Migration of the World’s Simplest Functional Garment

This spring, I completed my first knitted poncho. The wine-colored merino wool, carefully constructed in a basket-weave design, feels bougie compared to the woven ponchos common in Latin America, where the garment originated. As a Mexican American, I've always felt a cultural tie to the poncho, even though they fell out of fashion in the U.S. with the demise of the Western genre in the 1970s. So, when my non-Mexican friend asked me to knit her a poncho in the same basket-weave design, I

started to wonder how this simple garment could cross borders without discrimination.

My first knitted poncho finished in March 2026

Humble Origins

A poncho is a simple garment. It has two or more large panels sewn at the shoulders, leaving a hole at the neckline for the head. Though most people agree the poncho first appeared in Peru thousands of years ago, we forget how the modern map skews ancient cultures.  Two thousand years ago, the area that’s now Peru belonged to a larger Inca Empire that extended from Ecuador and Colombia down through Bolivia into Chile.  It’s more correct to say that it belonged to the indigenous peoples of the Andes, which covered the countries that now make up the former Inca Empire.

Many theories explain how the poncho made its way to what English-speaking countries call “America.” I use quotations this way because “America” means something different to Latin Americans and Continental Europeans. English-speaking countries tend to use “America” to mean the United States of America, rather than “South America” or “Central America”.  Latin Americans and Continental European sees “America” as a single continent stretching from pole to pole.  To them, separating the U.S. from the other regions erases the rest of the hemisphere.

The most common theories are:

·         The poncho was adopted by and traveled with Spanish colonists

·         Trade routes moved the garments into other regions

·         By the 1800s, the poncho resided in what is now the United States because much of the land was owned by Mexico, and previously the Viceroyalty of New Spain for 3 centuries before that.

My guess is it was a combination of all three.

Traveling Far North

If I wore a poncho before my 20s, it would have been part of some stereotypical “Mexican” costume coupled with a giant sombrero. I was born in Los Angeles, CA, but grew up in the Pacific Northwest in the 80s and 90s, where dressing like an “American” was almost a safety measure. Coeur d’ Alene, ID isn’t known for diversity or living, and it's worse in Hayden, where I spent my teens residing near the Aryan Nation’s compound.

It wasn’t until I met my husband in Valdez, AK that the poncho entered my fashion orbit. He introduced me to the Western, a genre I took no interest in as a child. The poncho appeared at some point in nearly every movie and even sometimes took the starring role with the leading man and woman (think “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly). Not only did the poncho suddenly seem cool, but it looked like it could handle the actual cold. Prince William Sound is wet and cold for much of the year, with high winds and extreme snowfall.

That’s when I asked for my first poncho, a red polar fleece garment with kanji lettering and woven frog closures running down the front. I loved this poncho and wore it until I moved to a warmer, drier climate in Interior Alaska. That’s when I faced new extreme heat and cold cycles that I incorrectly assumed a poncho wouldn’t help with.

The Comeback Kid

After living for the past 25 years in puffy jackets, sweatshirts, or T-shirts, I’ve found a place for a poncho in my life. The COVID-19 Pandemic opened the door to work-from-home options during extreme winter weather, when it is more dangerous for me to drive through 40 Below temperatures to get to my office. My home office is warm; however, I still get cold when I sit for long periods. Tired of wearing sweatshirts, I wanted something slightly nicer and just as functional to keep me warm.

While browsing a Vogue knitting book, I came across a beautiful turtleneck poncho made in a basket-weave pattern. I fell in love.

This basketweave pattern and poncho design came from a Vogue knitting book.

I’m not a speedy knitter, and the project took more time than usual because I misread the instructions and made a fatal error at the neckline that forced me to knit a new front panel. But I persisted, and by March 2026, my new wine-colored merino wool poncho was finished. I debuted it on a wet and windy afternoon while walking with my non-Mexican friend, who gushed about the garment and wanted one too. And being from a culture focused on generosity and not being triggered by appropriation, I offered to make her one for Christmas.

I read recently that ponchos are making a comeback. And so, I weave another chapter in the poncho’s history. This time in a golden merino wool that will go well with my friend’s blonde hair and pale complexion.