So today I decided to figure out why people keep raving about Colombian designers. Honestly, I had no clue what made them different – just knew folks said they had “unique style”. Tried looking this up online first, got overwhelmed by artsy terms and fancy slideshows. Said screw it, better to see stuff myself.
Started With Street Markets
Grabbed my notebook last Saturday morning and hit Paloquemao market here in Bogota. Saw this bag vendor displaying insane patterns – like someone dumped a rainbow into a blender. Asked her where designs came from. She laughed hard. “My grandmother taught me these parrot feathers and snake scales, gringo! We never copy Gucci.” Took photos like a tourist, scribbled notes about how patterns looked like jungle plants from weird angles.
Actually Tried Making Something
Next day I tracked down a leather workshop in La Candelaria. Young guy Eduardo was hammering crocodile textures onto a belt. Asked him to show me basics. Big mistake. Spent three hours sweating: scraped the leather too thin, dyed my hands cobalt blue, nearly sewed my thumb to the strap. Eduardo finally sighed, took over, and magically turned my garbage into a decent wallet corner. His words stuck: “We don’t fear ugly phases. Your first try must suck or you didn’t risk enough.”
Forced Myself Into Embroidery Hell
Wanted to understand those mental textiles better. Bought needles and thread on Tuesday. Attempted the “simple” chumbe pattern that was basically parallel zigzags. After:
- Stabbing myself six times
- Tangling thread into spider nests
- Producing a lopsided monster
…I nearly cried. Quilter down the street mercifully rescued me. “Child, these shapes carry indigenous stories. You don’t just stitch – you have to feel the mountains.” Realized it’s less about perfect lines than the raw energy.
Why This Actually Matters
After the week’s disasters? I get it now. Colombian designers:
- Mash ancestral stuff with street chaos deliberately
- Use mistakes as part of the design (“wabi-sabi ain’t got nothin’ on us”)
- Could turn a trash bag into haute couture with some neon thread
They don’t follow trends – they start from jungle dirt and city grit and build upwards. My butt still hurts from the embroidery stool, but damn. Respect.
