Bryan Jimenèz
Is Making Heavy
Clothes for
Uncertain Times
How the Young Designer Moved From Graffiti to Building His Brand in a Harlem Studio
- Interview: Jordan Coley
- Photography: Neva Wireko

“Do I tell you the whole life story, or the fashion life story?”
I had just asked Bryan Jimenèz—the 26-year-old designer—how someone from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, who moved to Queens at 14 barely speaking a word of English, came to helm one of New York’s most intriguing new brands.
His fashion life, he tells me, sort of begins in his senior year at John Adams High School in Ozone Park. A classmate of his had good style: “Hood fashion stuff, but I was really feeling it.” And he told Jimenèz about a school in the city called FIT where you could learn how to make clothes. Intrigued, Jimenèz enlisted his grandma to teach him how to sew and began looking into applying. He started apprenticing at a local tailor shop to have things to include in his application portfolio. There was one additional hurdle, however: “I still barely knew any English,” he says. “I was literally translating the FIT application requirements on Google.” The language proficiency portion of the application tripped him up twice, but each time he returned to his work at the tailor shop, deflated but not defeated.
When he eventually did get accepted in 2016, he was determined to utilize the institution’s resources to become the best designer he could possibly be. He gained new skills and honed a burgeoning creative vision that would land one of his earliest creations on the red carpet of the Grammys.
Surviving an adolescent uprooting, a new language, the New York City public school system, four grueling semesters of fashion school, and the slog of day jobs and internships requires mettle. To examine Jimenèz’s designs is to be confronted with the cold, hard material of perseverance: steel-riveted parachute hardware binding the straps of a backpack, the sharp metallic glint of fang-like shoe crampons that ground his slate-gray utilitarian looks. His clothes are hard. Not, as he explained to me, in the “they look cool” sense, but quite literally industrial hard, war hard, even chemical disaster hard. To Jimenèz they’re totems of strength, power, and authority—hallmarks of an aesthetic language that has taken years to hone.
Jimenèz spoke to me over video call from his Harlem studio about coming up in New York, his journey into the fashion world, and creating his own aesthetic universe.

Top Image: Bryan wears BRYAN JIMENÈZ shirt.
Jordan Coley
Bryan Jimenèz
What was it like moving to New York at 14? What kind of culture shock did you experience?
When I was in the DR, my mom moved [to New York] and she sent me back this video game. It was Marc Eckō's Getting Up. It's like a graffiti game. When I got to New York and saw that that game was actuality a reality of the environment here, I was taken aback. In a way, that's how I started doing tags, and I almost got in trouble for it once. That messed up a lot of my family dynamic that I had here in the US.
You got in trouble for doing graffiti when you got to New York?
Yeah. And it just put me in a bad spot. I had to move from it. And once I made that move [away from doing graffiti], I started getting around and familiarizing myself with more of the fashion scene here in New York and who the designers were.
And who'd you fall in with when you moved here? Who were your friends in high school?
I was cool with everyone, actually. At first, it was a bit hard because it was different. But little by little I started fitting into the space and the overall feel of everything and I started becoming friends with the gang members. [Laughs] But I'd be cool with the Dominican Patia n—s, but then like, I'd be also cool with the head of the [Latin] Kings [laughs]. But I was never in the gangs themselves.
You were Switzerland. You were neutral.
Yeah, yeah, I was neutral [laughs].

