Liliana Sanguino, Mastering the Craft of Curiosity
For Liliana Sanguino, as Associate Professor and co-director of Parsons’ MFA Fashion Design and Society program, fashion is more than clothing—it is a complex system of ideas that must be learned, practiced, and questioned. With her work, Sanguino guides students to master construction, textiles, and garment archetypes, while exploring the frameworks that shape fashion.
Through projects like Millones de Maneras, a collaboration with Colombian designer Laura Laurens and indigenous communities of trans women artisans in Antioquia, Sanguino’s philosophy comes to life. With projects like this, garments become living archives. Carefully crafted and researched, these pieces represent a depth of technical skill and cultural knowledge.
With her work, she reminds us that fashion is a craft that grows through inquiry. It creates a place where knowledge and practice intersect, and where the act of creation carries with it a responsibility to understand, honor, and expand the field.
She reflects on a life lived across different continents and culture, weaving influences from her past in architecture into her current work. These experiences shape both her teaching and creative vision, as she offers students the chance to understand fashion not just as making, but as thinking, connecting, and imagining possibilities beyond what is handed to them.
As an Associate Professor at Parsons, and co-director of the MFA Fashion Design and Society program, what skills or perspectives do you hope students leave with?
I believe the most important skill a student should graduate with today is independence—the ability to be self-directed and, above all, a great learner. It’s not possible to learn everything at once, but you can learn how to learn. It’s this mindset that will sustain graduates throughout their creative journey and careers. I hope they cultivate curiosity. Many arrive somewhat unaware of the value of their own curiosity. Learning how to nurture, expand, and sustain that curiosity is crucial.
When it comes to fashion specifically, I take a rigorous approach. I want students to truly understand what fashion is, which is something beyond clothing or garments alone. Fashion is a contemporary creative discipline that produces culture. To be at the vanguard, to become visionaries, they must first absorb and master the foundations: construction, textiles, fabrication, research, visual communication, garment archetypes and an awareness of both the fashion system and the wider cultural context and narratives. “Learn the rules to break the rules,” sound advice, passed on to me, which I have come to value over time.I want students to leave with strong technical and research skills alongside the vision and confidence to redefine fashion for the future.
Your PhD research looks at redefining fashion collaboration and curation, focusing on Indigenous and subaltern communities. In what ways do you think fashion can make an impact in these communities?’
I don’t believe fashion makes an impact on these communities.I believe these communities are already part of fashion, in its wider and truer sense. My research aims to redefine fashion itself so that it becomes inclusive of these communities and their practices. When I speak about “redefining,” I mean rethinking how we understand collaboration, authorship, and curation to expand the field beyond its Eurocentric framework.
My PhD centers on Millones de Maneras, a collective project that I co-direct with Colombian designer Laura Laurens and an indigenous community of trans women—Embera artisans from Antioquia, Colombia. Through this work, I’ve realized how much creative and cultural knowledge exists in the Global South that remains excluded from dominant fashion narratives. Fashion, as it is historically defined, has often been limited to what happens in the Global North. My goal is to help shift that—to make fashion’s definition more universal, holistic, and inclusive by recognizing that these communities are not peripheral but central to shaping new aesthetics, methods, and knowledge that have always been there.
Are there any changes you would like to see in the fashion world regarding indigenous style and the dilemma of cultural appropriation?
The first change I’d like to see is in how we talk about cultural appropriation itself. The concept, as it’s often understood, comes largely from the Global North. It’s part of a Eurocentric framework that defines who “owns” culture and who is allowed to use it. Of course, it’s essential to recognize how dominant groups have historically taken from marginalized communities without acknowledgment or understanding, but by reducing deep cultural practices to surface-level aesthetics. But, I believe this is only one part of a much larger conversation.
When we look more closely, even within Indigenous and subaltern communities, we find constant exchange and transformation of knowledge. For instance, bead weaving traditions exist across continents—in the Americas, Asia, and Africa—and it’s hard to pinpoint a single origin. The same can be said of patterns like paisley, which travelled from India to Scotland and evolved in both contexts, or African wax prints, which originated in Indonesia and via the Dutch found new meaning and identity in Africa. These are examples not only of exchange but of adaptationof how knowledge moves, transforms, and survives.
Rather than focusing solely on cultural appropriation, I’m more interested in the dynamics of knowledge exchange. In my collaborative research with the Embera trans women artisans in Colombia, for example, we continuously share and learn from one another. These encounters are reciprocal—spaces where I learn as much, if not more, than I contribute. I’d like to see fashion move toward that kind of model: one based on exchange, mutual respect, and the acknowledgment that culture is not static or owned, but living, evolving, and shared.
How has your experience with different cultures given you a unique perspective on fashion?
I studied architecture at Universidad de los Andes in Colombia, where we were always looking toward Europe. By the time I graduated, I was a minimalist and a modernist, deeply influenced by 1990s Barcelona and LeCobusier. Moving to London was a turning point.I didn’t plan to go into fashion, but it became clear that it was exactly where I belonged. At that time, it felt necessary to be in London, Paris, or New York to build a career in fashion.
