THE HOME I SSUE | V O LUM E 19 | FALL 2018
W E L C O M E
Welcome to the Home Issue! It’s always bittersweet
and anxieties of traveling between two places she
when summer slips away, but autumn inspires us
considers home: the United States and Mexico.
to slow down a bit and take stock. It’s a season
Santa Fe writer, editor, and model Maria
of metamorphosis: the trees take on a dazzling
Manuela debuts a fable called A Boy Named
palette, while we step out in cozy new sweaters
Adobe, which is excerpted from her forthcoming
and countless other layers. Fall is a time to open
collection of short folk tales. The story is paired
up to new opportunities and rediscover community,
with photographs by Hayley Rhaegan and
even as we’re preparing to coop up for winter.
Danny Allegretti, featuring clothing from Santa
As we brought this issue together, our most
Fe vintage boutique Dandelion Guild. Albuquer-
common gathering place was the Santa Fe living
que photographer Jenn Carrillo invites us on a
room of our guest editor Jordan Eddy and his
thrift shopping adventure in a photoshoot with
partner, Kyle Farrell. We sprawled on the squashy
clothing from Mill & Finery and Natural High
red couch, munched on carrot muffins, sipped
Vintage, while Santa Fe art critic Iris McLister
Mariah’s kombucha, and meditated on the myriad
offers up a colorful meditation on her personal
meanings of home. One evening, we worked with
passion for thrifting.
Kyle to transform their little backyard for a very
Albuquerque journalist Maggie Grimason
sweet photoshoot. All of us grew up in other places,
introduces us to Santa Fe designer Trilby Nelson,
so part of making Santa Fe our home involved
whose work appears in a style story by Santa Fe
indulging in lots of comfort food, like the Mexican
photographer Brad Trone. Sisters Jordan and
sweet breads you’ll see in the Editor’s Shoot.
Madison Craig of the Oakland-based custom
Whether you live in your hometown or have
lingerie label Shy Natives point out that home
chosen a new one, the true essence of “home”
is about wearing things that actually fit. Poetry
is something you carry inside you. It’s a truth
by Santa Fe poet Dan Bohnhorst floats through
that emerges in each of the stories and shoots
dreamy imagery by Lindsey Kennedy. Finally, an
that appear in the Home Issue. In these pages, we
infographic by guest editor Jordan Eddy reminds
meet Albuquerque artist Grace Rosario Perkins,
us that home is something that should never be
who talks about returning to her home state of
taken for granted.
New Mexico after building an artistic career in Oakland. Santa Fe photographer Danny Allegretti
Enjoy,
takes us on a colorful tour of Grace’s live-work
Mariah, Darnell & Jordan
studio and neighborhood. In a personal essay,
1905magazineblog@gmail.com
Santa Fe artist Daisy Quezada recounts the joys
cover image: Lindsey Kennedy | on the left: photography by Amy West | styled by Kyle Farrell
keep up with the contributors and their work on their Instagrams and websites
editors
MARIAH ROMERO co-editor | art director illustration & design @mriah_rose mariahromero.com
DARNELL THOMAS
LINDSEY KENNEDY @lindsekennedy lindseyrinkennedy.com
HAYLEY RHEAGAN @heyraygun
JASON STILGEBOUER
@jammminjay etsy.com/shop/JasonsPhotoStore
JORDAN EDDY
BRAD TRONE @bradtrone bradtrone.com
AMY WEST photography
DANNY ALLEGRETTI @allegretts dannyallegretti.com
JENN CARRILLO @jennisradd jenncarrillo.com
@mariamanuela
IRIS MCLISTER @irisbro
DAISY QUEZADA
co-editor | art director @dudeitsdarnell
guest editor | writer @santafeshuffle strangersartcollective.com
MARIA MANUELA
@videovidvideo words
DAN BOHNHORST MAGGIE GRIMASON @infantamarina
@daisyquezadaaurena style
KYLE FARRELL
@kylefrrll strangersartcollective.com
S H O P T H E PA G E S SUPPORT SMALL BUSINESSES. SUPPORT BROWN BUSINESSES. SUPPORT BLACK BUSINESSES. SUPPORT QUEER-OWNED BUSINESSES. SUPPORT WOMEN-OWNED BUSINESSES. SUPPORT LOCAL ARTISTS. SUPPORT INDIGENOUS ARTISTS. BUY VINTAGE. KNOW WHO MADE YOUR CLOTHES. KNOW YOUR ARTISTS. KNOW WHERE YOUR FOOD COMES FROM. BUY LOCAL. BUY FAIR TRADE. EAT LOCAL. BUY ITEMS THAT MAKE YOU LOVE YOURSELF.