Bryan (left) wears BRYAN JIMENÈZ jacket. Bryan (right) wears BRYAN JIMENÈZ vest and BRYAN JIMENÈZ thermals.
After your friend told you about FIT and you became more interested in fashion, did you start spending time in the city? Were you one of those teenagers hanging out in Soho?
Yeah, it was funny because we wouldn't actually do anything. We would just go around. When the Virgil [Abloh] Been Trill thing was happening, we would just pull up to the city and do nothing. Like, we didn't know anybody.
What happened after you figured out how to apply to FIT?
I got rejected for a whole year. Partially, it was because I started to sew to fulfill my application portfolio. My grandma taught me a little bit, and then I went to this tailor shop.
The first time I got rejected from FIT, I was kind of like, I'm gonna keep applying. Whether or not I get in, I'm gonna keep learning because I'm already on the path.
The reason I wasn't getting into FIT was because I was an ESL student, and being an ESL student you have to take this exam that tests your English proficiency. It focuses on how quick you can understand, and I always failed that. And through the third time of me applying, someone from the Admissions Office reached out and asked me for my grades from the junior college I was studying fashion marketing at.
They finally admitted me in the middle of the year, so I skipped the period where I was supposed to take electives. I just went into taking straight fashion courses. And then, towards the end of my fourth semester, I didn't get my diploma because I was missing those electives. But Brent Faiyaz had worn a bag of mine at the time, so I was already moving forward with the brand.
How did Brent Faiyaz end up with your bag at the Grammys?
Basically, this guy that Gucci Mane signed—Lil Wop? I was in contact with a stylist that was styling him. And I had made the bags, but I had not put them out yet. But the stylist was reaching out and I sent him photos of the bags. So basically, Lil Wop wore the bag before I released it. Brent Faiyaz was at his show, saw it, went backstage, figured out the name [of my brand], and bought it off my site. He was the first person to buy the bag on my site.

Bryan wears BRYAN JIMENÈZ mask.

Featured In This Image: BRYAN JIMENÈZ jacket and BRYAN JIMENÈZ tote.
You interned in a Rick Owens showroom—how did it inform the work you wanted to make?
Before working there, I saw Rick as this person that's so strong within their own being. They understand things so strongly and in their own way. I think that's the thing that I admire. Going to work there, it just felt heavy. And there's an aspect of heavy that is appealing to me. I think in my clothes too, there's an amount of attention on the weight of the fabric.
I had to see that structure. It inspired me. It gave me a lot of energy. I was working on a collection during that time and I remember having more energy than usual coming back home.
Why do you think working these task-oriented jobs at other brands gave you so much creative energy?
I think it forced me to use my brain in a different way. At the beginning of anything artistic, I think that's necessary. If I gotta go home to my studio and work on luxury clothes, what am I doing during the day that's going to transmit that luxury spirit?
And working at Le Labo, for example, was that. The act of making scents: the oils, the smells that you're around, the environment where it has to be very sharp, very clean—that's all luxury.
The design language of your work feels, at times, almost postapocalyptic. Where is this extreme palette of yours coming from?
I look at attitude a lot, and what certain colors are conceived as in a certain context. And what certain pieces are conceived as in a certain context. I like to think that I'm a designer that you're gonna like for a specific thing that they did, and now [the new thing I'm making] is not necessarily that, but it connects because it all lives under the same umbrella.
My design ethos is that that mask can also be next to these shooting trousers, or the parachute hardware. What I do, I do with an intention of building an overall universe around the clothes. It's only until the most recent collection that that's shown a bit more clearly.
With that in mind: What, for example, did you hope for a look like #36 in the “CORE” collection to convey?
We're consistently looking at specific points of reference, like the military. But we're looking at these references not for necessarily what they are to the world, but for what they represent as an entity, and what are those things saying? Like, the military communicates strength and authority. It communicates power.
And, in this look, the model looks like he could be a pilot in like, 1940. He looks timeless.
What can we look forward to for Bryan Jimenèz?
I'm building my own rules. How do I compete? How do I manage myself with the resources that I have? We're not going to win the game, the same way LVMH is going at it with their brands. They have the hands to get that done and have it look clean. Bryan Jimenèz is creating a new version of clean with the resources that we have.

Bryan (left) wears BRYAN JIMENÈZ coat, BRYAN JIMENÈZ mask and BRYAN JIMENÈZ boots. Bryan (right) wears BRYAN JIMENÈZ suit and BRYAN JIMENÈZ mask.
Jordan Coley is a screenwriter and critic from Hamden, CT. His essays on music, film, television, and Dennis Rodman have appeared in The New Yorker, GQ, The Nation, and Vulture among others.
- Interview: Jordan Coley
- Photography: Neva Wireko
- Styling: Bryan Jimenez
- Styling Assistant: Raxelle Soria
- Production Assistant: Oliver Buckley
- Date: December 6, 2022

