“THE STORIES WE WEAR”
“Now and then, I would see my grandmother mending our clothes or sewing something, but I didn't think much of it. It wasn't until recently that I sat down to talk with her and discovered her history in fashion.”
Story: Valeria Lopez-Lamia
I grew up going to Colombia every summer to visit my family. As a child, I ran around my grandma’s house, climbed trees, played in the garden, and chased my cousins. As I played hide-and-seek, my go-to spot was my grandmother’s sewing room. I would stealthily hide behind the mannequins, under the fabrics, or among the machines. Now and then, I would see my grandmother mending our clothes or sewing something, but I didn't think much of it. It wasn't until recently that I sat down to talk with her and discovered her history in fashion.
My grandmother and her six siblings were born and raised in a town called Betania. In their early years, they fled Betania while escaping violence and spent two years separated from each other. Eventually, the whole family found safety in Cali, a major city in Columbia. As the youngest, she dropped out of high school to allow her older sister to have the means to graduate. Because she could no longer attend school, she started sewing in the afternoons.
One afternoon, she was reading the newspaper and saw that a Colombian-French partnership had brought over a couple of French women to boost the garment-making industry in Colombia. One of them was only supposed to come for a short period of time but fell in love with a Colombian man, settled in Cali, and began offering classes. My grandmother instantly called the number in the advertisement and signed up for the classes.
For the following five years, she focused on haute couture, creating custom-made, high-end garments and all sorts of clothes for special events. People would go to her, tell her what they envisioned, and she would bring it to life. She did it all: creating patterns and designs, cutting the fabric, sewing, and ironing. As her workload grew, she partnered with her cousin to start their own brand. They called it Lumiè — a combination of their names, Lucia and Miriam Elvira, which drew inspiration from the French perfume called Lumière.
Shortly after starting Lumiè, my grandma’s best friend, Omaira, joined her. For the next 14 years, they spent every day together sewing everything in sight: wedding dresses, sports clothes, school uniforms, etc. They shared lunch, gossiped, and grew even closer as friends. Eventually, they opened their own shop in the South of Cali and sent their clothes off to vendors in six different Colombian cities. Feeling that she had accomplished what she set out to do, she closed her store in the late 1990s.
The world of fashion is often seen as shallow and superficial, which once made me believe that I had to pursue a career with more “depth” in order to leave a mark on society. But I look at my grandma and realize that a statement like that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Living in Colombia, my grandma has had to face armed conflict, socioeconomic inequality, and constant social unrest, yet she was able to overcome countless obstacles by making clothes. As millions of people around the world work in the fashion industry, I can’t help but wonder how many people have been shaped by fashion and how many stories, just like my grandma’s, go untold. If you look closely, you’ll realize that even what appears to be “meaningless” can have profound depth and impact.
While sewing clothes may not be my art form, listening to and sharing the stories of others is. I believe that everyone in this life has a story to tell, so I encourage you to go out there and discover as many as you can. The more curious you are about the world around you, the more connections you will find and the more you will grow as a person. Being curious about people’s stories will help you realize that, after all, we are not as different as we appear to be.
Abuelita, gracias por ser la luz de mi vida. Nunca me alcanzarán las palabras para expresar cuánto te amo.