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TRILBY NELSON
words by Maggie Grimason photography by Brad Trone
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24
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A BOY NAMED ADOBE
words by Maria Manuela photography by Hayley Rheagan & Danny Allgretti
SHY NATIVES
photography by Andrea Gutiérrez
GRACE ROSARIO PERKINS words by Jordan Eddy photography by Danny Allegretti
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38
LACK THEREOF
32
ALMOST HOME
poetry by Dan Bohnhorst photography by Lindsey Kennedy
words by Jordan Eddy
HOME AWAY
words by Daisy Quezada photography by Jason Stilgebouer
40
ON THRIFTING
words by Iris McLister photography by Jenn Carrillo
SWEET HOME
Designer Trilby Nelson has had desertscapes on the horizon since she was a child. Born in Los Angeles, she spent a few formative years of her youth in New Mexico, recently returning to Santa Fe, where she lives and works, designing textiles that reflect both her ethics and her joys. “I like making things that are playful and cozy,” she said. Those emotions surface in large throws in recycled cotton with organic images and vibrant colors, woven felt tubs, and wall hangings. Each item begins as a hand-drawn sketch, and is later translated into textile through collaboration with manufacturers in the U.S. The materials—their origins, their quality, and their production—are integral to the design process, selected for their sustainability and high standards. Woven together, these values and ethics create items for the home that just feel good to have around. “I really enjoy designing for the home,” Nelson explained, “I’m always thinking about the environment it will be in and the person using it and how it might fit into their lives.” Often reflecting Nelson’s chosen home of the Desert Southwest in palette and form, these functional art objects are imbued with an appreciation of place and aim to—softly and sweetly— help others make their home, too, wherever that might be.
Maggie Grimason is a writer living in Albuquerque. She is the Arts & Literature editor of the Weekly Alibi and contributes to many other independent publications. When she’s not writing, she’s watching the birds.
words by Maggie Grimason | photography by Brad Trone photo assistant: Brandon Soder | art direction by Darnell Thomas clothing from Dandelion Guild | model: Julian Bonfiglio
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DESIGN SPOTLIGHT | SUPPORT WOMEN-OWNED BUSINESSES
S H Y N AT I V E S OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
Founded by Northern Cheyenne sisters Madison and Jordan Craig in 2017, Shy Natives aims to empower women with their handmade, customized lingerie. Shy Natives is in the nascence of their establishment, and the sisters work towards making their art a full-time commitment. Each piece is designed, patterned and sewn by Madison. After years of struggling with fit, she taught herself how to sew bralettes and underwear. Seeing a need for custom-fit, locally-made undergarments, the sister duo founded Shy Natives to provide beautiful, comfortable products to fit women of all sizes. Shy Natives is not a standard indie lingerie brand. It is an ongoing art and social project. The sisters collaborate with photographers, videographers, artists and musicians to create beautiful, meaningful content in addition to their handmade pieces. Our world has oversexualized and objectified Indigenous women for far too long. Ultimately, Shy Natives aims to redefine and reclaim sensuality of Native peoples, and inspire all women to take power and pride in their bodies.
images courtesy of Shy Natives | photography by Andrea GutiĂŠrrez assistant photographer: Jacob Martinez | models: Ala Ho, Alexis Perez, Serena Adams, Sidtia Sidt kun | videographer: Matthew Freiheit
FARAWAY FRIENDS | SUPPORT BROWN BUSINESSES
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A BOY NAMED ADOBE words by Maria Manuela | photography by Hayley Rheagan fashion photography by Danny Allegretti | clothing from Dandelion Guild art direction by Mariah Romero | model: Khalah Mitchell
Adobe was a little boy who lived in the desert. He loved to run, and he ran from the time he finished breakfast until the sun disappeared behind the mountains. He ran through the hills, around the cacti and chamisa with his bare toes digging into the sand. He ran because he wanted to be everywhere, and see every bit of the desert. The spiny plants, and bright-tailed lizards, the tops of mountains and the bend of every river. He wanted to see it soaked from monsoon rainstorms, and frozen in a blanket of white snow. Every day he ran, he thought the same thought over and over in his head. “I want to see the desert, all of it at once. I want to see the desert, all of it at once.” He repeated these words in his head as he ran, a song to the beat of his feet hitting the earth. One day, Adobe got his wish. As he ran he met a tower of dust, spinning in a sandy arroyo. The winds around it were fast and the boy struggled against them. He leaned into them and pushed forward with his runner’s legs until he broke into the center. It was calm and windless there, where Life was waiting for him. Adobe asked to see the desert, all of it at once. His wish was granted and now he exists in every bit of dirt. He comes alive when you mix him with a bit of straw and water, and form him into a home. Adobe is happy, and spends all his days gazing at desert, all at once.
