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Just east of Downtown Los Angeles, a stylish young crowd lined up on East Olympic Boulevard in Boyle Heights on Saturday night, bathed in the pink glow of the Don Quixote banquet hall.<\/p>\n
Inside, Anita Herrera, a Los Angeles native who now lives and works as an artist in Mexico City, had curated the event and fund-raiser, El Quince,<\/a> with a collective of fellow artists. Together, they reimagined and celebrated the look and traditions of early 2000s Southern California quincea\u00f1eras, which mark a girl\u2019s entry into adulthood at age 15.<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted to push this conversation and push the boundary of this idea that a party is actually art,\u201d Ms. Herrera said. \u201cIt is actually one of the highest forms of contemporary art.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Tickets benefited Los Angeles Nomadic Division<\/a> (LAND), which supports local artists and helps to realize their projects throughout the city and beyond. The organization is celebrating its 15th anniversary, and produced and organized the event. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Quincea\u00f1eras have always taken many forms, but in recent years, some have made a turn for the extravagant. There are backyard parties, as well as big-ticket affairs in lavish halls. More recently, teenage boys have also stepped into the spotlight, hosting their own coming-of-age parties<\/a>. But the heart of the quincea\u00f1era \u2014 and the feeling of belonging and of being seen and celebrated by the community \u2014 endures.<\/p>\n Ms. Herrera, who has family ties to the Mexican state of Michoac\u00e1n, was born and raised in Huntington Park, Calif., a city just southeast of downtown Los Angeles, which she calls the \u201cquincea\u00f1era capital of Los Angeles.\u201d<\/p>\n Pacific Boulevard, which runs through the neighborhood, is a cultural hub of dress and suit shops, party supply stores and various other vendors that cater to quincea\u00f1eras and similar celebrations.<\/p>\n But she didn\u2019t have a quincea\u00f1era when she was 15.<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted my parents to use the money for something else,\u201d Ms. Herrera said.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Still, Los Angeles \u2014 specifically Huntington Park \u2014 remains a muse. Her recent work has included a series of curated parties<\/a>, designed to spark conversations around navigating dual identities. The events, called the Diaspora Dialogues, \u201care about creating spaces where even if you don\u2019t understand the same language, you can still understand the same communal language of celebration, and it\u2019s not just about Mexican culture,\u201d Ms. Herrera said.<\/p>\n The hall inside Don Quixote<\/a>, a popular setting for quincea\u00f1eras, weddings and baptisms for nearly four decades, was decorated in sky blue and white. In the center of the stage, beneath a blue-and-white balloon arch, there was an extravagant multitiered cake, with small bridge staircases and a glowing fountain.<\/p>\n \u201cI chose the pastel baby blue for the night because it\u2019s nostalgic to me, and it was a universally loved color of that time,\u201d Ms. Herrera said.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n There was a portrait of the quincea\u00f1era court, comprising artists affiliated with LAND, and a collage of quincea\u00f1era pictures that were submitted by community members and party attendees from their own personal photo albums. A lavish, shimmering periwinkle quincea\u00f1era gown, designed by Diego Medel, a dress designer<\/a> based in Huntington Park, hung on a mannequin.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Throughout the banquet hall, attendees were dressed in full glam, with a nod to Y2K style. There were pastel and metallic slip dresses alongside shiny suits and boxy blazers, as well as mini braids, pigtail buns and hair gems.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t have a quincea\u00f1era because I couldn\u2019t afford it,\u201d said Ashley Sherengo, a marketing director who was dressed in a short, pastel pink, butterfly-printed dress with matching butterfly clips in her hair.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s why I was super excited to go to this event,\u201d she added. \u201cNow that I\u2019m 32, reliving these moments as an adult feels super special and nostalgic.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The participating artists also wanted to push the cultural boundaries. Quincea\u00f1eras can be costly and often as expensive as weddings. The parties have also traditionally leaned into femininity, reinforcing stereotypical gender norms and expectations placed on women.<\/p>\n \u201cThis party is not so rooted in tradition,\u201d said Lizette Herna\u0301ndez<\/a>, 32, a participating artist from Compton, Calif.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \u201cI feel like quincea\u00f1eras have a lot of rooted problems with sexism and classism, and this one is inclusive and open to communities that maybe felt excluded in the past,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Attendees took a seat for dinner, while waiters began to serve birria \u2014 a traditional meat stew \u2014 along with beans and rice.<\/p>\n As the lights dimmed, and a fog machine filled the room. It was time for one of the most important parts of any traditional quincea\u00f1era \u2014 el vals, or the waltz.<\/p>\n Ten of LAND\u2019s artists were introduced as they walked in pairs onto the dance floor to the sound of the Puerto Rican singer Chayanne\u2019s \u201cTiempo de Vals<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n At the center of the floor, the singer-songwriter San Cha<\/a> sat on the ground, resting her face against a nearby stool as if asleep in a dream. Suddenly, she awoke and rose to be greeted by the markers of this rite of passage \u2014 presented with a doll, sneakers and a crown. She began to sing, performing a cover of Selena<\/a>\u2019s \u201cSi Una Vez,\u201d<\/a> with accompaniment by the saxophonist Lu Coy<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n San Cha then climbed onto the long rectangular quincea\u00f1era court table, transitioning into \u201cCucurrucuc\u00fa Paloma,\u201d<\/a> As she reached the finale, her voice was overtaken by cheers and applause from the audience.<\/p>\n Many attendees filled the dance floor and danced to hip-hop from the early 2000s and regional Mexican music, while others had their portraits taken.<\/p>\n In a dressing room, Ms. Herrera took a moment for herself.<\/p>\n \u201cAll our personal histories go into our collective histories, and the quincea\u00f1era is one of those big cultural touchpoints,\u201d Ms. Herrera said, reflecting on the evening, as artists walked through her dressing room. \u201cTonight was about making something \u2014 maybe not with the traditions of the family you were born with \u2014 but with your chosen family.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n