I dress to remember who I am

dispatch from latin america: how many colors, textures, and silhouettes do I still have left to explore?

Welcome from inside the Lekondo fitting room. A weekly dispatch from between the mirror and the door:

Each issue explores a theme, highlights some standouts, and introduces what’s new — in the app, on the streets, or inside your wardrobe’s collective unconscious.

This issue comes from @mirimoon, Miranda Luna. Miranda is a digital marketing strategist and the creator of Colombian Chic?, a curated newsletter unveiling the stories, trends and talents reshaping Colombian fashion. Based in Medellín, she blends her communications expertise with a passion for spotlighting local talent and the stories behind fashion.

In Latin America, it’s still difficult to document fashion. There aren’t sprawling digital archives of runway shots or documentaries on local designers. If you want to trace how a creative evolves, you have to piece it together yourself. And on social media, anything that could be an archive evaporates in 24 hours, buried under likes and views.

That’s slowly changing. Here in Colombia, the local fashion scene is growing in popularity, and wearing local brands has never been “cooler”. But what’s the point of consuming if everything gets lost in the feed?

Building a visual diary — even if it’s just of my own closet — has become an intimate, exciting way to create an archive, especially when wearing local pieces. Taking the photo not for external validation and likes, but to build my own references and understand the identity I’m creating as the fashion scene in my country grows.

my outfit calendar!

Thanks to Lekondo, that archive doesn’t get lost in my phone’s gallery or dissolve into algorithms. It can live in a space that allows me to return, observe, compare, and connect. In a world that tells us we should look all the same, keeping a record of the local brands I wear—and noticing how they shape my sense of belonging— is deeply reaffirming.

That visual diary has turned into a map of my obsessions. I’ve noticed I reach for more patterned pants than I thought, that I have a soft spot for greens and yellows even though I swear I’m “not a color person”, and that I’m still torn between loose silhouettes and fitted garments. What follows are fragments of that map: my fits and the aesthetics I’m creating without even noticing.

Firmware Update for a Linen Cloud

This pleated skirt intimidates me. I love its color and the way it falls, but every time I wear it, I feel like I’m weighed down by all those ideas about how a woman’s body “should” be shown. But the first time I put it on with this white shirt, I just didn’t care anymore. Suddenly, it stopped being a difficult piece and started feeling comfortable.

If I had to name what came out of it, I’d call it my “cloudy” aesthetic: I felt light, almost suspended. What might look like a school uniform to someone else becomes playful to me because of the color. And the accessories —a green bag with lime handles and a glass pineapple necklace, both from Colombian brands— act like anchors. They remind me that this silhouette experiment is mine, and that I get to inhabit it on my own terms.

Dark Mode Ferns Remember Passwords

I like to think of this as my “fantasy rock star” look. A bit dark, a little dramatic, almost gothic-romantic, but really it’s just me trying on something different. I enjoy exploring what it feels like to inhabit that slightly bolder alter ego through this see-through lace dress. Wearing it with wide jeans underneath is my way of making it more everyday and bringing that fantasy into real life for a moment.

Softbody Avatar Updates Its Jeans

This pleated tulle top is, without a doubt, one of the most challenging pieces in my closet. I still struggle to figure out how to style something so wide and so light, but pairing it with jeans is how I ground its dreamy air. I like to play with textures and colors that shouldn’t work together and yet somehow do. I feel like it’s a piece I’ll never get tired of experimenting with.

How many colors, textures, and silhouettes do I still have left to explore?

Keeping a visual record of what I wear helps me find an answer to that question. I get excited thinking about what my own fashion universe might look like in a year or two. Maybe I’ll look back at these outfits and remember everything I was learning about my culture, or notice that I stopped wearing certain colors and decide to bring them back. That exercise keeps me documenting and helps me establish a visual conversation with past versions of myself.