A Boy Named Adobe is an excerpt from Maria Manuela’s forthcoming collection of short folk tales, inspired by her lifelong experience of New Mexico’s landscape and multifaceted culture. A freelance writer based in Santa Fe, Maria has modeled for 1905 Magazine and was guest editor of the Friend Issue in summer 2018.
SHORT FICTION | SUPPORT SMALL BUSINESSES
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Grace Rosario Perkins words by Jordan Eddy | photography by Danny Allegretti
“Yeah, I’m not minimal at all,” says Grace
woman. It’s about the way I’m told not to take up
Rosario Perkins. We’re standing in her Albuquerque
space, or not be loud or expressive in a specific way.”
live-work studio at the mouth of her closet, which
Through five little tales of her life, Grace recounts
is really just the space underneath the loft where
a far-flung personal unfurling—in her art, life, and
she sleeps. Even in dim overhead lighting, Grace’s
style—that eventually lead her back to the land she’s
wardrobe is eye-popping—an undulating sea of color
always considered home.
and pattern that makes the cramped space seem vast. If this were a Narnia-like portal, I know what the world on the other side would look like. Grace pulls out her iPhone and summons a
Grace was born at Santa Fe Indian Hospital on
photo of her old Oakland studio, which is packed
Cerrillos Road. She lived in a number of places
floor-to-ceiling with visually cacophonous canvases.
throughout her childhood, but Santa Fe was home
The artist is dead center, immersed in a universe of
base. It was there that her father, Olen Perkins, built
her own creation (and destruction, considering her
his own reputation as a painter, and where her uncle
penchant for completely painting over compositions
Michael McCabe taught her printmaking techniques
that she’s worked on for ages). Her canvases hold
in his studio off Second Street. One day when she
tangles of gestural brushstrokes and partially
was at Santa Fe High, Grace skipped a class and
submerged text, reflecting an overarching exploration
hightailed it for the hills. “When I came back, the
of the layered, twisty nature of memory and identity.
security guard said to me, ‘If you’re going to ditch,
During Grace’s time in Oakland, where she went to college and started her artistic career, the painter’s domestic routine and studio practice were quite
don’t dress so loudly,’” she recalls. “I guess he watched me slowly disappear off campus.” Back in junior high, Grace had boasted a
separate. “My former bedroom in Oakland was just
typical 90’s-youth-in-Santa-Fe style—“hooped bangs,
like a bed and a plant and maybe two framed pieces
crunchy hair, wide-legged jeans, the whole thing”—
of art,” she says. Since returning to her home state
but then she got her first two punk records. “I was
of New Mexico last May, Grace has brought the two
just like ‘whatever’ and shaved half my head,” she
worlds crashing together. “Here, I come downstairs
says. By high school, her hair was bright green and
and I’m like, ‘Oh, shit,’” she says. Her new space
she wore red lipstick and vintage dresses every day. “I
is in a former bookshop not far from downtown
only went to Santa Fe High for a little bit, but people
Albuquerque, and the front room where Grace has set
remember me if you say, ‘Did you know the girl with
up her studio is still lined with dark brown shelving.
the green hair?’” Grace says.
