Entre Hilos y Raíces
Honoring my Hispanic Heritage through sewing
I often think back to when I was a little girl, sitting in the back seat while my parents drove us across the border into Mexico. We visited regularly because we had family who lived there. I remember the dry, weathered landscape, the dusty roads, and the humble homes that felt warm and welcoming. I can picture the vibrant streets during festivities filled with the sounds of Spanish and the faces of the people, some tired and marked with struggle, some alive and full of hope. This exposure allowed me to see the habits and beliefs, which deepened my connection to my people and discover my identity.
My heritage is a blend of Mexican and Spanish ancestry. Sadly, most of what I know about my family comes only from my own memories and experiences. Most stories I’ve heard from before I was born can no longer be verified, and all that exists are tales of which I’ve heard multiple versions altered over generations. Yet none of these stories mentions anyone skilled in sewing. Perhaps it simply wasn’t something they thought was worth mentioning. Lately, though, I found myself wondering who, if any, in my family shared this interest.
This calling feels like it came from someone other than my parents as neither of them displayed any creative inclinations. No one in my family owned a sewing machine, yet I was drawn to learn the craft from a very young age. Now, I know creative skills are not passed down through genetics but there was nothing in my environment or upbringing that predisposed me to sewing.
Somewhere within the threads of my family’s history, there was a seamstress or someone with a similar passion as mine. Someone in our family lineage possessed these remarkable skills that went unnoticed for some generations and unexpectedly found their way to me. So, in honor of whoever they were and to the craft that we both loved, using the skills I believe were inherited, I made a little dress.
There was no sketch for this gown made before construction. It just came together in pieces. The first part was the skirt. I knew from the start that it had to feature flamenco style ruffles, a design element I’ve always loved. However, instead of using fabric, I chose to make a statement by incorporating small Mexican flags, layering them into tiered ruffles along the skirt of the gown. This way both sides of my heritage were unified.
I arranged the flags based on the width of each ruffle tier, as they would be sewn onto the skirt - four on the top, six in the middle, and eight on the bottom. Since the flags were designed to be on small poles, I had to remove the tubular sleeve, where it was meant to be mounted, with a seam ripper. Then, I carefully trimmed the edges and applied fray check to prevent the fabric from unraveling.
Originally, I had intended to make the dress in the colors of the Mexican flag, as I primarily identify with the Mexican side of my family. However, finding a green fabric that wasn’t in a dull tone proved impossible. So instead, I chose to make the entire gown a vibrant red, a color that symbolizes life and celebration in Mexican culture.
Since the flags weren’t long enough, I needed to add additional ruffles to reach the length of the hem. When I first added two tiers of red ruffles, I realized it was too much of the same color and felt the design did indeed need green to create a better balance. After searching through my entire fabric stash, I found a strip of green left over from a previous project. Although it didn’t match the green in the flags exactly, it turned out to be perfect.
At the center front, instead of having the flags meet directly, I envisioned rows like a waterfall of lace flowing down the waist. Initially, I considered using white lace to match the flag, but when I began the process of draping it on the dress form, it didn’t look cohesive, so I opted for red instead.
Next, I focused on draping the bodice. I experimented with a few design ideas, including a high-neck, long-sleeve fitted top and a deep V-neck version with long sleeves. However, since the skirt already covered the entire lower half, I ultimately decided on a corset-style bodice to balance the overall look.
I sectioned the bodice into four panels for a better fit. It sounds ridiculous I know. This was a dress form and dress forms already fit everything perfectly but that’s where my brain went. Three panels would have been enough, but I wanted to be sure the area beneath the bust lay smoothly. She was too real for me to cut corners and this dress meant everything to me.
This was the smallest bustier top I’ve ever made. I couldn’t get over how cute it was! And for full transparency, I didn’t label the pieces because I thought I wouldn’t mix them up and guess what, I mixed them up and stitched them incorrectly. I could feel my professors shaking their heads at me. I had hoped to trim out the top of the corset with tiny red roses, like the ones you see in old keepsakes but, much like the green fabric, I couldn’t find the perfect ones. So instead, I gathered flowing folds of red lace fabric to resemble the gentle cascade of the Mexican weeping pine.
With most of the dress in place, it was finally time to add the finishing touches that tied it all together. I embellished the waistband with two rows of red ruffle trim, and to enhance the shape and give the skirt a fuller, more dramatic flare, I layered tulle beneath the hem to lift and support for extra volume. For the sleeves, I chose to make them in lace, like long vintage gloves that gave refined sophistication.
The front lace panels were the last to be constructed as I had to wait for the fabric to arrive. A breathtaking red Chantily lace so delicate in texture, so effortlessly romantic that it just completely elevated the entire gown. Using the remaining lace and trim I accessorized a coordinating choker and shawl paying homage to the old-world, reminiscent of costumes found in both Spanish and Mexican traditions.
Speaking of traditions, the truth is I don’t follow them. I grew up in a conservative Mexican household, raised by parents whose values were shaped and deeply rooted in these old-fashioned cultural customs. Customs I regularly questioned and never fully bonded with. But my love for my people has never wavered. I am a proud Latina, and I carry the spirit of my ancestors within me.
In stitching this gown, I didn’t just create a garment. I celebrated the resilience that has carried my people through generations of hardship. This gown was a form of resistance at a time when the Hispanic community is under attack. It felt like the most honest, personal thing I could do to stand in solidarity and to honor where I come from.
So, to all my Latinos, always live fully, and let your pride shine. Remember, our roots are rich, our voices powerful, and through joy, art, and love, we will continue to shape the world. Walk proudly in your truth, hermanos y hermanas, and no matter what, never, ever dim your light.
