“It’s the blue house across from Hotel Casa de las Flores, around six,” the text read. I was heading to the home of Jessica Chrastil, an American expat running a small but influential residency for creatives and academics called Pocoapoco in the heart of Oaxaca. She’d invited me to join a few of her friends and collaborators for drinks that evening.
I’d spent the morning with Chrastil, walking along the cobblestoned streets of central Oaxaca and ducking into markets, shops, and restaurants whose ocher, fuchsia, and turquoise exteriors were all the more striking against charcoal skies threatening imminent downpour. Our first stop was Boulenc, a European-style artisanal bakery turned café that reached cult food-world status with its mastery of sourdough fermentation and use of ancient regional grains. With a cast of local artists and expats in flowy skirts and panama hats lingering over rustic courtyard tables and a casual craft-food menu (shakshuka with perfectly poached eggs, and the best riff on avocado toast I’ve ever had), Boulenc epitomizes Oaxaca’s cultural frisson. Equal parts earthy and sophisticated, Oaxaca is like a mashup of present-day Venice Beach and every generation’s fantasy of what downtown New York was like in some previous era.
It’s no wonder that so many Pocoapoco residents—ceramicists, fashion designers, dancers, museum curators, and photographers—plan for a week in Oaxaca and end up staying a month. Time is more fluid here, much like the social interactions. By cocktail hour, I was moving at a local’s pace, as though walking to a good friend’s house in my own neighborhood. After loosely plotting Chrastil’s corner in relation to the 17th-century Baroque Church of Santo Domingo de Guzmán, the town’s geographic and spiritual epicenter, I felt comfortable enough to go mapless to sample a squash-blossom quesadilla I’d heard about that was sold deep in the mazelike Mercado de Abastos, and dip into Colectivo 1050°, a ceramics design collective where I recognized the same simple black bowl I’d eaten from a few hours earlier. Like so many towns in Mexico, the orientation of the streets and gravitational pull of the church just make sense, a logistical ease that gives rise to a personal one.
Through an open window from the street, I had a view of Chrastil’s kitchen and five women standing around sipping glasses of Real Minero Pechuga mezcal while speaking in a mix of English and Spanish. Like most of the city’s brightly painted colonial buildings with fortresslike stucco walls, Chrastil’s opens up onto a whitewashed courtyard; the house serves as both her private home and a handful of apartments and studios for residents. In under two years, Chrastil, whose long, blond surfer-girl hair and all-white linen pant–and–tank top uniform makes her easy to spot around town, has become Oaxaca’s de facto cultural whisperer, connector, and pied piper among a certain international set of artists and designers, academics and social entrepreneurs. These include textile designers Ana Paula Fuentes and Maddalena Forcella of the CADA Foundation; Sara López, Sofía Sampayo García, and Michelle Ruelas of the fashion-and-accessories line Lanii; and industrial designer Salime Harp Cruces of the glass studio Studio Xaquixe—each of whom, in her own way, is linking local artisans to the global economy. Core to their businesses is a near-forensic understanding of very specific, regionally codified textile design, basket weaving, and glass-and pottery-making practices, some of which are hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. In their skinny jeans and breezy tops, the group defies all nonprofit-world stereotypes, sartorial and otherwise, and would look as at home in New York or London as they do here. By all accounts, while most have spent years either studying or working outside of Oaxaca in places like Mexico City, Rome, Barcelona, and New York, the tug of the mecca of handicraft (or “the real Mexico,” as so many Mexicans from other cities call it) is irrefutable.
Not so long ago, craft was something of a dirty word. “It was craft or design, but they never mixed,” Fuentes said. Forcella, who came to Oaxaca most recently from Chiapas, described a global “boom of handicraft” in the region as a blessing and a curse. “We are living in a privileged moment,” added Fuentes, of the growing craft trend you see in the proliferation of embroidery and tassels in every collection from Isabel Marant to J.Crew. “But we have to be conscious of our social, not just aesthetic, responsibility to work with the people who carry these traditions so that they don’t die out when the trend is over.”
