Resurrecting the Glamour: The Undying Legacy of Latin American and Caribbean Vedettes
Ficheraz stands as a vibrant homage to the fearless icons of Latin American and Caribbean entertainment—vedettes whose magnetic presence and cultural influence have long been overshadowed. Growing up immersed in the colorful traditions of Carnival and inspired by legendary figures like Lyn May, the founder’s journey into this rich history began with awe and curiosity. Through a blend of archival treasures, pioneering exhibitions, and collaborations with contemporary artists, Ficheraz aims to reframe these glamorous performers not merely as spectacle, but as vital catalysts of regional identity, style, and resilience. This interview delves into the fascinating world of vedettes, exploring their enduring legacy, hidden stories, and the powerful revival of their influence in today’s cultural landscape.
Ficheraz is dedicated to preserving the legacy of Latin American and Caribbean vedettes. What initially drew you to this topic, and what do you find most compelling about their influence on visual culture and performance? Growing up in Veracruz, my family and I would attend Carnival every year, and I loved it! Especially the costumes, the choreography, and the larger-than-life performers. While most kids were watching cartoons, I was drawn to the comedy shows and telenovelas where vedettes often appeared. I became fascinated with figures like Jamaican showgirl Sabel from La Hora Pico—even though I was too young to be watching those programs at the time. Years later, as I was finishing my journalism degree, I had the chance to conduct interviews at a local TV network. That’s where I met Lyn May, one of the most iconic vedettes of the 1970s. Even as an older woman, her presence was magnetic—her physique, her confidence, everything about her was striking. That moment made something click. I realized how little had been done to preserve and celebrate the legacy of women like her.
Soon after, I started Ficheraz. The term “vedette” might not be familiar to everyone. How would you describe the role and significance of vedettes in the 20th century, especially in Latin America and the Caribbean? The word vedette doesn’t have a direct English translation. While “showgirl” might seem like a close equivalent, the comparison falls short—especially if you ask Las Vegas scholars, for whom the term has a very specific meaning rooted in casino culture. In Latin America and the Caribbean, vedette wasn’t a job description—it was a title. Like Diva or Prima Donna in opera, it signified a particular kind of stardom. Vedettes weren’t regular beings; they were stage-bound icons, meant to be seen in the spotlight of a cabaret, a theater, a TV screen, or a film—not walking down the street. Importantly, vedette is not interchangeable with terms like dancer, singer, or actress, even though vedettes often did all three.
The title was conferred by the press or the theatrical world, not necessarily because of technical skill, but because of presence—glamour, sensuality, charisma, and the ability to captivate. As Mexican pop culture critic Carlos Monsiváis put it, vedettes were “superstars” before pop singers were even called that. From the early 20th century onward, vedettes held a singular position in Latin American entertainment. They transcended class and convention: adored by working-class audiences, admired by elites, and revered by intellectuals. Their films and stage plays were commercial juggernauts, while their cabaret shows remained intimate, exclusive spectacles. They were mass-market idols and, at the same time, artistic muses—women who lived at the intersection of celebrity and cultural fascination. The archive houses over 700 artifacts related to vedettes. Can you share a story about one particularly fascinating or representative item and what it reveals about the vedette culture? Boring answer … but the magazines.
While vedettes dazzled on stage and screen, their voices were often silenced—limited to scripted roles in films, censored on television, and rarely given space to express their own perspectives during live performances. With few exceptions—like Argentina’s Moria Casán, famously outspoken—these women were icons without platforms. That’s why the so-called “men’s magazines” or pin-up publications from the era are so fascinating. Beyond the glamorous photography, these magazines often included rare interviews where vedettes spoke candidly about their lives, ambitions, and pasts. Many shared stories of their lives before fame—working as waitresses, factory workers, or cooks—offering a humanizing and deeply personal counterpoint to their public image. Another highlight of the archive is the collection of theater programs—those beautifully designed booklets that outlined each show’s numbers and cast.
The European ones are especially rich, showcasing the global reach of Latin American vedettes. Two standouts are programs from the Folies Bergère in Paris during the 1950s: one starring the legendary Cuban performer Chelo Alonso, and another featuring Haiti’s Fortunia and Argentina’s Alicia Márquez on the same bill. You’ve presented vedette costumes in a comprehensive history of costume design in Mexican cinema. Can you elaborate on the significance of these costumes within the film? Elisa Lozano, a renowned researcher and curator specializing in Mexican cinema, set out to publish the first comprehensive book on costume design in Mexican film—an ambitious undertaking given that, for much of the 20th century, Mexico’s film industry was the most influential in the region, drawing talent from across Latin America and the Caribbean. To do this, she assembled a team of experts, each assigned to chronicle a specific era of Mexican cinema. Yet one key period remained uncovered: the era of Ficheras films—sexploitation comedies from the 1970s and 1980s that starred real-life vedettes and embodied the spirit of the sexual revolution, and from where the Ficheraz project takes its name. When Elisa approached scholars about documenting this chapter, she encountered consistent rejection.