Right now the shelves are vacant but for a few books and small sculptures, because Grace is exhibiting in seven shows across the nation. “This is like the most empty it’s been,” she says, sounding
After dropping out of high school, Grace took a GED
a little forlorn. “But I think there’s something to be
course that was in a strip mall near a comic book
said about being maximal, especially being a Native
store. “I was really into Love and Rockets, just a specific
ARTIST PROFILE | SUPPORT INDIGENOUS ARTISTS
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set of alt comics,” she says. “I’d exclusively draw
in the context of looking at it as reclamation,” Grace
things like that in the beginning, lots of weird and
says. “But it’s also something that’s really complicated.
grotesque faces, and then I got into painting. They
Language is expression, and expression is tied to your
were full of images and symbols, naively political stuff
identity, and identity is part of home.”
that I’d never paint now. I was a teenager, you know?” One thing Grace’s early paintings had in common with her current work was their vivid palette. Another element that has carried forward is the DIY
“When I moved to Oakland, that’s when I had a
philosophy she developed at that time. “I was a Native
moment where I was like, ‘Ohhh.’ I just kind of had
punk kid who made art, but the art I had to look up to
culture shock,” says Grace. She was headed to Mills
was always outside of my own identity,” Grace says.
College, a private, all-women’s university, to study
“For me, DIY culture is about accessibility. I want to
English after a brief stint studying film in Arizona.
be relatable to specific people, and I always want to
“I was like, ‘What the fuck?’ Everyone there was in
have zines or t-shirts or something there for kids who
such a different position than me,” she says. She tried
can’t afford to buy my paintings.”
on a few different majors—English, art history—but completed her degree in intermedia arts (also known as video arts) with a minor in art history. Her artistic practice had expanded to encompass video, paintings,
At 17, Grace left Santa Fe to live between her parents’
sculptures, and performance. One video piece folded
reservations. Her mom is Diné, from Navajo Nation
together audio from phone conversations with
in Northern Arizona, and her dad hails from Tohono
excerpts from letters and old photos to tell the story of
O’odham Nation in Southern Arizona. “The thing
her grandfather, who was a Vietnam vet.
that’s intense about reservations is that the only industry is social services,” she says. “Being on a
After school, Grace started exploring the idea
reservation, you kind of just work for the tribe.” Her
of taking up space in earnest. She mounted solo
time living on the reservations was an opportunity to
exhibitions with dozens of paintings installed edge-
connect with her grandparents and begin practicing
to-edge, and created a series of large-scale, mask-like
her ancestral languages, a pursuit that would later
sculptures that project into the viewer’s sphere. She
figure prominently into her work.
also cofounded an artist group called Black Salt
“All of my grandparents went to boarding
Collective and started teaching at Bay Area nonprofits
school. My grandmother was punished for speaking
like NIAD and Creativity Explored—new ways to
her language,” Grace says. “It’s humbling and
hold space and speak out. “No shade on painting, but
embarrassing to be in a space where you’re around
I’m really interested in not just making a painting,”
elders and you can’t talk to them. It’s not a beautiful,
she says. “I want to create a space and have people
amazing experience—it’s actually kind of hard to
enter it. I’m creating a space for the people who need
look through dictionaries and be like, ‘Why is this
it.” Grace’s fashion sense followed suit, and the color
so foreign to me?’” Years later, Grace would begin
world that inhabits her closet came together. “The Bay
weaving partially obscured bits of English, Diné and
Area has a very specific aesthetic,” she says. “If you
O’odham into her paintings and speaking phrases in
went to a DIY show eight years ago, everyone would
performance art pieces. “I’m interested in language
be wearing really bright, colorful, crazy stuff.”
When she returned to New Mexico in May, after eleven
peach red in the paintings.” Though New Mexico is where
years in Oakland, Grace briefly settled in Santa Fe. “I
she officially resides, the artist still takes short-term teaching
don’t know, would you move back to your hometown in
jobs in Oakland and travels across the country exhibiting
your 30’s?” she says. Being there brought up old feelings
her work and participating in artist residencies.
about Santa Fe’s colonial history, and how it informs the
Grace heads out the door of her studio to show me
neocolonial present. “Almost everyone in my family is an
around her neighborhood, pointing out murals that she
artist, so growing up, there were a lot of conversations
loves. Her paintings are cousins to these bright, gritty
around what it meant to be Native and to be contemporary
creations that electrify the urban landscape. “I use dynamic
and to be put in a position where things are expected from
color that’s meant to be a little overwhelming,” Grace says.
us,” she says. “It’s complicated. There are traditions, and
“You have to look at it. You can’t look away.”
then it gets kind of melded with commerce and tourism.” That’s how she landed in Albuquerque, an arm’s length
Jordan Eddy is the marketing director of form & concept, and co-
away from her hometown but still immersed in the desert
director of the emerging art space NO LAND. As an arts writer, he has
landscape that has deeply informed her artwork. “The way
contributed to The Magazine, Santa Fe Reporter, Visual Art Source,
I try to use color is really symbolic and tied to home,” she
art ltd, New Mexico Magazine and other publications.
