Indigenous Cholas from Bolivia’s Rugged Highlands Command the Runway with Confidence

Tina

VIACHA, Bolivia (AP) — In the vibrant markets, expansive farmlands, and lively celebrations of Viacha, a town southeast of Bolivia’s capital, women are often seen wearing traditional outfits: bowler hats, tiered skirts, and fringed shawls.

What’s less common, however, is the spotlight on these outfits, typically worn by “Cholas,” Indigenous women from Bolivia’s highland Altiplano.

On Friday night, Viacha, located about 22 kilometers (13 miles) from La Paz at over 12,000 feet (3,650 meters) above sea level, became the center of attention as more than 12,000 spectators filled the town’s main square for a local fashion show. The dirt road was transformed into a runway where teenagers and their proud mothers gathered to watch a unique display of Andean fashion.

The show featured local girls, mostly students aged 15 to 25, as amateur models. They strutted down the runway to a surprising soundtrack of early 2000s American pop hits, while street vendors sold hot dogs and empanadas. The crowd cheered in both Spanish and the Aymara language, the language of the Indigenous community.

Dressed in glittering shoes and brightly colored “polleras” (bunched-out skirts), the models—of all sizes and heights—twirled, tipped their hats, and smiled at the audience. Some threw sultry glances, embracing the moment.

Rogelia Canaviri, 42, who watched her daughter Carolina walk the runway, reflected on how perceptions of these garments have changed. “Years ago, people would associate these skirts with the fields, looking down on us as rural peasants,” she said. “Now, it’s something I’m proud of. I see my daughter wearing what I’ve worn all my life.”

Canaviri, a dairy farmer who still wears these traditional garments for work, wore a more modest beige pollera, wool shawl, and velvet hat as she watched her daughter, who wore a dazzling red skirt adorned with sequins. “I hope she keeps wearing these clothes. This is our culture, and it’s something to celebrate.”

The Aymara people, who have long endured conquest and dispossession—first by the Inca, then by the Spanish—were once forced to abandon their traditional attire. In the 1920s, British railway workers introduced the iconic felt bowler hat, now a key part of the Chola look.

Historically, the term “Chola” (and its diminutive “Cholita”) has been used as a racial slur by Bolivia’s wealthier, whiter population. But in recent decades, Indigenous Aymara women have reclaimed the term, embracing their heritage and the colorful garments that define it.

“I think the ‘Cholita’ is now something exciting in our culture,” said Brittany Cantuta Valeria, a 21-year-old first-time model. “We wear these clothes to have fun, to celebrate who we are. This is no longer about working the fields.”

The fashion show was organized by the municipality of Viacha, a town that grew up under the presidency of Evo Morales, Bolivia’s first Indigenous president (2006-2019). Morales championed Indigenous rights, creating a constitution that recognized Bolivia’s 36 ethnic groups and supported the preservation of their cultures. Since his tenure, Chola fashion has gained more recognition, and runway shows have become more common.

Yet this show in Viacha was a first for the town. Before Friday, the community had never hosted such an event. “I was really nervous but also proud. This is a big moment for all of us,” said 15-year-old model Tomasa Ramirez. “I feel so beautiful. Now I know I want to be a Cholita model.”

Despite Bolivia’s ongoing economic crisis, which has made life increasingly difficult for many families, the show was a testament to the resilience and pride of the Aymara people. The clothing worn by the models—velvet hats, vicuña wool shawls, and intricately beaded polleras—can be expensive. Some garments cost several hundred dollars, while the finest jewelry can run into the thousands.

For many, this year’s outfits were a more affordable version of the traditional dress. “I couldn’t afford real gold earrings this year,” said 16-year-old Julieta Mamani, pointing to her gold-colored accessories. “I hope next year will be different.”

As the night unfolded, Rogelia Canaviri watched her daughter proudly pose for selfies in her beautiful skirt. Her hope for the future is clear: “I hope she doesn’t like wearing pants,” she said with a smile. “I tried them once, and I felt naked. Never again.”

This moment in Viacha was more than a fashion show. It was a celebration of Indigenous culture, a reclaiming of identity, and a reminder of the enduring beauty of Aymara tradition.

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