The period was often dismissed as vulgar or lacking in actual cultural value. Many fashion historians and cinema experts claimed there was nothing to analyze—after all, the women in these films were “almost naked.” The costumes, and the performers who wore them, were systematically overlooked. Despite the dismissals, Elisa quietly explored the subject further. She read essays by Ficheraz and attended lectures that reframed vedette performance as a vital part of Mexican cultural history. Still, inviting a social media-based researcher to contribute to a scholarly volume alongside academics with decades-long careers was a risk. To assess the potential fit, she requested a trial essay. The result exceeded expectations. The piece was not only accepted but chosen to close the book ‘Vestuario 1931–1981: 50 años de creación en el cine mexicano’. Including a chapter on vedette costumes—especially in a project partially funded by government institutions—was a powerful act of cultural recovery. These women had long been erased or reduced to caricature by mainstream narratives.
To recognize them as style icons, performers, and cultural catalysts is not just important—it’s revolutionary. This collaboration also led to the first in-person exhibition curated by Ficheraz, following a previous digital showcase with Google Arts & Culture. Titled ‘Pasado de Moda’ and hosted by the Museo del Estanquillo (Carlos Monsiváis Museum) in Mexico City, the exhibition was groundbreaking. It reframed vedettes—ranging from rumberas and flappers to go-go dancers and cabaret showgirls—as central figures in the history of Mexican fashion, influencing how everyday people dressed, imagined themselves, and experienced femininity and sexuality. In the age of social media, there seems to be a resurgence of interest in vedettes. Why do you think these figures, once sometimes censored, are being rediscovered and celebrated by new audiences online? In today’s digital age, nostalgia is the creative engine for Gen Z and youth culture. While American pop culture continues to dominate, there’s a growing shift toward reclaiming local icons and references.
As young people across Latin America and the Caribbean explore their own cultural histories, they inevitably encounter the vedettes, who were cultural icons, shaping fashion, music, and cinema in their own right. Their rediscovery speaks to a broader desire to spotlight regional legends who were often overshadowed or even censored in the past. Social media has opened the door for these once-marginalized stars to be seen with fresh eyes—not as relics, but as trailblazers worth celebrating. It’s a reminder that every country has its own classics, icons, and innovators. It was only a matter of time before the world started paying attention. Ficheraz has transitioned from an online presence to tangible museographic work. How has your understanding of vedettes and their cultural impact evolved as you’ve moved between these different modes of engagement? What’s been most transformative is viewing vedettes through entirely new lenses beyond entertainment. While they’re often remembered for their glamour and stage presence, engaging with their legacy in both digital and museographic contexts has revealed just how deeply embedded they are in broader cultural and historical narratives.
One unexpected discovery has been their relevance to the study of youth culture in the 20th century. Much like hippies or punks, vedettes were part of a movement shaped by and for the young. Many began their careers as teenagers, surrounded by equally young collaborators—photographers, costume designers, choreographers, and musicians—who were also experimenting with identity, aesthetics, and rebellion. Seen from this angle, their influence becomes not only artistic, but sociological. It helps explain why their presence felt so disruptive and forward-thinking at the time. Another shift has been challenging the long-standing stereotype of vedettes as maneater femme fatales. That image quickly dissolves when speaking with them directly. Many come from modest backgrounds and turned to performance as a way to survive. Their stories often involve escaping cycles of poverty, abusive relationships, or supporting children as teen mothers. Stardom, for many, was never the goal—it was a byproduct of resilience, not seduction. The project gained traction through Instagram and Tumblr. How does social media helps you reach audiences and promote interest in the history of vedettes?
Social media is a powerful tool—and while many researchers use it to amplify their work, it’s still relatively rare to see cultural history projects originate directly from these platforms. What makes social media so valuable is its ability to reach audiences that traditional academic spaces often don’t. In the case of Ficheraz, starting on Instagram and Tumblr allowed the project to connect with a younger, global audience who might not otherwise encounter this history. I’d love to see more initiatives emerge this way—where serious research and cultural storytelling are made accessible and engaging through digital platforms. When used thoughtfully, social media doesn’t replace academia; it expands its reach. How would you implement the vedette culture and style in today’s fashion? Vedette culture is already woven into the fabric of contemporary fashion, and people don’t even realize it.