says. “Being from the desert, it’s all dirt. So I use a lot of this
LACK THEREOF words by Jordan Eddy
The good news about homelessness in the United States is that, since 2007, the rate has decreased across every subpopulation nationally. There’s been a 14.4% decrease overall, a 34.3% decrease among veterans, and a 27.4% decrease in chronic homelessness. That’s according to State of Homelessness, a 2017 report from the National Alliance to End Homelessness, from which we drew the numbers on this page. The bad news is that numbers are famously bad at telling individual stories. As you read these statistics, picture one person—a child, a parent, a teen, or a veteran—and let them guide you through the forest of digits and percentages. It’s a reminder that, while home is something you can carry inside of you, a physical home is something that should never be taken for granted.
Jordan Eddy is the marketing director of form & concept, and co-director of the emerging art space NO LAND. As an arts writer, he has contributed to The Magazine, Santa Fe Reporter, Visual Art Source, art ltd, New Mexico Magazine and other publications.
553,742
number of homeless people in the United States, according to the last national estimate (2016-2017)
40,056
14.3% PERCENTAGE INCREASE OF
UNACCOMPANIED CHILDREN AND
homeless veterans.
YOUNG ADULTS EXPERIENCING
HOMELESSNESS BETWEEN 2016 AND 2017. THIS DEMOGRAPHIC EXPERIENCED THE
40,799
LARGEST INCREASE IN HOMELESSNESS
homeless people are unaccompanied children or young adults.
360,867
homeless people live in some form of shelter or in transitional housing.
192,875
OVER THAT TIME PERIOD.
33%
OF HOMELESS PEOPLE ARE IN FAMILY UNITS WITH CHILDREN.
homeless people live in a place not meant for human habitation, such as the street or an abandoned building.
HOW TO HELP
2,482 11.9
number of homeless people in New Mexico, according to the last state estimate.
number of homeless people per 10,000 people in New Mexico.
Without adequate federal funding, our communities can’t end homelessness. Send a letter to your representative in support of $2.8 billion in Homeless Assistance Grants funding for fiscal year 2019. For more information, visit endhomelessness.org and nmceh.org to take action, donate, and learn more about different homeless programs for funding.
INFOGRAPHIC
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Friends in the ancient river’s oxbow, T’ang Dynasty poets, raising onions while your country slaughters itself,
hello.
ALM O S T HO M E poetry by Daniel Bohnhorst | photography by Lindsey Kennedy
Felt I was almost home. A voice I couldn’t see arrested me, mid-river, saying “Not this way… not yet.”
POETRY
33
Remember. Memory, put it together again. The lane of elm trees bending before the thunderstorm. Our shrieks of happiness as we rushed to clear the table in time.
A few deep breaths and I burst out laughing now, on the street behind the body shop, no reason, you.
Home Away words by Daisy Quezada | photography by Jason Stilgebouer
It’s been several years since my family and I made the trip to Totatiche, Jalisco. When I was a child, we would journey back and forth visiting family on either side of the US-Mexico border. Nowadays when I make my way to Mexico it is predominantly to Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua. Some people have told me that going there is unnecessary and dangerous. My intentions have nothing to do with security or entertainment; rather, I am situating a place. It is at times unsettling, painful, and distant, but I find my home to be there, where the stem and possibility of freedom resides. The space where the US and Mexico meet has become that for me—the gray. It is a transitional location where most would prefer not to be. You are looked at as an anomaly if you want to exist there. This is my “home.” A home away from home. The first time I crossed the divide without my family was daunting. As the group of individuals I was traveling with approached the Santa Teresa Port of Entry in New Mexico I felt a pull inside of me, not from behind but from ahead. As we hit a tope (speed bump) and approached the light that would decide if we would be inspected or not, the feeling dissipated and an ease began to emerge, with lingering precaution. I’ve since made this crossing on my own regularly and have come to realize the internal draw comes as a form of localizing the self in this evershifting space. Not only does this “home” reside there at the border, but in La Boquilla, where I once spent summers learning to embroider with grandma Ciliotilde; in Delaware where I learned to see beyond the haze; and more recently in the courtroom of immigration Judge Robert Hough in El Paso, where my uncle is asking forgiveness from the country he has given so much to. This space that is not seen as a place is “home,” not only for myself but for many people—some not by choice. We are in search of something more, something beyond. Daisy Quezada is a visual artist and educator based in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Within her practice she creates ceramic works and installations that speak on themes of identity and place in relation to social structures that cross between borders.
