There are old family photos of house parties from the ’70s that I like to stare at, of my uncles looking suave posing in a living room like they’re at the club about to take over the dance floor. Today, I’m thinking of them and of the exaggerated lapels on their leisure suits, of unbuttoned shiny shirts showing hints of a sun-kissed chest, and of a baby blue suit worn with a relaxed brown polo tucked in. As I walk through the Cosmo Plaza Food Court at 935 Santee St., where I parked my car on the roof, I pass a group of young girls eyeing the cotton candy quinceañera dresses and a pair of tourists pointing to their next destination. It’s a warm Friday afternoon in Santee Alley and I’m searching for some menswear.

“Se encuentra algo like this?” I ask store owner Pedro Ramirez of RJ Suits located on 1138 S. Santee Alley. We huddle around my phone as I show him images of Bad Bunny in the music video “NUEVAYoL” and Don Johnson in a pastel linen suit from an episode of “Miami Vice.” Ramirez looks up at his crowded inventory of electric, sequined imported ensembles and starts pulling suits down for me. Across the way, a salesperson calls out to pedestrians to come in to visit her shop. A man in a lowrider bike weaves through the crowd while another merchant blows bubbles to the delight of little kids.

Just a few weeks before, in January, federal immigration officers stood menacingly on the corner of Maple Avenue and 11th Street. No one was taken but the damage was done that day with vendors locking their doors to protect themselves. Compared to even last summer, it’s much quieter now, with fewer customers looking for bargains and crowding shoulder to shoulder. Yet the Alley persists in spite of all this. The 150 shops are a vital source of livelihood for many and an illustration of resilience. Santee Alley was born out of unconventionality with its makeshift stores designed to break retail rules. It is a place unlike any other in L.A., where customers can imagine sartorial possibilities that reflect back the uniqueness of our city’s inhabitants. Come ready to shed any rigid assumptions and play.

“This is very fancy,” Ramirez says as he shows me a soft, teal blazer covered with floral appliqués. Ramirez started selling in Santee Alley 25 years ago, when, he recalls, stores sold designer labels at cost and most merchants were Iranian not Latino. Now the alley has more of a swap meet feel, he says. I give the blazer a try.

Santee Alley, a.k.a. Los Callejones, may be nestled in the Fashion District but the place has its own DNA, unpretentious with its kaleidoscope of items to buy, from scented oils to lingerie to work uniforms. Santee came into existence in the mid-to-late 1970s for apparel businesses to sell their overstock items on the weekends. Now open 365 days, as the sign on Olympic Boulevard states, Santee Alley is our very own bazaar. Come with cash. Haggle if you want. Listen to the cumbia by young singer Estevie dedicated to the alley to get you prepped. “Barato pero me siento caro.” Yes. Cheap but leave feeling rich.

The first time I visited Santee Alley was 20 years ago when I moved to Los Angeles from the Bronx, New York. I didn’t have a sense of direction, always felt lost. Downtown was a labyrinth to me, but when I hit Santee Street and Olympic Boulevard, everything clicked into place. With its overly sensory stimulation and DIY retail spaces, Santee Alley reminded me of home. Reggaeton and banda music blared from the stores while I stocked up on the essentials: gold hoops, baseball hats and workwear to set me up in my new life. Throughout the years, Santee Alley has become a place for me to bring closer the family I left, a space where I can unabashedly experiment with my style through their selection of menswear.

When I was in high school, hip-hop was my soundtrack. We didn’t have much money, so I “shopped” in my father’s closet. I wore his Fila blue sweater with the F logo prominent and all the guys at school wanted to cop it. Meanwhile, my father was wondering why his blazers were going missing. Back then, dressing in menswear made me feel safe. The oversize blazers conjured up armor for the streets, as in, we’re outside taking care of business. I want to go back to that feeling. At Sinai Blankets on 1219-B Santee Alley, I try on a couple of Dickies shorts in a khaki color, extra stiff, while making a mental note of the Ben Davis workwear jackets displayed on the walls.

When I see Paulina López-Velázquez co-owner of Mexican restaurant Guelaguetza, she tells me she shops at the Alley for her monthly party, I Love Micheladas. She gravitates toward “super banda” outfits, shiny shirts with floral prints worn over jorts. “The stuff that I wear is for men, and I just reinvent it and reimagine it,” she says. López-Velázquez moved to L.A. from Oaxaca 30 years ago, when she was 13. “Any space that makes me feel connected or at home or makes me feel like I belong, because this is my people, I love to be there. And Santee Alley is one of those places.”

The Alley may feel like a chaotic space, but it’s about tapping in to this emotional dance to evoke the familiar. A memory is unlocked in a pair of slouchy carpenter pants and delicate stacks of golden jewelry, and the longing for home is temporarily satiated.

I’m shopping alongside a young college student who says she drove in from the Bay Area not knowing what to expect on her first visit. She admires the range of ranchero wear and tells me she’s looking for something fun to wear to go dancing later in the week. We both eye the big belt buckles. There’s also a nice selection of long-sleeved, men’s guayabera shirts, imported from Mexico, that would look great over a flowy skirt, I suggest. Nearby, two girls try on cowboy hats available in vibrant hues. In this moment, I can’t imagine a narrative where Santee Alley ceases to exist. Recent raids may try to instill fear, but this special communal space feels impervious to such weak displays. To lose it would mean to vanish a snapshot of what makes this city glorious.