Things like miniskirts, sky-high platforms, sequins, and feathers—now common in both streetwear and high fashion—were once exclusive to the world of showgirls. Even the concept of the fashion model, as we know it today, has theatrical origins. In 19th-century France, revue shows featured “models” whose primary role was to showcase extravagant costumes. These showgirls were the original muses. By the early 20th century, figures like Dolores—often called the world’s first supermodel—and Camille Clifford, the embodiment of the Gibson Girl, moved seamlessly between the worlds of fashion and performance, blurring the line between icon and entertainer. Fashion runways as we know them today, also come from that world, they were first used in burlesque theater in the United States. If fashion is due for another revival, it’s time we look beyond the usual 1990s and Y2K nostalgia. Vedette culture offers a rich, underexplored archive of glamour, spectacle, and self-expression. Ficheraz joined the creative team behind Karol G’s album Tropicoqueta.
How did this collaboration come about, and what were your specific contributions to the project? The collaboration began when Karol G followed Ficheraz on Instagram and shortly after, her team reached out. A meeting in Medellín followed, where Karol personally asked Ficheraz to join the Tropicoqueta creative team as a historical consultant. The role focused on ensuring that the visual and conceptual elements of the project—I worked in the album title, cover art, and music videos for “Papasito” and “Latina Foreva”—were grounded in meaningful cultural references, particularly those drawn from the rich legacy of Latina vedette history. The task is to elevate creative ideas by anchoring them in heritage, symbolism, and regional context—adding depth and intention to the concepts. Beyond the historical lens, the collaboration expanded into unexpected areas like choreography, styling, and set design, which has been lots of fun! Karol G wearing vedette Rossy Mendoza’s original Mitzy-designed bikini created a viral moment.
What kind of statement you wanted to make? From the outset, there was an open invitation for Karol G to wear original archival pieces. During the Latina Foreva video shoot, she personally asked to see a selection of vintage bikinis, and ultimately chose the vibrant green design by iconic Mexican costume designer Mitzy—originally worn by vedette Rossy Mendoza. I had also brought pieces by other designers, including Cuban legend Luis Cruz. The intention was clear: if the project drew inspiration from vedette culture, it made perfect sense for Karol to embody that legacy by wearing an authentic vedette costume—not just something that mimicked the style. These garments aren’t just beautiful—they’re feats of craftsmanship.
Despite all the advances in fashion technology, the techniques used to create vintage showgirl costumes are nearly impossible to replicate today. They’re handcrafted, labor-intensive, and built to endure. What might look delicate is actually designed for impact—literally. These costumes were made to withstand high kicks, falls, splits, and explosive choreography. You provided art direction, visual research, and historical consulting for Tropicoqueta. Did you have any concerns to make sure the Vedette theme was accurately portrayed? There isn’t a single, definitive way to portray a vedette—nor should there be. What made that world so fascinating was precisely its diversity. Though they shared the same industry and a foundation of glamour—often tinged with a tropical flair in the Latin American context—each vedette forged her own path through individuality.
Take Mexico’s Olga Breeskin, who mesmerized audiences by performing violin solos with a live python wrapped around her body; or Argentina’s Nélida Roca, whose mere presence—before she even moved—was enough to silence a theater in awe. Brazil’s Valéria Valenssa became the eternal Globeleza, the face of Carnival on Brazil’s biggest TV network, appearing nude save for glittering sequins as she danced samba. Then there’s Lyn May from Mexico, whose fame came not just from dance, but from her extraordinary contortionist acts. The power of vedettes lay in their freedom to define their own stardom. There was no template to follow—no right or wrong way to be one. That’s why, in shaping the visuals for Tropicoqueta, the goal was never to imitate but to evoke that same spirit of singularity, spectacle, and unapologetic self-invention. What do you hope people take away from the Ficheraz project and its exploration of the vedette legacy? While American and Anglo pop culture icons have rightfully earned their place in history, there’s a parallel universe of equally dazzling figures across Latin America and the Caribbean whose legacies remain largely overlooked. The vedettes were not just performers—they were cultural forces with stories as riveting, complex, and cinematic as those of Old Hollywood stars. What Ficheraz hopes to spark is a curiosity that leads people to look inward, to rediscover the legends within their own countries.
Writer: Frida García D Adda (@fridadda_)
Photos Courtesy of Ficheraz Archive
