The Rise of the Designer as Influencer
Tia Adeola, Raul lopez, and sandy liang
In the era of algorithmic fame and hyper-curated feeds, the designer has stepped out from behind the atelier curtain. Today’s fashion creatives are not just sketching looks, they’re shaping narratives, building followings, and embodying their brands. For designers of color, this recognition is more than marketing; it’s reclamation.
In the work of Raul Lopez, Sandy Liang, and Tia Adeola, we see how brand storytelling, celebrity presence, and personal identity fuse into something bigger than product. This is designed as influence, influence as authorship.
Raul Lopez: LUAR as Culture and Celebrity
Brooklyn-born and Dominican-rooted, Raul Lopez doesn’t just run a label—he runs a world. His brand, LUAR, sits at the crossroads of New York edge and Caribbean flair. Founded in 2011, LUAR has evolved from underground cool to industry staple, doubling down on Lopez’s lived experience as both muse and maker.
Fans have described his studio as “dotted with visual markers of his brand”—from a Mary J. Blige shrine to a DIY sign that reads “CHOPPED”—it felt perfectly on-brand. Lopez isn’t chasing aesthetics; he’s curating culture. From dressing Lil Nas X for the Met Gala to the ubiquity of his Ana bag (seen on everyone from Dua Lipa to Solange), LUAR is as much a movement as a maison.
On Instagram, Lopez blurs the line between streetwear and storytelling. His posts are an archive of identity: gangstress chic, Dominican visual codes, gender play, and unapologetic glamour. LUAR’s sales jumped 140% from SS22 to SS23, a statistic that says what the streets already knew: the people are buying what Lopez is selling.
By placing himself at the center of his brand’s narrative, Lopez redefines what it means to be a Hispanic Designer in fashion. He’s not just crafting clothes; he’s crafting presence.
Sandy Liang: Nostalgia, Selfhood, and Street-Girl Celebrity
While Lopez’s world pulses with downtown drama, Sandy Liang’s operates on quiet power. Her label, founded in 2014, is part Chinatown, part coquette, all New York.
Liang, Chinese-American, Flushing-raised, designs from memory: the textures of girlhood, the softness of nostalgia, the offbeat elegance of the everyday.
Her viral fleece jacket from 2019 became the unofficial uniform of the cool-and-cozy crowd—a piece that blurred the line between comfort and clout. Her Lower East Side boutique mirrors that same energy: intimate, local, and full of cultural callbacks.
On Instagram, Liang’s feed feels like a visual diary—feminine yet grounded, sentimental yet knowing. It’s pink bows and pavement grit, ballet flats and banh mi. Her world hums with nostalgia, but it’s never naïve.
By positioning herself as both designer and muse, Liang proves that influence doesn’t have to scream. It can hum, shimmer, and linger, a quiet rebellion wrapped in organza and memory.
Tia Adeola: Ruffles, Roots, and Rising Stardom
If Lopez brings swagger and Liang brings softness, Tia Adeola brings fire. Adeola launched her eponymous label while still in college at The New School in NYC, having grown up London-raised and Nigerian-born. By 18, she was already dressing Gigi Hadid, SZA, and Cara Delevingne. Her signature? Ethereal ruffles that feel part Renaissance, part revolution.
During the pandemic, Adeola’s pivot to designer face masks went viral, but her deeper brilliance lies in storytelling. Her FW22 menswear collection nodded to the End SARS movement in Nigeria, merging activism with artistry. And when she opened New York Fashion Week in 2022, it wasn’t just a milestone; it was a statement.
On Instagram, Adeola’s presence is pure expression: aesthetic but intimate, fashion but political.
She embodies a new kind of influencer-designer, one who curates as she creates, one whose personal feed feels like a moodboard for the culture.
From Behind the Seams to Center Stage
So what happens when designers become influencers? They reframe fashion’s visibility game. No longer the ghost in the credits, the designer now is the face of the brand. Lopez, Liang, and Adeola aren’t selling us escapism; they’re selling a version of authenticity that feels reachable, lived-in, and real.
For designers of color, this is revolutionary. Their aura translates into agency: the power to tell their own stories, to fold heritage into luxury, and to build audiences that care about both the craft and the context. The designer is no longer hidden behind the muse; they are the muse.
This shift also calls fashion out on its old hierarchies. When the creative director has their own platform, when their heritage, politics, and community show up in the product—fashion stops being exclusive and starts being expansive.
The Closing Look
This story isn’t just about who’s trending, it’s about who’s transforming. The rise of the designer as influencer signals a new kind of power: one built on culture, credibility, and community.
So the next time you scroll past a designer’s post, pause. You’re not just seeing a campaign or a collection, you’re witnessing a redefinition. The designer is no longer behind the seams; they’re front and center, shaping fashion’s future in real time, one post, one look, one story at a time.