Heading back toward Olympic, I enter David Apparel on 1019 Santee St. The menswear collection here is sporty with Gucci-esque matching outfits and dressy shirts emblazoned with lions. The last purchase I bought there was a tracksuit with green, red and blue stripes on the sides. Whenever I wear it I feel like Colin Farrell in the movie “The Gentlemen.” In the far corner of the store, a father with his son negotiates a price for a button-up while the song “Te Boté” by Ozuna plays loudly from a hidden speaker.

“Baby, la vida e’ un ciclo.” Bad Bunny raps his verse on the song reminding me of how life is a circle. I’m told linen suits will be coming in soon in the pastel colors I’m looking for. I pull a brown polo shirt from an overstuffed rack and press it against me. I check myself out in the mirror and wonder, would the uncles approve?

Lilliam Rivera is an award-winning author of fiction.

You’ve seen the fashion from the Oscars red carpet. Now, the Styles desk wants you to rank your favorites from the 41 below. Please vote, ask your friends to vote and come back to see how the race shakes out.

The poll closes March 16 at 5 p.m. Eastern.

Oscar campaigns are not won, they are endured. There are parties, festivals, For Your Consideration screenings, press junkets and talk show appearances. The night before the Academy Awards, I found myself — not an important person in the industry by any means — at two separate parties. Imagine if you’re a nominee, getting shuttled to and fro, shaking hands and making small talk. At the first event, I caught a glimpse of the legendary actor Minnie Driver, who was nominated for supporting actress for the film “Good Will Hunting” in 1998. She posed, smiled and looked as glamorous as ever. And, with an extreme amount of grace, she disappeared through a door in the back. Poof. Gone.

And like magic, she reappeared on the carpet right in front of me, at Chanel’s legendary pre-Oscar dinner at the Beverly Hills Hotel. She dazzled in a sparkling gown, a totally different outfit than the one I’d seen just an hour prior. After years of being in L.A., I’m not particularly starstruck anymore, but at this moment, I was something close to it. How does one glide through the chaos and the camera flashes of Oscar season with poise and perfection? And how do they keep a level head through it all?

It takes a strong will to be a star — to endure the setbacks and the struggles of making it in Hollywood. To stay on top, it takes even more. It takes a team. And one of the biggest members of any celebrity’s team is their stylist. The people who dream up the looks that sparkle at high-profile events, and who make sure that even if you don’t feel perfect, you at least look it.

Stylists are the consigliere, the therapist and the trusted right hand of any Oscar nominee. Without the stylist, Oscars season would look completely different, and probably a bit worse. How do they keep their clients from cracking under the pressure? “It’s just asking simple questions, like, ‘how are you doing today?’” I’m told by the buzzy celebrity stylist known as Turner. She’s the coolest celebrity’s go-to for fashion counsel, working with Natasha Lyonne and Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth. She says that a huge part of her job is “knowing that everything that is shared in that fitting room stays in that fitting room.” Because once you’re out of the fitting room and into an event like the Chanel dinner, the eyes and ears of the world are on you.

This year marked the 17th occasion of Chanel hosting its Oscar party, an event that insiders see as the last stop on the calendar before the big night at the Dolby Theatre. It’s co-hosted by British multihyphenate producer and entrepreneur Charles Finch, who presides over the affair with the charm and graciousness that typifies the best hosts. The Chanel dinner brings fashion, film and art together in an invigorating way. It’s both one of the most exclusive, sought-after invites in town and a jam-packed, raucous bash. Trying to make my way through the throng of movie stars, filmmakers and other luminaries was almost like an Olympic event. If they were handing out medals for not tripping over Mick Jagger, I should probably win gold.

Mick Jagger at the Chanel and Charles Finch annual pre-Oscar dinner at the Polo Lounge in Beverly Hills.

(Virgile Guinard / CHANEL)

Awards season itself is its own kind of gantlet. Millions and millions of dollars are poured into the sprawling motion picture economy of Los Angeles to drum up support for the year’s Academy Award nominees. Much of the economic health of the entertainment industry trades — Variety, the Hollywood Reporter, etc. — rely on the avalanche of ad spending and free content that comes from Oscar campaigning. The season just seems to get longer every year, creeping into the spring and summer months, with awards heavyweights like “Sinners” and “One Battle After Another” dropping mere months after the last Oscar ceremony. And as artificial intelligence and studio consolidation rock the business, the Oscars are an even more important barometer of the health of the movies themselves.

The demands placed on nominees, especially actors, are heavy. To be out in public, exposed and on display, in a fight for your professional life, you don’t just have to be charming, clever and witty in front of journalists and voters. You also have to look good for the gaggle of photographers that document your every move at events like the BAFTA Tea Party or the Essence Black Women in Hollywood Awards. Celebrities have to be prepared for the marathon at all times.

