It’s not every day that a red carpet at Paris Men’s Fashion Week becomes a canvas for Mexican-American history—but for Willy Chavarria, it was the only way to do it justice. With his Spring/Summer 2026 collection titled “Huron”—a nod to his California hometown—the designer delivered a powerful 74-look narrative that fused style with social legacy. Oversized zoot suits, embroidered workwear, cholo-inspired streetwear, and splashy mod references collided in a show that felt both rooted in tradition and fully in step with today’s cultural pulse.
Chavarria has long used fashion as a platform for heritage and protest, and this season was no exception. Opening with punchy, wide-shouldered suiting in bold hues, the show leaned into the spirit of pachucos—Mexican-American style rebels of the 1940s whose dress became a symbol of resistance. Pocket squares, boxy cuts, and silky textures served old-school elegance, but the energy felt modern. As the show unfolded, that clean tailoring gave way to contemporary cholo codes: oversized shorts paired with tights, buttoned-to-the-top flannels, and chain details that nodded to both streetwear and survival.
There was also a strong current of purpose. Chavarria’s recurring workwear aesthetic returned with updates—embroidered “Chavarria Community Centre” patches, utility keychains, and jackets that read “Justice, Honor, Integrity—Chavarria Global Unification Association.” He’s not just dressing people—he’s imagining a community. The garments felt like uniforms for workers in an idealized, equity-driven future, where fashion is part of the function.
That imagined world was diverse and inclusive. Womenswear looks appeared throughout, offering sharply cinched trench coats, curve-accentuating dresses, and bold tights in mod-inspired hues. Models like Paloma Elsesser, Gabriette, and NFL star Stefon Diggs strutted down the carpeted runway, exuding the kind of raw glamour that made the collection feel not only lived-in, but lived-forward.
Styling amplified every beat of the narrative. Gravity-defying hairstyles, bold beauty, and black-out sunglasses offered a distinct swagger—an homage to the cool confidence of past subcultures, reinterpreted for now. For a show rooted in history, Huron didn’t feel like a throwback. It felt like a bridge.
This wasn’t just a tribute to Chicano culture—it was a full-on reclamation of space, of voice, of identity. In true Willy Chavarria fashion, the message wasn’t shouted. It was tailored.
