Raul Solís was destined to be a designer. No, he wasn’t born into a fashion legacy, the heir to an empire, or a son of a respected editor.

He did, however, inherit the trade by patrimony: a congenital dexterity acquired by the mere exposure and proximity to it all.

Born in Durango, Mexico, Solís and his family immigrated to California and settled near Los Angeles – a hub for American fashion manufacturing – when he was two years old. At some point in their lives, everyone in the Solís family worked in the fashion industry, whether it was pattern-making, quality control, or managing factories.

These positions were passed down by trade to him and his siblings, and it trickled into every area of his life growing up. Inescapable business talk took place even outside of work — sometimes even at home over the dinner table.

He’s always considered himself a rebel even from a young age — he’s the youngest of eight — and recalls denouncing the family business because he hadn’t yet seen the artistic expression and perspective to it.

“The idea of them thinking of an outfit the night before, making it all day, and putting it on to go out really impacted me,” he remembered with awe. “They could make anything and dress themselves. The way I started building clothes comes from that: going out to be seen.”

The designer grew strong ties with the nightlife scene, was involved in parties and raves, and sewed his clothes for the night to go out, and look as fierce as he could. He was enthralled by the alternative lifestyle and adulated his style icons Patti Smith and queer Warhol Superstar Jackie Curtis.

And although his parents couldn’t afford schooling in New York, he ended up here regardless, dropping out of college in LA and making the big move to work as the women’s, men’s and sportswear designer at 7 For All Mankind, at the time still a small team of seven people.

His tenure there piqued the interest of the team at Proenza Schouler, and after five years at 7, he moved over to Proenza to work with Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez on denim.

“That was my resume,” said the ready-to-wear designer, who recently started putting a renewed focus on demin in LRS’s runway this past September. “I try to push things away when they get too close and comfortable. That whole experience at Proenza is exactly what I moved to New York to do.”

Working on LRS Studio means controlling the narrative and having the space and freedom to pay respects to his Mexican heritage — in sometimes subtle or obvious ways.

“Latinidad wasn’t involved until I was starting to build my line,” he said. “I wanted to make sure that it was infused with my heritage. It’s also maybe because I miss being near my big, Latin-built community in LA.”

His cultural references have appeared on the runway through Mariachi skeleton outfits which pay homage to Día de los Muertos, and thigh-high cowboy boots, or botas de vaqueros.

The designer works with Mexican artisans for his collections every season for specialized hand-crocheted pieces and boot makers, for example. He also produces in both New York and Los Angeles.

“When I was doing it at the beginning, things didn’t have any cultural reference,” he noted. “Now, I pretty much refer to it all the time. I’m always trying to involve it.”

Solís has been surrounded by family in an environment that has accepted him – his sexuality and nonconforming nature – and they are all an important part of his life. Like any “good” Latinx, he was taught that family is the be-all, end-all….the ride or dies.

“I’m blessed that my family has gone through so much to know what they know, and in turn pass it down to me.” he said.

And that’s what celebrating Latinidad this month means to him.

In the time we spent at the Elizabeth Street Garden together, I learned a lot about Raul and appreciated the rock ‘n’ roll way we spoke about Latinidad. Individuality has always been a huge part of who he is, and I was able to appreciate his personal way of celebrating.

“You have to love yourself, who you are and where you come from,” he said. “Celebrating that is important, not because you want to tell the world, but because it’s important to yourself. Because you want to throw yourself your own party. Because it feels good to genuinely be able to love that part of yourself.”

Editor’s Note: This feature is part of an ongoing editorial series celebrating Latinxs in fashion during National Hispanic Heritage Month.  Click here to access the series.