When Rio Uribe staged his runway show, A Poem and a Protest, in Los Angeles in November, he didn’t imagine a part two so soon in February. The time between the spring and fall seasons is a tight turnaround for any brand, and chopping off over a month of that period raises the stakes even more, but the designer is bringing attention to much higher-risk issues. Since the L.A. show, ICE raids across the country have reached a fever pitch, and there has been no time to rest in order to combat rising anti-immigrant sentiments. With a pressing urge, Uribe took to New York to continue his message in his fall 2026 ready-to-wear show, titled A Poem and a Protest: II.
The concert-cum-show, which was held at Jean’s restaurant, opened with the Bronx-based post-punk duo Planta Industrial. (Their name is a play on the term industry plant.) The show was loud—in volume and in its message. Fashion Week is a time when many designers make subtle statements about the “global landscape” or “dark times.” However, Uribe confronted these themes head-on. In fact, he said backstage that some show sponsors dropped out as a result of the subject matter—a disappointing and tense situation for any designer. “I think freedom of speech is really important right now,” he said. “I just wanted to fight the censorship.” The performance crescendoed with the screaming sentiment “F*CK ICE,” and the runway began.
Partly due to time constraints, many pieces from the November show were updated in new colorways and altered for a colder New York season. See the high-vis puffer shoulder pads and trapper hats. Signature plaids returned across most of the silhouettes, embodying the grungy gender fluidity for which Uribe is known. Many pieces were slinky and mini, like the pleated skirts and a metallic bikini top. Above all else, the clothing’s sportiness held an important function. As in part one, the styles were meant to be “resilient enough for a protest.”
Through both chapters, Uribe wished to demonstrate that immigrants are not a monolith of hidden laborers. “We’re multifaceted, and some of us are punk, some of us are gangsters, and some of us are industry professionals,” he said. “I want that to be visible and apparent.” The performance expanded through the entire stage, blurring the lines between models and dancers. Within the crowd in front of us, a multitude of identities—representative of the world we all live in—were on display.