The irony isn’t lost on them that while Oaxaca—Land of the Seven Moles, as well as of the ancient city of Monte Albán, a complex of pyramids, markets, and temples built by the highly advanced Zapotecs, who also produced some of the earliest 365-day calendars and forms of writing—is trending among an international gypset, it’s also one of Mexico’s poorest states. And so the group embraces fashion’s ephemeral spotlight with cautious optimism, looking to the success of the Slow Food movement, which has drawn international attention to the nuance of, say, a yellow mole, as well as the deceptive simplicity of a street cart memela spread with asiento (pork fat).
“If you empower the women artisans and create consciousness around it, the whole family and communities benefit and can stay rooted in their towns,” said Harp Cruces, whose mission as founding director of Studio Xaquixe is to marry innovative glass design with sustainable production practices in everything they create, from handblown water carafes to major art and architectural installations. “Eventually, it creates a path toward stopping emigration.”
As I looked around Chrastil’s house, I noticed that the woven baskets strewn around the kitchen had slightly more refined silhouettes than the ones you see stacked in the open markets—as did the sand-colored cups. Some were collaborations between local artisans and designers like Harp Cruces and López, who make tweaks that appeal to a certain global style tribe. We were, in fact, tipping back tiny handblown glasses from Studio Xaquixe, no two of which are exactly the same. For these women, whose life’s work is to empower the artisans while translating the value of these crafts to the international market, the irregularity and singularity of each piece is both a unique selling proposition and an Achilles’ heel. "When you are producing a big line of bags for a client, it’s very hard for people to understand the limitations of materials and natural dyes," said López, who with her two partners created the fashion-forward accessories line Lanii, as well as a business that helps source materials for international fashion designers.
“In India and Guatemala, it’s just a factory mentality,” Forcella chimed in. “In Oaxaca, it’s one woman or man, and it’s a handicraft.” Along with her partners, López will often drive some six hours each way to meet with artisans in remote villages, not just to collaborate on design and keep production on task but to cement relationships and therefore trust. “Occasionally, something will get lost in translation and someone will get offended or say, ‘I don’t have time anymore,’ and we try to convince them to work with us on a certain design again,” said Sampayo García, who oversees Lanii’s payment to artisans. “ Their problems are our problems,” López said. “Michelle goes to a village and eats at every home! Once we get to a good point, they trust us and we trust them.”
Creating a sustainable production model takes patience and a hard-earned mutual trust, but also a radical cultural shift. “Women here aren’t used to valuing their own time and craft, which is just so much a part of them,” Chrastil said. “Asking for money is rarely an option for these women.” Add to that a deeply entrenched sexist culture. “Female artisans here are used to paternalism and being abused,” Fuentes said. This machismo, however, cuts across socioeconomic lines, creating a female solidarity among the artisans and business owners. Harp Cruces recounted a moment earlier in her career when she called in a favor from a family friend who was high up in local government to allow her to showcase regional crafts in the center of town. “He gave us a shitty booth,” she recalled. “I said, ‘You aren’t honoring the craftspeople of Oaxaca if the clients see a shithole.’ ” Needless to say, he never spoke with her again.
Running a business while managing clients’ expectations and fulfilling orders requires a delicate balance between culture and commerce. Fuentes is sensitive to the familiar pitfalls of the traditional top-down philanthropic model. “We come with the idea of being horizontal,” said Fuentes, who understands that it only works if everyone recognizes that they are in a business together built on mutual respect and a shared goal. “We are humans—working with artisans doesn’t mean ‘helping’ them, it doesn’t mean fair trade. It’s about building a solidarity economy.”
On my way back to the hotel, I stopped by Casa Estambul, a café by day and mezcalería by night, for a nightcap. I spotted a mix of French, American, and Mexican twentysomethings, all wearing embroidered tops and dresses, sitting around a couple of tables drinking small-batch mezcal, eating, and swaying to the music. The idea that everything this crowd was wearing, eating from, and sitting on had been made by hand from somewhere nearby inspired one of those body-warming revelations of our human connectedness that seem to strike when one is alone on foreign soil. Then again, maybe it was the mezcal.
