How Venezuela is building a local space for fashion designers and creatives
All about LOCALNESS.
There are only three ladies from whom I normally obtain my information about fashion brands in Venezuela; one is a stylist who lives and works in Caracas, and the others are a Venezuelan fashion journalist and a fashion marketeer, both of whom live in Mexico City.
However, the lack of fashion media in Latin America makes it very difficult to connect with true fashion locals and understand who the key and new players are to keep an eye on.
Through one of these contacts a few months ago, I stumbled upon LOCALNESS, a fashion platform based in Caracas that began with a podcast, followed by events, and has been consolidating itself as the first place of its kind for designers and creatives to network, share, and learn about their local industry, combining both the creative and supply side of textiles in the country, along with their most important upcoming launch: a directory of suppliers and local brands.
In order to understand more about the landscape in Venezuela and how LOCALNESS came about, I reached out to Isabel Martínez, the leader behind this platform, who shared her story with me.
(Audio of the interview available in Spanish at the end for paid subscribers.)
You began with the platform in 2023, so I want to know what was going on in Venezuela at that time to encourage you to open Localness?
Well, I think the biggest impulse, what really made me say, "Look, you have to open Localness," was that I had a fashion brand, here made in Venezuela. I bought the fabrics here, I sewed here, I looked for the suppliers. I mean, I tried searching around a lot, but I did notice the difficulty of getting the information.
Here, there is no platform, at least around the topic of textiles. There is only one large textile factory that everyone knows, which is very well known here in Venezuela, but in reality, the quality is very bad. So, to get those good textiles, you have to—here in Venezuela we call it "kicking the street."
You know, like, "I'm going to this corner, I move here, I walk, I call the other person”, move a lot, because there are factories and workshops. But many of these factories, don't have Instagram, they don't have much less a website. They don't have communication, so they are not within everyone's reach.
So while I had my brand, people often asked it, "Isa, where do you sew? Who prints for you? Where do you buy the fabric? Is it possible to do it here? Do you bring the fabric from Colombia?" Because here the typical thing that is heard is, "Do you bring the fabric from Colombia?" Many bring it from outside, but there are suppliers through which they bring it from outside.
And, of course, also the fact that what was done locally here was not valued. There are impressive brands, but the Venezuelan still has that habit of thinking that what comes from outside is better, that what is imported has much better quality, and we are going to support everything from the outside more than what is ours.
We had a fairly strong crisis period, and we still have it, clearly. Economically, there was a period where there was nothing at all, and there the quality went downhill. So, of course, that quality that went downhill from 2010 to 2018, or 2020 before the pandemic.
Yesterday, Roberto Rimeris, the president of the Chamber of Clothing, gave us the data yesterday that they use to have 400 textile companies registered, and now they only have 25.
From what year to what year did this happen?
I know the 400 was in 1981. So, of course, there was no communication about what was being done here and how to do it here. Then the idea of Localness first comes from lockdowns as a pop-up. It was more like, "Let’s do it and let’s expose the very good brands that are in Venezuela, and let everyone buy locally and support Venezuelan fashion." When I got a little more into it, building the project, "Pateando calle," as I say, and knocking on all these doors of suppliers, I thought, "Okay, but a little bit has to grow beyond these brands that are already developed." Instead, how do we help these brands?
There are a lot of startups that don’t know where to start because there is no information center. No one tells them how or where. So, we have to cover it a little more and also name the suppliers and how they can start. I saw that the need and the work that could be done were much bigger than just communicating the good brands that are made here.
I really believe that if we want to call this an industry at some point—and my slogan is that there is an industry here and we support the Venezuelan fashion industry—it’s true that, by chance, the industry is too beaten down. Maybe the industry has five legs, but here there are no legs, but at least there’s a table, so there’s still an industry.
But to put those legs back on the table, we need to build and put it back on the map. We must not only be recognized by 5, 10, or 20 brands that do great things, but by many more brands. And that’s from the smallest—from the fabric, to how your pattern-making is done, how your design and collection development is done, all the way to the communication, marketing, and distribution aspects.
