Under the busy streets of Midtown Manhattan, the soothing hum of sewing machines is peppered with the buzz of multilingual chatter. About a dozen students that hail from different parts of the world huddle over their clothing patterns and help each other take their measurements. Their teacher, Hugo Herrera, flits around the room with quick feet and even quicker hands, helping his students hone their sense of clothing design and construction.
In any other studio, this weekslong sewing and design class would cost hundreds or even thousands of dollars. Here, the class is free.
“I suffered a lot in my youth because we didn’t have a lot of money to study,” Herrera says. “Today I see people who don’t have money to pay for college, to pay for an academy. The prices are excessively high; it’s very, very expensive to study.”
Herrera, a Colombian immigrant who now lives in New York City, inherited his sewing skills from his mother, who was a seamstress for over 40 years. Like so many in search of better opportunities, he moved to the United States and started a business of his own — a tailoring and pattern-making company — alongside his wife Nidia.
His nonprofit Stitches by Hugo, founded in 2024, offers design classes to low-income residents and immigrants to help them overcome the hurdles many face in the fashion industry, which has long been criticized for its expensive barriers to entry and lack of diversity. “We are all equal, we all have the right to learn,” Herrera tells me. “People who are willing to teach selflessly must do so. We must think about our neighbors. We must think about other people. We must help.”
Herrera’s classes inherently force both design students and consumers to engage with the clothes on our backs with more intention: Who makes our clothes? What kind of labor goes into its construction? What role do we play in the politics of fashion?
In a world that has increasingly shifted toward fast fashion ― often made unsustainably, unethically and overseas ― Herrera offers students the tools to rethink their connection to their wardrobe. He encourages the use of upcycled and recycled fabrics, teaches a zero-waste design method, and urges partnership with ethical manufacturers for those looking to begin their own brand.
The class, held by and for immigrants in a safe space below ground, is also a reminder of the pressures facing immigrants above ground amid an increasing anti-immigrant sentiment. Herrera’s nonprofit serves as a reminder of the humanity and community immigrants create for themselves and others across the country.
“You can see the happiness in their faces when they learn to do something that seemed impossible,” says Herrera. “The greatest experience is seeing my students now as entrepreneurs, as business owners.”
Strangers-turned-classmates help one another measure their arms and legs. One student translates a set of instructions for another. Together, they discuss their big plans for their future. It’s a quiet kind of social justice, based around community care and solidarity.
For the vast majority of students (who find Herrera through either social media or word of mouth), the class is about more than learning a new skill for many of his students. Some are seeking to develop self-sufficiency through entrepreneurship. Others are seeking stability and rehabilitation after trauma. The room is heavy with the weight of the dreams that students have for themselves, building new and better opportunities for their families.
Of the almost 180 people who have studied with Hugo so far, more than five have already started their own businesses and many more are considering ways to implement their newfound skills. Student Jenny Garcia, a Dominican mom of two, tells me that the classes are like “therapy” in the wake of the end of an abusive relationship. Her mother was a seamstress when she was a child, and it felt as if she were “reconnecting to the beginning, a time when I was more at peace with myself.” She hopes to start a loungewear line.
Student Karen Cruz says she wants to build a modest clothing brand based on her Christian faith that also fits her personal style: “Right now, people think being modest is boring. I want to make something more unique and different and colorful.”
For student Veronica Twazon, who is a sustainability consultant in her day job, learning exactly how clothes are made has helped her fully understand the value of the labor behind each item in our closets.
“When I learned through my work in sustainability about how problematic the fashion industry can be, when it comes to pollution, workers’ rights, all of those things, it’s something that’s really changed how I look at clothing and how I shop as well,” she says.
Student and Harlem native Danielle Rochester got emotional on her first day in class as the granddaughter of a seamstress. She hopes to add a one-of-a-kind clothing line on top of her dessert business, Rocky’s Goodies.
“Everybody’s helping each other out. Everybody’s explaining. If we see that someone else is a little better at measuring, we’re like, ‘Can you help me?’” she says. “It’s about coming together in a melting pot and just feeling at home.”
The urgency and impact behind Herrera’s work evolves daily. He is now fielding thousands of requests for a spot in his free classes and added two additional class offerings to his schedule.
“If a person does not have the financial resources to study, organizations like mine give them the opportunity to learn without paying a high cost,” he says.
He just hopes he can keep up. He supplies the fabric, the tools, his time and expertise. He relies solely on personal donations and the goodwill of people who believe in his mission.
“As long as I live, as long as I exist, I will continue teaching here in my workshop,” Herrera says. “Because I have a small factory, here inside my workshop, until the state of New York or some organization gives us a donation or a better place for me to put my students.”