Lily-Rose Depp and Gracie Abrams at the Chanel and Charles Finch annual pre-Oscar dinner at the Polo Lounge in Beverly Hills. (Jon Kopaloff/WireImage)

From left, Gracie Abrams, Lily-Rose Depp and Sarah Pidgeon at the Chanel and Charles Finch annual pre-Oscar dinner at the Polo Lounge in Beverly Hills.

(Virgile Guinard / CHANEL)

The conversation between stars and stylists begins early, often with collaborative meetings and moodboarding. Spencer Singer styles Chanel devotees Lily-Rose Depp (in a sleeveless vest embellished with pearls and rhinestones) and Gracie Abrams (wearing a beautiful black tweed dress). His process is extremely detailed and centered around the goals of the client. “With a particular project, you tend to go more thematic, or it’s just maybe the place that we’re both in in our lives of loving a particular aesthetic,” he says. “The most fun part is throwing everything against the wall and then pulling out the things that feel strongest.”

Teyana Taylor rocking a thrilling, multicolored shearling coat from the most recent Fall/Winter 2026 Chanel ready-to-wear collection.

(Jon Kopaloff/WireImage)

Sometimes, the client knows exactly what they want and makes the call on the spot. “I’m always plotting,” Teyana Taylor, supporting actress nominee for “One Battle After Another,” told me on the Chanel carpet. Taylor was rocking a thrilling, multicolored shearling coat — look 57 from the most recent Fall/Winter 2026 Chanel ready-to-wear collection. Taylor wore the coat fully buttoned up, ready to throw it off for a dramatic reveal later in the evening. She first saw the coat on the runway and knew immediately that she needed it. “I wasn’t even backstage before I was like, ‘The coat. I gotta get the coat.’ I knew that tonight would be the perfect night for it.”

“I really love this party, because it’s easy to see people that you admire and that you would love to work with,” says Sigourney Weaver of the Chanel pre-Oscar dinner.

(Jon Kopaloff/WireImage)

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Sigourney Weaver has been nominated for an Academy Award three times and is one of the most accomplished veterans of the Oscar circuit. “It’s not a grind for me,” she said in a buttery yellow-and-black Chanel coat from Spring/Summer 2026. Weaver relishes the chance to dress up and embrace the glamour of the season. “I’m very informal in real life. I really love this party, because it’s easy to see people that you admire and that you would love to work with. The Oscars themselves are too formal, in a way, unless you’re backstage together.”

Weaver and Taylor both make it seem effortless, but sometimes, it’s not quite that easy. Alexandra Mandelkorn has styled dozens of A-list names (Janelle Monáe, Rachel Brosnahan and Laura Dern among others), helping them get through event after event looking their best. For Mandelkorn, styling is as much about storytelling as it is natural impulse. When starting a project, she asks, “Are we leaning into the character [they play in the film]? Is she an ingenue? Are we trying to have a resurgence or some sort of different look for her, and give her a new identity within fashion and the industry?” Once that’s laid out and the goals are clear, the story can be told. Clothes, like film, are a medium for creativity.

Stylists also have to get creative when things go wrong — and to make sure the cameras don’t capture a bad moment for eternity. “There’s so many things that can happen between the fitting and when you get to the carpet,” Turner says of the many perils of awards season. “Your dress can wrinkle in the car. Your strapless bra can drop four inches while you’re sitting in the car, and then you forget to, like, pull it up once you get to the red carpet. Did your strapless gown also fall when it was in the car, and you forgot to pull it up? And then you get to the carpet, and you look at the photos after, and you’re like, ‘oh, God, OK, noted for next time.’”

Mandelkorn tells the story of a perilous time where a strap popped off Monáe’s shoe. “She wouldn’t be able to walk with that,” she says. “It had to somehow be reattached. We ended up jerry-rigging it using safety pins. Thankfully, you didn’t see the shoe as she was walking.” Zippers can break, buttons can pop off, but stylists have to stay strong for their clients. “I keep upholstery thread in my kit because it’s so strong,” Mandelkorn said. “Generally when a zipper pops, it’s because it’s really tight. The girls love to be in a tight dress, so some of these zippers, they just give way. We make it work, and [fans] never know. You’d never know.”

The risks can be significant, and the rewards might not always come. Five people out of thousands of acting performances in a year can be nominated for an award, but only one wins. The uncomfortable shoes, flashbulbs and endless rides in rented cars could wear anyone down, but underneath all of the work, there must still be joy. Teyana Taylor said it simply: “I get excited because I love to wear clothes. I love clothes, I love fashion. I appreciate the art of it. I appreciate the fabric. I appreciate every garment.”

Nicole Kidman, left, and Teyana Taylor at the Chanel dinner. The spirit and beauty of the movies is alive and well.

(Virgile Guinard / CHANEL)

The attendees of this latest Chanel party were channeling all the joy they could muster before sitting for dinner. Even in a time that feels bleak, the spirit and beauty of the movies is alive and well. As I said my goodbyes and wandered back out into the lush darkness of the Beverly Hills Hotel, I thought about the end of another awards season coming to a close. Hollywood continues to undergo a transition that is shaking the foundation of the entire industry, the most important thing we can all do right now is just that. Appreciate the art of it.