Meet Stella Jean, the audacious designer behind Haiti’s viral Olympic kit | Canada Voices

While many designers today succumb to fleeting trends, the pressures of the bottom line or the sway of algorithms, Stella Jean remains guided by an audacious purpose and deep cultural conviction.

It’s an approach that has not only served her well but set her apart. The Italian-Haitian fashion designer went viral earlier this month for creating Haiti’s opening ceremony outfits at the Milan Cortina Winter Games, which were widely hailed as standouts at the Parade of Nations. Though the athletes only appeared on screen for mere moments, Jean’s designs made an impact, projecting elegance and dignity while challenging stereotypes about the country.

Yet few may know that the uniforms had to be redesigned at the last minute to comply with IOC regulations prohibiting overt political imagery. Jean’s original concept was inspired by a 2006 painting by Haitian artist Edouard Duval-Carrié, which depicted Toussaint Louverture on horseback. Louverture, the formerly enslaved leader who guided Haiti to become the world’s first Black republic in 1804, was central to the designer’s vision. While his image was ultimately removed for the games, the outfits retained their spirit of resistance.

Jean’s dominance continued at Milan Fashion Week a little later. Rather than presenting a conventional runway collection, she unveiled a limited-edition version of the uniforms on her website, realizing her original vision. The move is representative of her belief that fashion can be a platform for political dialogue.

At the outset of Milan Fashion Week, the designer reflected on the structural shifts needed for the clothing industry to become more equitable, inclusive and accountable.

You worked with Bhutanese artisans for your Spring 2026 collection. What inspired that collaboration?

Thanks to my role as a UN Goodwill Ambassador, I visited Bhutan through the FAO [Food and Agriculture Organization] and Mountain Partnership Secretariat. People there wear traditional dress every day – not to preserve culture but simply to live it. Women hand-weave the kira, a process that takes six months to a year. One deaf artisan guided my hand on the loom without words. That moment changed everything. Fashion can seem superficial, but behind each garment is a community surviving through labour. Witnessing that creates a responsibility to respect and sustain it.

You’ve said that countries are not ‘mood boards.’ What do you mean?

Africa is not a mood board. Asia is not a mood board. The Caribbean is not a mood board. If you admire embroidery from Kenya, work with Kenyan embroiderers. Culture cannot be replicated without the people who hold it. Social sustainability must come first – brands weaken economies when they extract or flood communities with second-hand waste. Work with communities; do not extract from them.

How did the Olympic Opening Ceremony outfits come to life?

Every element carried meaning: the turban, Creole earrings and pockets referencing baskets carried by Haitian market women, pillars of the economy. The skirt references the tablier and jupon traditionally worn by those women. Haiti is often reduced to disaster and poverty. I had metres of fabric and seconds of visibility to change perception. Now, searching Haiti [online] shows the uniform before images of violence. That matters.

How did you respond when the IOC rejected the initial designs?

On Jan. 4, they were rejected – no solution, no money, no time. I remembered my mother saying, “focus on what you have.” An Italian ski champion connected us to artisans. Two women hand-painted technical nylon overnight. Athletes got the uniforms the day before departure. What seemed like a barrier became the first hand-painted Olympic uniform in history.

You’ve spoken of a ‘fatwa’ in Italian fashion. What was that about?

Some publications chose not to cover my work after I spoke openly about racism. It was like a cultural fatwa. As the first Black designer made in Italy and a member of the Italian Chamber of Fashion, I feel a responsibility to hold the door open.

You apprenticed under Giorgio Armani. What did you learn from him?

He made “Made in Italy” a powerful passport. He also believed in maintaining style without chasing trends. He taught me that permanence is power.

How can craftsmanship be a form of cultural diplomacy?

Fashion is a diplomatic tool. Co-creating with communities impacts economies responsibly. Fashion imagery travels fast; we must use that power wisely. I also think multiculturalism is a superpower because it is irreversible. I chose to embrace cultural encounters, meeting creators from Africa and Asia as equals. Their ateliers may not look like Paris or Rome, but their expertise is equal, sometimes greater. When no one is superior, something new is created.

How significant is it for you when celebrities like Beyoncé and Zendaya wear your clothes? Who would your ideal red carpet star be?

For an independent brand, celebrity means huge visibility. It matters enormously. However, I’d choose Nobel Prize winners to be in my front row or red carpet – people who change the world like Denis Mukwege or Rigoberta Menchú. That’s my idea of glamour.

Dolce & Gabbana has faced repeated criticism for its lack of inclusion. What’s your take?

They keep repeating the same mistakes, issuing public apologies, losing revenue and yet returning to the same actions. Change cannot be strategy or marketing alone. It’s not enough to say sorry – responsibility means doing it the right way. Remember the black square and Black Lives Matter promises? It seemed like a revolution, but the errors repeat.