For years, Durango carried the tongue-in-cheek reputation of being one of America’s "worst dressed" towns, a label most in town actually find quite humorous. Durangoans understand that style, while important to a degree, should follow function. Today, that mountain-inspired look has become one of the town's notable characteristics. But it’s not the only one, as influences from the Front Range and classic western wear converge with the current local flavors. Spend an hour on Main Avenue during the various seasons, and you’ll get a sample of the diverse Durango closet. Technical outerwear, hiking boots, plaid, flannel shirts, puffy jackets, and sustainable outdoor apparel are commonplace, while river shoes (think Chacos) and flip-flops prevail in the warmer seasons. Various hats also hold their ground here. The five-panel cap is close to standard issue on anyone between twenty and forty. Others, especially the gals, seem to prefer the trucker hat with various artistic depictions of the great outdoors- sunsets, mountains, wildflowers, or maybe just the Colorado flag. A range of wide-brimmed sun hats is another common observation.
In 2017, the “fashion” world seemed to take notice of the outdoor style when a writer at New York magazine coined the term "gorpcore" for the collision of recreational clothing and everyday dress. Durango had been doing it accidentally for decades, though here the clothes actually get worn even after they're a bit worn out. Call it gorpcore meets dirtbag. “Westslope style” is how Jen LaCroix, owner of Durango Outdoor Exchange, puts it. “Outdoor active lifestyle wear that can make you feel put together at work but is casual enough for meeting friends for a hike or after work at the brewery," she says. It’s a little bit western and a lot of outdoor lifestyle. “You’ll not find high heels anywhere.” LaCroix then made a remark that encapsulates the feel of the entire town: “We are using our clothing, not just wearing it.”
What sells to locals tells the story. “Plaid button-ups never stop moving,” LaCroix says, but lately workwear beats everything. “A pair of Carhartt or Dovetail overalls will sell the same day they hit the shelves,” she says. Yoga leggings, however, have been demoted. “It seems they have moved from an everyday essential to actually just being used for yoga.”
Downtown, you’ll find numerous clothing boutiques with offerings for other Durango clientele. At Durango Sustainable Goods, owner Claire Attkisson calls local dress “element-based” and driven by playing outside, or by farming and ranching, which is why so much of it arrives in the colors of blue sky, green timber, and red dirt. Her best sellers aren’t shells. A linen A-line skirt moves for its breathability, worn to work, to the weekend, or into January over alpaca leggings. Sturdy blue jeans also have their place. Caroline Golarz, who works the floor there, pushes back gently on the worst-dressed thing. “I look around, and everyone’s wearing something different.” Not anti-fashion, she says, but something else. “Embracing whatever they want as their own personal style.” What is converging, she remarks, is what people want that style made of. Customers keep asking for cotton, wool, the materials that breathe. Colorwise, her own preference runs to greens and terracottas, what she calls “Taos tones,” though she notes there’s a spectrum: earth tones by day, neon and sparkles by night.
Thrifting around town is another popular aspect of the Durango aesthetic that appeals to all ages. At Lizard Head Trading Company, you’ll find rows and rows of colorful dresses for a cool summer evening or outerwear that has aged into a vintage treasure. In Durango, sometimes the most sought-after jacket or popular band t-shirt in the room is one somebody else wore decades ago.
Ultimately, Durango's style comes down to functionality over form, interwoven with personal expression. Here, almost anything goes as long as it's comfortable. Sure, we’ll dress up when the occasion calls. As long as it’s “Durango Formal.” And as for the one accessory everybody here agrees on? Well, that would be our dog, of course.
Once upon a time, Durango was named one of America's worst-dressed towns. Decades later, the joke looks more like a compliment. From puffy jackets and five-panel caps to linen skirts and thrifted vintage, the local wardrobe follows two rules: it has to work, and it has to be comfortable.
Local retailers weigh in on how an outdoor town dresses itself, why substance keeps beating style here, and why almost every outfit in this town is finished the same way: with a dog by our side, thoroughly unbothered by what anyone is wearing.