My full Experience with PFW 2025

At the beginning of 2025, I thought it would be funny to apply for Paris Fashion Week — just for sharts and gargles. I’d seen a few of my colleagues do this particular show and thought, why not MadVan? So I applied, and to my surprise, a few weeks later I received an email saying I’d been accepted. Of course, that acceptance came with a hefty fee, as most major fashion shows do.

Still, I felt it was time in my journey to set the goal and make it happen. Honestly, I was tired of people asking, “Why don’t you do NYFW or PFW?” and always having to reply, “I’m a broke hoe — in this fashion world, you gotta pay to play.” Sure, that money could’ve gone toward paying off student loans, my credit card, or even getting a new car… but nah, those things can wait. My dreams, however, cannot.

Right after I got accepted, I launched a GoFundMe and shared it with my community to see what they thought. Once again, to my surprise, I raised the amount for my deposit in just a couple of days. The support was overwhelming — I truly felt the love from my fashion friends in New Mexico and Denver.

Around that same time, I won a Creative Bravos Award from the City and had the honor of attending the ceremony. My friends and I showed up stacked with business cards promoting the fundraiser and dressed in the funniest MadVan outfits to an event that was supposed to be business casual. We even gave a card to the mayor’s wife — who later donated to the GoFundMe!

At that point, it became increasingly clear that I was actually going to show a collection at Paris Fashion Week. It’s no longer a joke.

April June, Tracy Franke, and Lluvia Martinez dressed in MadVan at the Creative Bravos Awards

I honestly didn’t believe it at first — things like this usually fizzle out, and I tried not to get too excited to avoid disappointment. Still, I got to work. I poured myself into creating a collection that represented my brand’s aesthetic, celebrated New Mexico culture, and showcased the construction of each garment. More than anything, I wanted to prove to myself that I belonged in such a high-profile space.

One of my best friends and fellow designer, Kathleen Chavez of I Heart Couture, was right there with me. We spent countless late nights together — her hyping me up, insisting this collection was going to slay — even while I was internally screaming.

In just about a month, Kathleen and I sewed, patterned, and conceptualized the entire collection. I packed it all into one suitcase (vacuum-sealed, of course), popped an AirTag in that fucker, and I was off.

Kimberli, Juliana and I at the Flying Solo designer meeting.

Arriving in Paris during Fashion Week is an experience in itself. My cousin Juliana — my trusty assistant for the week — and I got around mostly by metro. It was my first time back on the Paris Metro since I’d been lost there as a child… for an entire night. It almost felt poetic that, to accomplish one of my biggest dreams, I’d have to relive a bit of childhood trauma.

Our first stop for Paris Fashion Week was the Flying Solo meeting and opening party. There was a red carpet, drinks, and… some concerning news. The next day would be fittings, where I’d have just 15 minutes to complete eight model fittings. Afterward, I’d have to leave the garments behind for the assistants to steam and dress the models. I also needed to have all eight pairs of shoes ready to go.

And that’s where things went to hell.

The shoe situation was a nightmare. I didn’t want to travel with all those shoes — they would’ve made my luggage weigh a ton — so I thought it’d be smart to collaborate with a local maximalist influencer in Paris I’d worked with before. We’d been talking for months; I’d sent her photos of every outfit, and she agreed to style the looks and provide the shoes.

This is the last time I put blind trust in influencers.

When I arrived, she had nothing prepped and casually mentioned she’d be working that day, so she couldn’t help. Then, at 9 p.m. the night before fittings, I found out that all the shoes had to be there by 10 a.m. the next morning. Total panic.

We bolted out of the meeting and ran to the nearest mall. Other designers suggested H&M — but that didn’t sit right with me, since my brand stands on sustainability. We couldn’t find anything, and the stores were closing fast. The plan was to divide and conquer the next morning, but every thrift store opened at noon... except one.

Miraculously, there was a charity shop just minutes from our Airbnb called Fling Ding. It was our only hope — and it opened at 9. I sprinted to the shoe section, and there it was: a rack full of trendy, size 9–10 shoes, all in the exact color palette I needed. The Universe (and Fling Ding) had my back that morning.

We grabbed the shoes, packed them in a suitcase, and Ubered straight to fittings.

The rack prepped for fittings.

In reality, we ended up having more than 15 minutes with the models — everything was running behind schedule. These models had to attend 16+ fittings in a single day and were running around half-naked and anxious. For this show, the models are assigned to each designer: all of them 5’10” or taller and sizes 0–2.

I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized some of these top models — the kind who’ve been on the cover of Vogue Brazil— were going to be wearing a lamb balaclava and a boob scarf. That’s exactly what I love doing in fashion: playfully poking at the industry, making people loosen up and find a bit more humor in life and art.

During the fitting, we also collaborated with a stylist who paired each brand with an accessory designer. I chose to work with UHI, an Armenian fine jewelry label that creates stunning glasses and face accessories. Their work complemented my collection perfectly.

Uhi Accessories on Model MAO KANEKO paired with MadVan Rabbit fur collar.

The next day was show day. Designer call time was thirty minutes before the show began — which meant we had roughly half an hour to quick-change eight models. Luckily, there were backstage assistants to help, but amid the chaos a few earrings got mixed up and ended up on the wrong models.

This show is curated primarily for press coverage rather than audience entertainment. The venue was beautiful, but the shows themselves were quick and minimal. The production team chose the music, hair, and makeup for efficiency, streamlining the process for all the brands involved.

This high-intensity environment felt very different from the many other shows I’ve done. Its focus was entirely on the garments, the accessories, and that final photo at the end of the runway. In the past, I’ve relied on music, hair, and makeup to build my world — but having those elements out of my control made me realize that MadVan can exist and thrive even when stripped down to the essentials.

The production agency was easy to work with, friendly, and professional. I loved collaborating with people from all over the world — where the common language was fashion.

When it was all said and done, I felt genuinely proud of myself and my brand. The finale coat even sold right off the runway to an iconic woman (she paid to play). Thank God — because at that point in my trip, I had completely run out of money and my credit card didn’t work in Europe, lol.

I hugged the woman, then went off to the Catacombs. Thanks to that gorgeous coat, I made it back home to Albuquerque — where I’ll keep creating weird, wonderful clothing for maximalists who refuse to wear boring clothes ever again.

Also Featured in Elle Magazine, that’s pretty neat.