The biannual New York Fashion Week is when both major established and hot up-and-coming designers present their new collections to an exclusive audience of media, buyers, and celebrities, setting global trends for the season. Though Indigenous designers have been highlighted on occasion, their work has remained largely at the margins. Cue the arrival of Relative Arts on the New York scene. This dynamic duo of Native fashionistas, hellbent on changing the status quo, established the city’s first boutique to showcase contemporary Indigenous fashion exclusively, and recently inaugurated the first Indigenous New York Fashion Week. Korina Emmerich (Puyallup) and Liana Shewey (Mvskoke) have realized a collective dream to put Indigenous contemporary style on center stage. Cristina Verán spoke with them about their journeys to this point and the vision they share.
Cristina Verán: Like many creative types, you both came to New York to build creative professional lives. How did you first meet and connect your passions?
Korina Emmerich: I'm a fashion designer and artist, and when I was growing up in the Pacific Northwest—before social media and all that—there was no real visibility for Indigenous designers. It was as if they didn't even exist; it felt lonely. So I moved here to pursue a career. It’s been 17 years now!
Liana and I met at the American Indian Community House. When we learned how similar our respective missions are, we started an activist collective, focused on organizing, direct action, and mutual aid. We're both creative people—and fans of fashion, too. For us, these things go hand in hand.
Liana Shewey: I’m from Oklahoma and went to college in Portland, Oregon, then moved to New York in 2018. My professional background is in event production for music venues, which I did while also being a community organizer. It’s always been part of my personal practice to bring people together and to support artists, and so our collective began as a community of creators, as artists, as storytellers—Indigenous radicals here in *Lenapehoking—to do grassroots organizing and to celebrate our community in the reinvigoration and revitalization of our cultures.
[*Lenapehoking comprises the unceded territory of the Lenape People, upon which the city of New York was built.]
Photos by Cristina Verán.
CV: As a designer yourself, Korina, you’ve had a personal trajectory through the fashion industry. What experiences from that have shaped your views and this mission?
KE: The first piece I ever made, for the record, was my own jingle dress regalia! I’ve presented some of my own work in New York Fashion Week before. I've also done Indian Market in Santa Fe, Vancouver Indigenous Fashion Week, and Fashion Art Toronto, among other spaces and places, working with and inspired by people like Amber Dawn Bearrobe, Sage Paul, and Joleen Mitton. I’m really inspired by what they’ve been able to build. And I’ve gotten to do costume design and other work—including for an opera!—with artists like Autumn Chacón (Diné/ Chicana), Laura Ortman (White Mountain Apache), Jeffrey Gibson (Choctaw/ Cherokee), and Raven Chacón (Diné) as well.
LS: I had been going to support Korina at some of those fashion shows for years. And then, also, I was asked to walk the runway myself during Fashion Week Brooklyn; an unexpected experience, considering that I’m only 5 ft. tall and not a model! I came to realize that those typical, traditional fashion industry events just aren’t designed for us—not for Indigenous designers or even the models walking the runways. The makeup artists weren’t really able to shade-match Indigenous skin tones, for example, and the stylists weren’t particularly good to our people's hair, not respecting it. Instead of demanding that their shows accommodate us, however, we decided to create our own space, our own thing.
CV: That brings us to Relative Arts, the first-ever boutique dedicated to showcasing contemporary Indigenous fashion in New York. It's more than just a store—it’s an anchor. How did it all come together, and what did you envision as its offerings?
LS: Korina understood the fashion world and had so many connections in it, and both of us knew a lot of Indigenous radical thinkers and activists. Though it may be secondary to what we do at the store, the initial impetus for it was to create a kind of safe space that was really our own, where the community knew our doors were open and welcoming to them. We’ve met so many people from so many places, just because of this place, as you’ll see in all the Polaroid pics here that we like to do of them; a little love story of Indigeneity in New York.
KE: We wanted to bring together some incredible Indigenous designers and makers, using traditional practices in a contemporary way, and that is also sustainable. There’s so much innovation happening in Indian Country, and yet we’re still mostly represented in places like museum gift shops, not seen as part of the larger fashion universe.
It was also important just to have space, period, to build community. So many Natives come to New York, from all over—for college, for jobs, or whatever—and need a safe place to land and just hang out, celebrating art and feeling at home.
CV: For your fashion week shows, how was INYFW able to present the visions of Indigenous designers while also making sure that the makeup artists, stylists, and models also represented such an array of Indigenousness?
KE: We had our own model casting director, Nishina Shapwaykeesic-Loft (Kanien’kehá:ka), and so made sure to feature models representing the diversity within our Indigenous community, including giving a lot of people new opportunities. Before and after each of our shows, the East Village was just overflowing with all these Native beauties walking around! We deserve that street style moment, with everybody getting noticed in their outfits.
LS: The hair and makeup artists were recruited by our friends Deyah Cassadore (White Mountain/ San Carlos Apache) and Amy Farid (Osage), and with the production team, the volunteers, the front of house and so on, it became this little local economy-of-need for Indigenous creative professionals and artists in New York. There were at least 100 team members paid and working, expanding their networks and building on their skills.
