football community is becoming a playground for fashion designers because of the tight-knit culture that encompasses all demographics. From a consumer standpoint, trends like these make fashion more accessible and relatable. Simply, you face greater exposure to it through activities that occur in your daily routine such as watching football. It will be interesting to see how far the fusion between fashion and football will go.”
Who is your favorite fashion designer, and where are they from/where do they get their inspiration from?
“My favorite fashion designer is Ronnie Fieg, who is the founder and owner of KITH. He is from Queens, New York. Starting out in the stockroom of a local footwear store, left in 2010 to found KITH. His main focus was creating an emotional connection between brand and consumer, selling a lifestyle not just products. One of my most cherished fashion pieces is a KITH Williams hoodie from their 2018 fall-winter collection. The brand itself is remarkable, they operate in the streetwear space while simultaneously collaborating with nonfashion-related companies such as BMW and Disney. Fieg’s commitment to growth and innovation remains steadfast. Furthermore, what stands out to me is his passion for maintaining a familial relationship with his clientele. For example, KITH recently introduced a three-tiered loyalty program. It’s a fantastic way to express appreciation for long-term supporters while attracting new ones. I strongly believe the brand will experience success, especially if Fieg continues to steer it in the current direction.”
Fashion predictions for 2025: Keshav believes AI will play a significant role in demonstrating the efficacy of different fashion brands in 2025. He envisions companies incorporating innovative AI-driven methods to enhance the consumer experience, such as “AI recommendations on a touch screen inside a fitting room.” Keshav also predicts that fashion brands will integrate more elements of the sports world into their designs, similar to Louis Vuitton’s SS/25 collection, which “includes a football kit and a pair of cleats.”
Keshav Mody is a junior from Cleveland, Ohio, studying Public Policy on the PreLaw track at New York University. He is also a member of the executive board of NYU’s Fashion Business Association.
Keshav’s professionalism in fashion began in his teenage years when he “cofounded a fashion publication” at his high school, Western Reserve Academy. The publication not only served as a platform to showcase the school’s fashion tastes and update others on the state of the global fashion industry, but it also revealed his personal style and taught him “how brands form their own collections based on current and future trends in fashion.”