DEAR DIARY | SUPPORT LOCAL ARTISTS
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words by Iris McLister | photography by Jenn Carrillo clothing by Natural High & Mill and Finery model: Judah Estrella
ON THRIFTING For years my ex would tease me for coming home from the thrift store with mugs that said things like “14th Annual Cincinnati Gynecological Conference” or “Special Uncle.” I would hold them up to him, asking, “Who in the world would actually buy this?” The joke, of course, is that I would, but surely, I argued, not in the earnest, unironic way their original owners must have. Who would buy a portrait of a gold-chained pit bull, painted on black velvet? Or a practically threadbare cardigan in noxious shades of teal and pink? I would, and have, and derive quantifiably more pleasure from old things than from new ones, feeling deeply satisfied whenever I eschew the utilitarian for something with a little heart and soul. Certainly the best scores serve a purpose, at least nominally; that which is functional and funky is every thrifter’s dream. No, my cross-stitched Elvis, embellished liberally with purple sequins, is emphatically not in this category, nor is my lone, unpaired bookend of a ravishingly handsome Jesus. But my glass-topped coffee table, with its heavy, psychedelically carved base, might have been plucked from a late-70s discotheque, and has both aesthetic and practical merit. I tell myself I stop short of pure schlock, but of course that’s subjective. A toothbrush holder molded into a maniacally grinning Chewbacca, lemon-yellow polyester pants, a Vegas showgirl figurine that’s just a pink-bikinied Barbie on a plastic pedestal: the “value” of these things isn’t obtuse or specific, it’s pretty much nonexistent. Still, some heady combination of cheapness, impulsiveness, and sheer love of schlock keeps me walking through the aisles.
Iris McLister is the daughter of a Florida clam farmer, but don’t ask her to eat anything with a shell on it. She has worked in the Santa Fe art world for nearly a decade, and has contributed to regional and national arts publications.
PERSONAL ESSAY | BUY VINTAGE
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buy local TRILBY NELSON Santa Fe, New Mexico @trilbynelson | trilbynelson.com Trilby Nelson is a Santa Fe-based designer. Her studio practice focuses on textiles and products for the home. She also has a background in Environment Design and is an Exhibition Designer for the state museums of New Mexico. DA N D E L I O N G U I L D 1925 Rosina St unit h, Santa Fe, New Mexico @dandelionguild | dandelionguild.com Dandelion Guild was born of a series of small pop-up events that began in Santa Fe in 2014. Since then we’ve grown. Now we have a real-life storefront, filled with wonderful things! We love vintage clothing and supporting our talented local artists, through collaborative installations focused on accessible, shop-able art to wear and use and integrate into your daily life. Hope to see you soon! M I L L & F I N E RY 6804 4th St NW, Albuquerque, New Mexico @millandfinery | millandfinery.com Mill+Finery provides a curated collection of independent labels and name brand favorites. We strive to offer an elevated shopping experience for the conscious consumer. Our other focus besides providing excellent customer service is community involvement. Mill+Finery participates in local pop-ups, fundraisers, art shows, and more.
S H Y N AT I V E S Oakland, California @shynatives shynatives.com Founded by Northern Cheyenne sisters Madison and Jordan Craig in 2017, Shy Natives aims to empower women with their handmade, customized lingerie. Each piece is designed, patterned and sewn by Madison. Seeing a need for custom-fit, locallymade undergarments, the sister duo founded Shy Natives to provide beautiful, comfortable products to fit women of all sizes. Shy Natives is not a standard indie lingerie brand. It is an ongoing art and social project. Ultimately, Shy Natives aims to redefine and reclaim sensuality of Native peoples, and inspire all women to take power and pride in their bodies. N AT U R A L H I G H V I N TA G E Find Natural High at Paradise Club Vintage 115 7th St NW, Albuquerque, New Mexico @naturalllhigh | @shopparadiseclub Natural High collects and curates vintage gems from throughout the Desert Southwest. We believe in sustainable practices, and we use rare clothing as a way of upcycling.