Weaving Memory through Fashion
The Magical Genesis of Equihua
Growing up in California, I spent so much time gazing at the sky, often losing myself in its vastness. One day as the sun slipped through the window warming my face, my mom presented me with a clear green nametag. It had my photo, name, address, and phone number on it — all the important things a mother needs to know her child is safe. She placed it over my heart. I felt special and safeguarded knowing that if I got lost, I could always make my way back home.
I didn’t think much about the name tag, until decades later when my sister, who is a year and half older than me, poked fun at it. We laughed together at how much time I spent in the clouds. I forgot that in the world where our feet are planted, we think about the ways in which we are perceived. It hit me then: I had been that distracted kid, the one who needed a nametag to stay grounded. In this world of ours, it was that simple. But for me, distraction wasn’t a flaw; it was a sanctuary. The “distracted world” became my refuge, where I could create without boundaries. In that place, I’m an architect, designing where locations are undefined, where beginnings and ends blur into one another. Everything is influenced by the cosmos, by past, future and present, yet paradoxically, nothing and everything matters. It’s a world of contradictions, where fragments coalesce into shapes, and once whole, they become the world of Equihua.
Equihua (pronounced e-kee-wah) is the brand I created in 2015. It is my pre-colonial last name from Michoacan. My entire life it has been misspelled and mispronounced. However, I knew that my work would encapsulate the narratives and stories that, like my last name, should be honored and spoken. Preserving the name — boldly spacing it, giving it bigness — was my way of saying, “You will learn to spell this, to pronounce it, just as European names are preserved. So will mine … so will ours.”
I wasn’t sure how these stories would reveal themselves to me, but they found me. In 2016, while riding the train to my full-time job, I created two lists that would change my life forever. The first was titled “What is a classic in fashion?” On it, I wrote items like a white T-shirt, jeans, a hoodie, a trench coat. The second list was more personal: “What is a classic to you, Brenda?” There, I wrote about childhood memories and cultural references unrelated to fashion.
These lists became a series of odd writing exercises that I believed would unlock parts of myself.
The breakthrough came one day as I was heading to the Six Flags amusement park with my brother. I was in the back of his white van when the idea to create a luxury hoodie out of a San Marcos Blanket hit me. The idea washed over my entire body with a sense of urgency. “Turn down the music,” I told my brother, “I have an announcement. I’m going to create a luxury hoodie out of a San Marcos blanket!” My brother glanced at me from the rearview mirror with a curious squint in his eye. My nephew shrugged one shoulder , saying, “That’s cool, Tía,” and my brother’s girlfriend chuckled. I immediately called my sister, telling her I didn’t want to be at Six Flags — that all I could think about was being back in my studio, bringing this idea to life.
The next day, I started working on the concept, knowing instinctively that I was nurturing something precious. Like a mother with her newborn child, I held it close. It needed me and I was teaching it what it was supposed to be. When I thought about how I wanted to unveil this story, I chose to shoot it in an unconventional way — one that would weave it into the collaborative fabric of society while honoring the deep history it carried.
This was a turning point for me, I had devised a blueprint to bring forth ideas buried in what I call my “distracted place” into what I now refer to as the “sensory place.” In this world, we see, touch, smell, taste, hear and we feel. Mastering the art of moving between these realms felt almost like a superpower.
My mother introduced me to this duality—anchoring me into her spiritual awareness. One of my earliest memories is of her crouching down to meet my gaze, saying, “One day, you won’t see me; my body won’t be here, but I will always be with you.” At five years old, it was a confusing moment that stayed with me. But I understand it now. There is so much we can’t see, and that is my driver: to extract, examine and transform what lies hidden.
In the same way the San Marcos blanket story spoke to me, so did the Paniolos—the Mexican and Hawaiian cowboys we explored in 2019 at Equihua. That connection came to me while I was staring at a Mexican oilcloth adorned with Hibiscus flowers, which prompted me to ask myself, “Is there history between Mexican culture and Hawaiian culture?” and “How can this be visually translated into a surreal form?” From these musings came my collection “Los Paniolos.” Mexican vaqueros (cowboys) were brought to Hawaii in the early 1830s by King Kamehameha III. He invited them to teach the islanders cattle herding techniques, as wild cattle were becoming a problem after being introduced by Captain George Vancouver. These vaqueros came from California, then a part of Mexico, and the cross cultural exchange between them laid the foundation for a new way of life ranging from attire, music, and lifestyle. In our collection, we combined traditional workwear shapes and Hibiscus oilcloths with a high artistry approach to the finishing touches. Design details included Vaquero style seams and neon lasso piping sewn onto waterproof garments acclimated for Hawaii’s heavy rainy season. The Hibiscus pattern was also printed onto daywear separates suitable to wear in humid climates that can be mixed and matched with each other. The exploration of this project led me to meet The Paniolo prince and Queen Maile who are Hawaiian Hip Hop music artists and activists that use their music as a way to preserve Hawaiian culture. During this exploratory process we created a track that Andrew (known as DJDNA) produced and was going to lay the foundation for a bigger filmed narrative, but we could not fund it due to the unforeseeable pandemic of 2020. As with many stories, I thought about how many more stories like this exist and how I could have lived this long without knowing the magic of this exchange.
In 2022, we launched a luxury candle titled “Mundos”(the Spanish word for worlds), a sensory exploration of our collective memories. Notes of piloncillo (raw cane sugar), rice water, fresh cut stems, gardenias, tierra mojada (wet earth), and palo santo evoke a world of ritual. These projects have, in many ways, healed me from an industry that often buries our stories in the vaults of inspiration boards, translated by those who cannot speak the language of the culture they observe. Working in the fashion industry, I was repeatedly told, “Everything has already been done!” and I knew it to be untrue. There are so many untapped stories and so many creators that have not unlocked the codes to their own minds. So, it is with the untangling of experiences that no longer serve me and braiding of our stories that I create. It is through the invisible green hang tag in my heart that I remember who we are and where we came from to bring us back home.
Brenda Equihua is the Creative Director of Equihua and holds a B.F.A from Parsons School of Design. Her work has been acquired by The Smithsonian Museum and The Museum at FIT. She has been featured on numerous podcasts and articles. You can find the brand on equihua.us and instagram handle @equihua_official
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