Reflecting on Selena Quintanilla Pérez’s Fashion Legacy
It’s a ferociously windy afternoon in late March. I’m navigating the National Mall in Washington, D.C., unsuccessfully battling the breeze for control of my wool scarf. I veer right, toward the Smithsonian National Museum of American History.
There, nestled on the third floor, I walk into an exhibition titled “Entertainment Nation,” which opened to the public in December 2022. It’s on display indefinitely and features an estimated 200 objects from key figures and moments in pop culture. Dorothy’s iconic ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz greet me near the entrance. Up ahead, to the left, I notice the tennis dress Billie Jean King wore when she defeated Bobby Riggs in the famous “Battle of the Sexes.” But what I’m really here for is slightly further into the exhibit. After a few steps, I spot it, encased in a glass display box: an all-black, monochromatic look anchored by a cropped leather jacket and a satin bra.
The late Selena Quintanilla Pérez once owned this outfit.
A Selena stage ensemble housed at the Smithsonian.
When the adored “Queen of Tejano Music” was murdered at a Days Inn motel in Corpus Christi, Texas on March 31, 1995, the loss sent shockwaves through the Mexican American community. At age 23, many believed she was on the cusp of something big: breaking into the American market with her highly anticipated English-language “crossover” album.
Her death brought an abrupt, painful end to her would-be meteoric rise. In the three decades since, generations of fans have struggled to accept a world without her in it. Her absence remains too painful to fully process, so we cling to her memory however we can.
From the beloved 1997 biopic released just two years after her death, to a makeup collaboration with MAC, to a short-lived Netflix series, to an outfit housed in a museum, for fans both old and new—there’s a real longing for any kind of connection to Selena. Many of those links come to life through the lens of fashion. Two of my all-time favorite thrifted items are homages to Selena: a denim jacket with an image of her stitched on the back and a T-shirt emblazoned with her likeness across the front and red roses along the sleeves.
Selena Quintanilla Pérez poses with Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran in 1994.
Performing in concert.
When I went to to see her stage outfit IRL (calling D.C. home has its perks, proximity to museums being one of them), I learned that she wore the blingy, Rebel Without a Cause-meets-Burlesque ensemble to the 1994 Tejano Music Awards in San Antonio, Texas, where she performed her hit song “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom” and “Donde Quiera Que Estés” with the Barrio Boyzz.
That year, she also took home several awards including female artist of the year, female entertainer of the year, and album of the year for Selena Live! As her career climbed, so did her public profile. That meant more eyes would be on her every move and her every outfit. She was, naturally, aware of this fact—perhaps more keenly so than her overbearing father.
Of the several boldly defiant moments in the movie Selena, one encounter between daughter and father forever sticks out in my memory. Selena (Jennifer Lopez) is establishing herself as a formidable presence in the male-dominated world of Tejano music. Even so, she’s expected to justify her onstage wardrobe choices to Abraham (Edward James Olmos), her uptight, traditional, Mexican American father.
“Are you talking about my bustier?” Selena asks him. “Dad, listen, it’s the cool thing.” She cites Madonna, Janet Jackson, and Paula Abdul as examples of contemporary artists who perform in embellished bra tops.
Jennifer Lopez in Selena.
He’s far from convinced. He’s even more aghast to learn that Selena’s mother, Marcella (Constance Marie), has played a literal hand in this sartorial scheme—she and her daughter sewed the jewels on together, after all. Selena and Abraham ultimately land on a compromise: She could wear her beloved bustiers, but only with the matching, blinged-out jackets layered over them. It wasn’t a total win. It was, however, a critical step in her ongoing self-discovery through fashion.
Whether she was bedazzling bras, DIYing head-to-toe performance looks, or opening a fashion boutique and beauty salon in her hometown of Corpus Christi, Selena was profoundly immersed in the process of crafting her personal style, both onstage and off. She possessed a clear vision of her self-image—so clear, in fact, it ended up enshrined at the Smithsonian.
That trajectory is incredibly inspiring to fans, especially Mexican American fans like myself who, culturally and geopolitically, must tow the line between assimilation (blending in) and aspiration (standing out). We understand that more often than not, cultivating any kind of creativity can only happen under certain circumstances, within particular parameters.
Selena’s ability and willingness to take fashion matters into her own hands demonstrates the reverberating power of her unapologetic self-expression. It turned her into the quintessential influencer for our community—long before the term itself would ever be coined, and for long after her tragic death.
The writer in two of her Selena-inspired finds.
I can’t recall when, exactly, I bought my first “leather” jacket (I use quotation marks because I’m 95 percent sure it was actually pleather, or what’s since been rebranded as “vegan” leather). I purchased it from a popular mall brand sometime in the late 2000s. It cost me half of the paltry paycheck I earned as a part-time barista, but that was inconsequential as far as I was concerned.
I had waited for that day ever since I was 5 years old, when I saw the cover of Selena’s Amor Prohibido album for the first time. She wore a white ruffled lace top layered beneath a black leather jacket. Her signature gold hoop earrings and red lipstick are eternally imprinted in my mind’s eye. It’s a faultless look that stands the test of time and is so specifically Selena.
The truth is, I could have gone to the exhibit to see the outfit earlier. I’d heard about it in passing a few months back. Maybe I didn’t go right away because I knew that once I did, it would be one less new thing to experience—another fleeting connection to a life left unfinished that comes and goes too soon.