In June 2023, we launched our first post on Instagram, after having traveled half of Caracas, visiting suppliers. In October we launched our first podcast. But well, we started communicating about what is done here, how it is done, what the brands are, who the suppliers are, what the advantages are, and a bit of rescuing that identity and culture and love for what is ours.
Then, we can say, "Okay, you already love what is ours, and you know that what is done here is good, now build it."
What’s interesting about suppliers is that most designers are very secretive, right? Like, "I have this supplier, and I don’t share it with anyone."
Something I’ve seen in the last few years in the Mexican industry is how many brands, even small ones, are making alliances and collaborating to grow. So I find it interesting that you bring that to the table. Do you think that the designers you’ve spoken with feel open and willing to share these kinds of secrets?
I could say it’s 50-50. I mean, there are still designers who say, "No, look, why would I share with you who makes the fabric or who manufactures it?" But there are also designers who say, "Look, I don’t mind sharing." Yesterday, we participated in a roundtable hosted by Localness with Vanessa Farina, an incredible designer. She said that, in her case, she no longer cares about sharing her suppliers because, of course, you can have the same fabric or the same workshop, but what makes it yours is your design, your process, your story, your creativity.
So, I think we are overcoming those barriers more and more. There are still many designers and brands who say, "No, I won’t share," but others are starting to join. And I think that once more people see how collaboration and community-building work, they will also join. Of course, because it’s what you mentioned, that people are very scattered and don’t have a space to feel connected.
How have you seen the reaction of people in the Venezuelan industry now that you’ve been working on this with Localness, trying to bring all these parts together?
It’s been very positive. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the receptiveness. Everyone is fascinated because, maybe from their little corners, there were many who wanted to join and do something, but there was never someone who said, "Yes, let’s go for it." It has a lot of people excited and willing.
Especially in the last week, after meeting with many textile workers, brands, and designers, I’ve seen that everyone is willing to work. We are all willing to join forces and collaborate—what do you have that I don’t? What do I have that you don’t? How can I help you, and how can we collaborate? I feel like everyone is ready for this. They are understanding that Localness is a place of connection, and they are happy that it’s who brings everyone together, rather than separate groups.
Because, like in every industry, there are always separate groups. But having an epicenter generating trust is key because, in the end, it’s about building trust with brands, suppliers, clients, and everyone who reads and listens to us. So that this epicenter is created, and people can turn to Localness when they need and what they need.
Oh, how exciting! I'd also love to know why you started the podcast. I mean, it’s such a comprehensive platform.
It all started with media in general because I felt there was a gap in communication. It’s one thing to say we promote or offer a directory of suppliers or provide brand development services, but it’s another to actually communicate the beauty of what’s being created here. That pride of being Venezuelan, of making things here—that is only achieved through communication, no doubt about it.
The podcast itself actually started before Localness. It was a personal project, just mine, and lasted five or six episodes. It was more of the same, where I shared my life as a fashion entrepreneur in Venezuela, invited a few creatives and designers, and got to know them a bit more. That project went on pause in late 2022, due to some personal reasons. When I started Localness, I thought, "Well, it’s time to pick up the podcast again."
And I wondered, should I continue as Isabel Martínez or as Localness? In the end, they were so connected. The podcast became a tool for building community, talking about fashion, and discussing what’s happening here, from the business side of fashion in Venezuela to the challenges we all face—because not everything is a bed of roses. It became clear: the podcast wasn’t about Isabel Martínez anymore; it was about Localness, and everyone could have a voice in it.
From there, we expanded bit by bit. When we launched Instagram, we began posting news about what was happening locally. We shared what these designers were doing, and I realized, “Wow, this is such an interesting way to amplify these stories.” If designers don’t shout it loud on their own platforms, no one finds out about it. And there are so many amazing things happening.