Twenty years later, reconnecting with Colombia has completely reshaped that view. Millones de Maneras began as a small project and evolved into a much larger research journey, showing me how interconnected these worlds are. Working as an educator and researcher in the Global North while collaborating with communities in Colombia has allowed me to see fashion from multiple places,both as a creative cultural system and as lived experience.
Being Colombian and British, and now based in New York, I’m constantly aware of how different places shape perspective. It has made me realize how essential curiosity is—the same quality I hope to instill in my students. Experiencing different places expands your understanding, deepens your knowledge, and gives you a more original voice. It’s not only about difference, but it’s about seeing the bigger picture.
Why do you think cultural experiences and exchanges are so important for those in the fashion industry? In what specific ways do you think this allows young professionals to grow?
Cultural experiences and exchanges are essential because that’s what fashion is. A creative discipline both reflecting and producing culture, so understanding cultures such as their values, aesthetics, and ways of being,is fundamental.
Exchanges, in this sense, are not only geographical. They happen across identities, races, gender, faith, abilities, generations, and socioeconomic contexts. Every time we meet someone new, we enter a space of learning.
For me, exchanges are also about knowledge—the sharing of ways of making, thinking, and living. I have a strong belief in communities of practice. These encounters expand our understanding of the world and, in turn, our creative perspective and I don’t believe this process belongs exclusively to young professionals. It’s a lifelong practice.
A personal example, for me, was meeting the community of Indigenous trans women from the Embera in Colombia. That experience, which began just six years ago, completely shifted my perspective. Despite being Colombian, I had never truly met or worked closely with Indigenous people before. What began as an encounter became a genuine exchange—one of learning, respect, and collaboration. It reminded me how much we still have to learn, no matter our age or experience.
Cultural experiences are about crossing the invisible boundaries within our own societies between communities, identities, and perspectives. These are the exchanges that enrich us, that make fashion more human, more inclusive and diverse, and more aware of the world it represents.
Do you ever use skills you learned from your Architecture degree in the work you do now?
Architecture was the foundation of everything for me. It shaped not only my creative process but also how I think and learn. Many of the skills I use today in fashion come directly from those early years. I learned to draw by hand, endlessly, and that discipline became part of who I am. The idea of scale,constantly zooming in and out, from the detail to the whole is something I’ve carried directly into fashion. In architecture you rarely see the final result until it’s built, so you work through maquettes and visualisation. In fashion, I see the same logic, just closer to the body and it is possible to have a 1:1 scale at all times, and instead of maquettes we do toiles Translating 2D into 3D, understanding proportion and construction. Those are architectural sensibilities that continue to guide my design thinking.
But there were also deeper lessons. Architecture taught me how to learn. I wasn’t a naturally gifted student at first—in fact, I failed early on because I didn’t yet understand how to think conceptually. I couldn’t imagine how a cube or a cylinder could become a building. Over time, I realized that creativity depends on knowledge and knowledge depends on research. The more you know, the more you can do. That discovery changed everything. Later, I failed again and this time I learned the value of time management, process, and professionalism which are lessons that are still central to how I teach.
Those experiences taught me empathy for students. I understand the struggle of learning because I’ve lived it. Architecture trained me not just in design, but in discipline, perseverance, and reflection. All qualities that continue to shape my practice and my teaching today.
Millones de Maneras was recently recognized by the United Nations; an incredible milestone. What impact does the visibility that comes with that sort of recognition have on the communities you work with?
The recognition from the United Nations was an incredible milestone. One that has meant a great deal to Laura, myself, though perhaps in a different way than for the community itself. The UN listing hasn’t brought a direct material change to the Embera women, but the visibility it generated has been powerful. Over the past few years, Millones de Maneras has received attention through exhibitions, television features, and press coverage, including Claudia Fischer’s, Werapara: Chicas Trans documentary, which beautifully captured the project. That film has been shown in national theaters in Colombia and at international festivals.
Winning several awards has amplified recognition for the women and for their reserve, Karmata Rúa.Their reserve, in the Antioquia region, has literally been put on the map. The women have gained pride and acknowledgement within their own community, not only as artisans but as fashion practitioners in their own right. One of my favorite moments of recognition came in 2023, when Karmata Rúa celebrated its 200th anniversary. The Embera trans women—Roxana, Yina, Marcela, Jaima and Alexa—were invited to organize a fashion show for the celebration. They led the entire process,from casting to choreography and garment creation,and presented their work to the community. It was such a powerful moment being recognized not as “participants,” but as women and creative leaders.
For me, that’s the real impact of visibility. Not just global acknowledgment, but local empowerment. The recognition operates at multiple levels: for the women as a collective, for their reserve, for the Embera community, and for Millones de Maneras as a collaborative project. It’s about being seen, being proud, and being able to give something meaningful back to their own people.