OAXACA HOW TO
Where to Eat
The truth is, you could eat just street and market tlayudas (those dinner plate–size tostadas), memelas, and tamales and leave happy, but you’d be missing some of the well-deserved hype at the high end. Consider the following a jumping off point. For breakfast: Itanoní, a plastic-chair, paper-napkin joint known for using rigorously sourced heirloom-corn varieties to make all manner of simple tortilla dishes with endless fillings. Order the orange-pineapple-celery juice or try tascalate (a sweet local drink made from roasted corn and chocolate) and chicharrón-filled tetelas and fried eggs with aromatic hoja santa leaves. Chilhuacle Rojo is a go-to for chilaquiles and one of the best versions of squash-blossom quesadillas; try the heavenly bowl of chilaquiles cremoso and a green juice at Casa Estambul, which skews clean for breakfast and lunch; and stop by Boulenc for either a quick coffee and pastry or a proper sit-down egg breakfast or kefir with fruit and granola. The rooftop restaurant at hotel Casa Oaxaca, overlooking the Baroque Santo Domingo de Guzmán church, is hard to top for a leisurely alfresco lunch or dinner—they do a beautiful table-side salsa, great ceviche, and a perfect heirloom-tomato salad with quesillo (local string cheese) and a veal-tongue green mole. Los Pacos will school you in the different mole flavor profiles with a sampler of each (they do an especially great version of alcaparrado, made with capers). Enrique Olvera’s new Criollo is set in a colonial mansion with Aman-minimal black-and-blond interiors and dramatic organic stone planters and counters, and offers equally elevated riffs on traditional Oaxacan dishes like mole coloradito. Check out Origen for a creative, global-tinged take on Oaxaca’s hyperlocal and seasonal ingredients (homemade noodles with beef barbacoa and a poached egg). Still solid, Los Danzantes, with its dramatic three-story stone-wall space and reflecting pool, was the original upscale new Oaxacan cuisine outpost. A nice option if you don’t want to commit to a long, heavy meal is to sit in the groovy lounge to order the duck tacos and pick from an endless selection of mezcal.
Where to Drink
If you’re new to mezcal, La Mezcaloteca, a speakeasy-style bar that takes the spirit very seriously, will educate you. Small, dark, and hip, In Situ is for the veteran mezcal drinker; trust the bartender and leave with a jar of pickled agave flowers. For inspired cocktails and a young, arty crowd, hit café-by-day, bar-by-night Casa Estambul.
Where to Stay
The OG pick is Quinta Real, a former 16th-century convent turned 91-room hotel with terra-cotta-tile floors and courtyards dripping in bougainvillea. A more modern option is Casa Oaxaca (simple whitewashed rooms with pops of that very specific Oaxacan hot pink, lots of breezy open lounge spaces, and great food). The new kid in town is Los Amantes, a modern new-build that has eschewed the default colonial style for a more Ace Hotel crossed with a Tom Sachs art installation vibe.
Where to Shop
Los Baúles de Juana Cata stocks some of the best-designed (i.e., they translate back at home) and highest-quality textiles in town— skirts, shawls, embroidered shirts, and huipiles, which make great beach cover-ups. Lanii, best known for woven bags with simple bridle-leather handles and embroidered shirts, also carries a nice ceramics edit, as well as other soft goods for the home. Colectivo 1050° champions and offers a well-designed selection of pottery from different villages throughout the region. Tienda Q is like a mini Colette or 10 Corso Como in its art-meets-fashion sensibility, with elevated versions of woven-palm totes and leather sandals. You can find a selection of glassware from Studio Xaquixe, which is located about 15 miles from the city center, at the Christian Thornton Gallery in central Oaxaca.
What to See
In addition to the big, beautiful Museo de las Culturas de Oaxaca, there are a number of small, wonderful museums, like the Instituto de Artes Gráficas de Oaxaca and the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Oaxaca. The city also has a magical ethnobotanic garden designed by local artist Francisco Toledo, where every plant has a story—some of the indigenous species were “rescued” from development projects around the city; others have been used medicinally for centuries.
Day Trips
Apart from the Mitla and Monte Albán ruins, the church at San Jerónimo Tlacochahuaya, about 15 miles outside of town, is a 16th-century hand-painted masterpiece. And located in a stunning 19th-century hacienda, the Centro de Las Artes de San Agustín Etla, a museum and cultural center, exhibits pieces from Toledo’s collection. Teotitlán del Valle, a half-hour away, is always worth a visit for lunch at the Mendoza sisters’ Tlamanalli restaurant and shopping for handwoven rugs.