CV: There were some notable added multimedia and performance elements to the runway shows as well. For example, a rap artist engaging playfully with models as they walked, and a video montage celebrating militant civil rights groups from the 1960s/70s (the American Indian Movement, Young Lords, and Black Panthers) played onscreen. How did these and other non-fashion elements become integral to the program?
KE: The Indigenous New York Fashion Week experience included things like live music, videos, b-girls (break-)dancing down the runway, wild contemporary dance performances, and even a rock and roll show down the block. We thought it was really important to represent a broad diversity of talents and creativity within our own community—while showing solidarity with other communities as well; Palestinians for another example.
CV: How did you mitigate the otherwise prohibitive costs to do all of this in an expensive city like New York?
KE: Well, we ended up not actually being funded [externally] this year, and so it came out of our own pockets—we're still paying for it!—and through our community coming together.
LS: It was really central to this mission for us to keep INYFW accessible at every level. The major (non-Indigenous) shows at New York Fashion Week can be anywhere from $500 to $2,000 a ticket, but we capped our ticket prices at $45. Relating to that, at our store the prices for items range from $2 all the way to $2000. We want anyone that comes here to be able to find something.
CV: Some non-Indigenous fans of your designers may be confused about what kinds of Indigenous-made clothing or ornamentation may be appropriate to wear (or not) and by whom, fearing to be called out for some offense. How do you navigate and respond to such concerns?
KE: Our runways featured a mix of things meant for everyone and things more for us—that have a much greater cultural significance. The work of Xander Stonefish (Lunaapeew/ Anishinaabe), an amazing beadwork artist we featured, speaks to both sides. Another designer, Sabrina Lombardo (Rarámuri/ Tigua) presented a very wearable-for-all collection, but also had folks come out during her show carrying cedar dolls. Not all of the things shown on the runway are necessarily for sale.
With regard to the issue of cultural appropriation, part of our mission in this is to educate. There’s clothing as fashion and clothing as regalia; for example, a throw-blanket that’s decorative vs. a blanket used for ceremony. With something like ribbon skirts though, while they are a form of contemporary dress, I would not suggest that someone non-Native wear one because they also have a pretty significant cultural meaning.
CV: How would you explain this meaning and its contexts?
KE: Traditionally, how we dress and how we adorn ourselves has always been to tell the story of who we are, where we're from, and where we've been. The issue with appropriation is not just about, “Hey, that doesn't belong to you!” It is also about the history of Native Americans being forcibly assimilated and how, at the Indian boarding schools, virtually any kind of cultural identifier we had that we cherished was taken away from us and literally outlawed.
LS: We’re from the first generations since the boarding school era to be able to reclaim our heritage and regain the pride in cultures—a privilege so many of our parents and grandparents had taken away from them. This is important history for (non-Indigenous) people to know with regard to appropriation, so they can better understand just why it’s so f&%$ed up.
CV: The public profile of and acclaim for Indigenous designers is markedly growing around the world, beyond the Americas—Shona Tawhiao (Māori Ngāi TeRangi) in Aotearoa New Zealand, Nickie Isaksen (Kalaallit Inuk) based in Denmark, and Amine Bendriouich (Moroccan Amazigh) in Germany, are some highlights. Meanwhile, (mainstream) New York Fashion Week this year even included its first-ever full collection from an Indigenous designer, Jamie Okuma (Luiseño/ Shoshone-Bannock). How has the reception you get from fashion industry leaders in New York changed since your mission first began?
KE: Well, we created all this because they weren’t listening. Now? They’re coming to us—finally—and saying, “This was so needed! We want to tap into all of it!” The Council of Fashion Designers of America has reached out to us, and I asked them, “Are you calling me because you have no Indigenous representation in the CFDA?” They said, “Yes!” Now, influential fashion leaders like Kelly Cutrone have come to our shows, while some of our own community members—people like Kate Nelson (Tlingit) and Christian Allaire (Ojibwe)—are writing for Vogue, writing for Elle.
CV: Where would you like to see things evolve, toward the future you envision?
KE: Regarding the shows, while we created this platform, we don’t feel like we own the idea of Indigenous New York Fashion Week. We’re pushing for more people to become involved! Beyond that, there is interest around an idea that started with designer Dante Biss-Grayson (Osage) from Sky Eagle Collection, for an International Indigenous Fashion Council.
Relative Arts, meanwhile, is going to start carrying the work of a few Aboriginal designers from Australia in the store soon, as we continue working to advance and expand the representation of Indigeneity in New York.
LS: We have enough community and talent, and we've developed a quite nice roster of Indigenous creative professionals here in the city that can be tapped into again and again, to continue to build an economy of reciprocity within our own community, tapping into new ways of thinking outside of capitalism. I want us to break away from this idea of fashion only existing in connection with commerce—because it’s truly an art form.
--Cristina Verán is an international Indigenous Peoples-focused researcher, educator, advocacy strategist, network weaver, editor, and mediamaker. She was a founding member of the United Nations Indigenous Media Network and the Indigenous Language Caucus. As Adjunct Faculty at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts, she brings emphasis to the global histories, expressions, and socio-political impacts of Indigenous contemporary visual and performing arts, design, and popular culture(s).
Top photo: Korina Emmerich and Liana Shewey, inside the Relative Arts boutique on Manhattan's Lower East Side. Photo by Lucia Vázquez.
