DURANGO, Colo.—When USA Today pronounced Durango the “least fashion conscious” city in America in 1988, few predicted the wound would last.
Yet it has festered.
A Facebook group, “Trying to Make Durango a Better Dressed Town in General” (MDBD), is only the most recent manifestation of Durango’s ongoing sartorial identity crisis.
Founded five years ago, MDBD is committed to helping “Durangoans understand that it is not OK to be poorly dressed all of the time.”
Socks “should not be worn with sandals,” it gravely intones. “Hunting jackets are to be worn hunting.”
But to the feisty—and thriving—group of boutique retailers who dominate Main Avenue’s rag trade, such lectures are hogwash.
“That stigma we’ve gotten caught with is unreasonable,” says Rani Holt, the owner of Gloss, which opened three years ago. “Our town is savvy about fashion, much more so now than before.”
Tell that to the 97 inconsolable members of MDBD. While Snowdown’s annual “Fashion Dos and Don’ts” pays winking homage to Durango’s dowdy reputation, the rhetoric of its discussion board evokes both trauma victims and the civil-rights movement.
Chelsea Blair Serzen writes, “I am seriously disturbed by the lack of fashion sense in Durango!”
Erin Neale, on the other hand, rejects such despair. That week, Neale was to give an “inspirational speech” at her high school. “And I, my friends, am inspiring the people of Durango to dress better.”
Zach McGill simply became defensive. “Being one of the worst-dressed towns in the nation is a badge of honor.”
But retailers such as Nina Quiros, owner of Blu—Main Avenue’s priciest boutique—dismiss such polemics as half-correct at best.
While Quiros acknowledged the tenacity of Durangoans’ unofficial uniform, as provided by Patagonia and North Face, she said such labels barely constitute 75 percent of her customers’ closets. “The rest’s designer wear.”
Quiros laughed when asked if there were parallels between her recent jaunt volunteering in Africa and her longer-standing mission, bringing fashion to Durango.
“We only opened four years ago. Yet when I go out at night, I definitely see women wearing our clothing—especially our denim. Still, most days, I’ll wear a little above what’s necessary, to remind other women it’s OK to rock some wedges and cute jeans.”
Quiros reported that Blu is reaping its “biggest summer yet. The girls in this town are starting to dress, wanting to dress—and we’re providing that.”
According to Durango’s Melissa McConnell—who writes the inventive if inclement blog “Worst Dressed Town in America”—Durango is more stylish than is popularly supposed.
“At first, I was sitting on a bench outside Starbucks with my friends, making fun of the crazy outfits that made their way down Main. But blogging about fashion here has been really eye-opening. I’m starting to learn that fashion here is a really freeing concept.”
McConnell said Durangoans had become markedly sharper dressers thanks in large part to the city’s affordable boutiques.
Holt explained, “We take care not to price our buying locals out of the market.”
But McConnell also said that “thrifting” in particular had “gotten really cool.”
“You’d get an awesome jacket—people’s reaction used to be ‘someone died in that.’ Not anymore!” said McConnell.
Indeed, Wildflower, a prosperous local boutique, exclusively purveys vintage attire. Opened 21 years ago, its owner, Stephanie Chambers, is unperturbed by burgeoning competition on Main Avenue.
“What’s available here is available nowhere else. Everything I carry is vintage. In terms of local style, I determine where I want to see things go, then I move them in that direction,” Chambers said.
Have Durangoans started to follow?
“There’s been such an influx of people from all over—this country, Europe. We’ve a different kind of cadence than we had even five years ago. Some still run around with tights and shorts on. But what I see is a very erudite and visually conscious group of people,” she said.
New York-based designer Monique Pean—staunch favorite of first lady Michelle Obama and Vogue editor Anna Wintour, and winner of the Council of Fashion Designers of America’s $100,000 grant for groundbreaking design—said Durango’s growing affinity for fashion is nothing to fear.
“You don’t lose your roots because you have more choices,” she said.
Pean, who grew up in Virginia, subscribed to Vogue from age 8. The wait for each month’s issue was passionate, not patient. “In a small town, you don’t necessarily have the stores you would have on Madison Avenue. I’d get so excited when it arrived on my doorstep,” she said.
Pean started saying that the Internet and globalization had changed everything, when she became distracted by a disembodied voice. An assertive exchange ensued.
“Sorry, we’re preparing for Fashion Week,” she said.
On returning to the interview, Pean was ponderous. “You know, the Southwestern look is very in right now,” she said, citing leather boots, suede hats and turquoise jewelry.
“So come fall, you guys will go from being one of the least fashionable cities to one of the most,” she said.