Each brand is doing incredible work in their own way, but if they don’t communicate it, no one knows. Many brands can’t afford PR or don’t have the reach to tell their story. Like Yenny Bastida—she does remarkable social responsibility work, and while international platforms are starting to notice, it’s still largely under the radar. When the Latin American Fashion Summit came and did a tour of Raíces, it made an impact. But often, no one knows these stories. They don’t need a PR team, but they do need communication.
So, that’s where the media aspect comes from. Sure, we don’t earn money from the news section on our website, but I think it’s beautiful to showcase the amazing things happening here. It’s rewarding to highlight that.
You started by communicating what’s being done in Venezuela, especially things that might not be getting enough attention. Are there no local fashion communicators? No local media outlets?
Unfortunately, no. There are independent individuals, colleagues who are amazing fashion communicators, but each one talks a bit here and there. If something happens, they mention it, or if they’re invited to an event, they’ll post about it, but it’s not like they’re actively scouting for information to see what’s going on.
Some fashion communicators are more active in doing research, but they’re usually talking about what’s happening abroad—what Dolce & Gabbana is doing or what’s happening at Miami Fashion Week. But they don’t focus on what’s happening locally, which I think is a mistake. If you work in Venezuelan media, it’s your responsibility to communicate what’s happening in Venezuela.
Absolutely. So, what’s been the biggest challenge you’ve faced in building Localness so far?
Wow, the biggest one... I recently posted about three of the biggest challenges we’ve faced. One of them has been gathering people—bringing everyone together has been difficult. But maybe not the hardest because I’m pretty determined. Here, we say I’m “salida” (bold), meaning I’ll go anywhere to get things done. If there’s an event and I’m not invited, I’ll still show up. I do it because I believe in this project, and my determination has helped people take notice. They’re like, “Wow, the girl from Localness is doing great things; let’s invite her, let’s trust her.”
Still, it’s tough. I’m only 24, and people often think I’m 28 or 30. When they find out my age, it can be harder to be taken seriously. In fashion, there’s a lot of ego. People say, “I’ve been working in this industry for 50 years, and you, with just three years of experience, think you can make it?” It’s something you have to fight for and prove that you belong.
What amazes me is your conviction. Do you feel like that strong motivation has always been a part of you? Where does it come from—personal experience or something else?
I’ve always been very determined. I graduated from high school at 16 and moved to another city all on my own. I finished university and then moved to Caracas by myself. So, I’ve always been clear about what I want, and I go for it, no hesitation. With Localness, it’s also about my love for Venezuela. There’s so much talent here, so many people eager to work hard and succeed, but they’ve faced roadblocks due to circumstances beyond their control. I believe there’s a lot of work that needs to be done, and we can make a difference.
I know we’re doing something meaningful, something with values. That’s what makes Localness so important to me—it’s grounded in values.
Looking ahead, what’s your vision for Localness? Where do you see it growing?
The goal is for brands and freelancers to see Localness as a go-to reference. If you need to know what’s happening in Venezuelan fashion or where to find something specific, you’ll think, "I’ll check Localness." We want to provide a platform where people can easily find suppliers, workshops, and courses. We’re collaborating with institutions so we can offer all that information in one place. The dream is for anything related to Venezuelan fashion to be connected to Localness.
We’re also launching our service platform soon, where we’ll showcase audiovisual productions and continue expanding. For example, we recently contributed to Revista Estampas, a well-known print magazine in Venezuela. I worked as the creative director, handling production and styling. The idea is to keep growing the industry, to bring back print fashion, and help Venezuelan brands go international because the quality is there.
Could you recommend some emerging Venezuelan brands we should be keeping an eye on?
Absolutely! In shoes, I’d mention Woara, they’re doing something really cool with sports footwear. Also, Nico Moretti for more avant-garde designs. In clothing, one of the best emerging brands is Milagro Contreras. Another favorite of mine is Doré—I was actually wearing one of their shirts yesterday.
Thank you for reading!