It can sometimes feel overwhelming to be a part of so many things. How do you unwind after long days of teaching, learning, and creating?
Yes, it definitely feels overwhelming at times. There are so many things happening at once, from different directions. But more than overwhelming, I often wish there were more hours in the day. The truth is, I’m happiest when I’m teaching or immersed in a project. When I’m in those moments such as in class, at an event, or working with others—I don’t feel tired at all. The part that can feel overwhelming is usually the organizing,logistics, planning, and making sure everything aligns. Once things are in motion, it all feels worth it.
My way to unwind is simple:I sleep. I can’t function without proper rest. Beyond that, I try to balance the intensity of my work with excitement for what’s next. Right now, I’m particularly energized about working with new research assistants. It’s the first time I will be working with a team of assistants, rather than an individual and this definitely feels like a step forward. Collaborating and learning from them helps distribute the workload and keeps the fun part of the work alive.
You co-own The Queen Adelaide, a vital queer cultural spot in London. What does it mean to you personally to be part of creating a business that people view as a safe space and community hub?
The Queen Adelaide is ten years old this December, it’s the continuation of our previous venue The George & Dragon which opened in 2002,that’s 23 years in East London and many changes have been witnessed across both venues as London and the world has changed at a pace. At the heart has always been the desire to provide a different kind of space for like minded people to meet, cut loose, and reflect. It’s a source of immense pride that East London has continued to make use of The Queen Adelaide and support independent venues which are fast becoming an endangered species.
Can you walk me through your decision in becoming an educator? How has this changed your perspective on both professional industries, and young students gearing up to enter the work force?
I’ve always wanted to be an educator. It’s one of the few things I was certain about from early on. But I didn’t realize how serious I was until a friend who worked at a university encouraged me to apply. I sent my CV, got my first teaching opportunity ust a few hours a week, and from there it all unfolded quite naturally. I took on more classes, then a full-time position, and eventually became Program Director of the BA Fashion Design at London College of Fashion. During that time, I also completed a postgraduate qualification in Learning and Teaching in Art and Design, which I later expanded into a master’s degree. Looking back, it feels like an extremely organic journe —a path that aligned with both my interests and the opportunities that came my way.
Becoming an educator hasn’t so much changed my perspective as it has deepened it. Through teaching, I’ve come to understand the nuances of the fashion industry and of young designers preparing to enter it. My approach is always grounded in the connection between education and professional practice. I see teaching fashion as a collaborative effort,not only between students and educators, but also with the industry itself. Bringing professionals into the classroom, creating real-world experiences, and encouraging students to develop both creatively and professionally are all essential.
Ultimately, I don’t teach just for the sake of education.I teach to prepare students to be confident, critical, and engaged participants in the field. It’s about helping them develop the tools, awareness, and resilience they’ll need to navigate an industry that’s constantly evolving.
In any aspect of your life, what is something you hope to accomplish in the next 10 years?
I don’t tend to plan too far ahead. Most of what has happened, has done so organically through opportunities that appeared and felt right at the time. Looking ahead ten years, I hope I’m still here,still teaching, still learning, still working within fashion education. I’d love for Millones de Maneras to continue growing, ideally as an autonomous organism—something that can exist and evolve beyond me or Laura, sustained by the communities and collaborations that shaped it. That kind of independence would feel like a true accomplishment.
Beyond that, I hope to keep seeing things I’ve never seen before. New aesthetics, new ways of thinking, new generations shaping fashion into something entirely different. That curiosity keeps me going. And on a lighter note, in the immediate future, I’d really like to get my third driver’s license. I have one from Colombia, one from the UK, and now I’m working on the New York edition, which still makes me nervous! Mostly, though, I just hope to be around, doing what I love—continuing to grow alongside the field and the people who inspire it.
Do you have any advice for those entering the fashion industry?
My main advice for anyone entering the fashion industry is to understand that fashion is a profession. Because we all wear clothes and express ourselves through them, it’s easy to assume we already “know” fashion. But the truth is, fashion is a complex, highly skilled discipline.t demands study, curiosity, and respect. It’s not just about shopping or style. It’s about learning the history, the context, the techniques, and the systems that shape it.
So my first advice is: treat it seriously. Learn it as you would any other profession. Be curious, ask questions, research, and observe. I didn’t study fashion initially,I came from a different undergraduate program. But, I learned by looking, reading, analyzing, and paying attention to what surrounded me. You have to train your eye, and that means looking constantly through books, magazines, exhibitions, films, tv, and even the street.
I also think it’s important to get hands-on experience, whether through internships or retail work. Working directly with garments, people, and spaces gives you a real understanding of how fashion functions. Ultimately, the best people in this field are those who are passionate, disciplined, and very obsessed—people who never stop learning, looking, and evolving.
Interview by Sabine Obermoller, Contributor, PhotoBook Magazine
Tearsheets by Daniel López, Art Director, PhotoBook Magazine
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