How My Mom Taught Me to Be Bold Through My Outfits

I can't tell you exactly when I developed my passion for fashion; I suppose I inherited it from my mother.

One of my earliest memories is precisely about fashion. My mom signed me up for the Head Start talent show to perform a song by — you guessed it — Selena Quintanilla. My mom, who had a full-time job in government, then decided I needed the purple jumpsuit — you know which one I'm talking about. But mine wasn't purple; we thought it was too Barney-like for someone my age, so we went with my favorite color: pink. I still remember it vividly; it was a satin-like fabric in baby pink that covered my chest and my legs, but my midriff was exposed — adorable for a 3-year-old, but quite scandalous, too. I twirled and twirled on that stage. I was unstoppable; I was powerful.

Sadly, it would be a few years until I developed a true fashion sense. It happens when you go to private school and wear the same uniform from kinder to high school senior year. Throughout those years, I just went along with whatever was in style at the time and what my mom deemed appropriate for my age. I went through every phase: the graphic tees with the funky-colored Converse, the thick belt wrapped around my waist with almost every outfit, the monochrome, the stack of bracelets and massive earrings to spruce up my uniform.

Every 2000s fashion trend out there, I did it. And I always focused on bright colors. You would have never caught me wearing black back then — the first time I ever wore an all-black outfit was in college, and people asked me if I was sick.

I never realized that bright colors were a Latinx thing. We are typically stereotyped as bold and loud, and I've found that that stereotype is expected of our fashion sense, too. Thinking back at my time living in Puerto Rico, I rarely saw someone dress in all black by choice. If they did, they were on their way to a funeral, or they had to dress like that for work. The fashion I remember in Puerto Rico is tropical; it's loud, proud, red and white, and yellow and green. It's red lipstick even when you're walking to the pharmacy. It was a pop of color for me. Every picture of my time back home is of me in a stunning, out-of-place shoe. And I took that with me to Syracuse for grad school.

I took part in the UGG boots and leggings trend (I still do!), but rest assured that I was rocking bright-pink lipstick in the middle of winter or orange shoes for graduation (go Orange!). I hated my dress back then, but my shoes were different than the typical black-and-beige strappy sandals most girls were wearing. One of the professors, who shook my hand after receiving my diploma and had no idea who I was, complimented them. It was the highlight of my day.

Once I moved to New York City, it was hard to not fall into the same rhythm as everyone: daring fashion in all black. And although I do end up rocking all black a lot of the time, color is still my thing. I realized that I stand out and claim my Puerto Ricanness through my fashion. That's one thing my mom taught me de su tiempo. She always gushed about how she rocked a new outfit every Friday and how the owners of the boutiques around her workplace knew her and would call her whenever they had new merchandise because they knew she was the person to rock it. I aim to be as free with my fashion style as her.

These days, my extensive collection of brightly colored heels has taken a backseat because New York City streets are all about being comfortable — though don't think I haven't run around in four-inch heels for the sake of fashion. I've traded them in for a very sturdy few pairs of neutral sneakers that I can pair with an all-blue outfit (blue is a universally loved color by Puerto Ricans, as it represents the ocean) or with a bright-green dress that reminds me of my days exploring El Yunque tropical rainforest. Everything I wear these days keeps me connected to my Puerto Ricanness, because it's either something my mom would have worn, it was purchased on the island from small boutiques, or it represents an element from the island that I call my home.