Peace & Love

Written by Brie Parker

10 March 2026

Digitally Published 10 September 2026

The hippie movement in the 1960s was more than just peace banners and protest songs; it was a cultural rebellion. Frustrated by war, materialism, and inflexible societal conventions, a new generation turned to art, music, and fashion to express their freedom and uniqueness. Flowing textiles, handmade jewelry, and "natural" styles came to represent authenticity and resistance to the mainstream. However, the cause's hunt for meaning frequently turned into cultural stealing. Hippie fashion drew significantly on Indigenous and non-Western cultures. I called up a friend of mine with Navajo roots to ask her what she thought:

AMANA: “To see if it's general knowledge, if you could guess, what pieces do you think are directly derived from certain indigenous tribes?”

INTERVIEWEE: “I think a lot of mainstream fashion unknowingly borrows from Indigenous design elements — things like fringe, beadwork, moccasin-style footwear, and woven patterns that resemble traditional textiles. Ponchos, blanket coats, and certain geometric prints are also often inspired by tribes like the Navajo or Pueblo without proper acknowledgment.”

Much of what became known as "hippie chic" may be traced back to the Lakota and other Plains nations' artistic traditions. Fringed buckskin jackets, long braids, and beaded accessories, fringed leather, turquoise jewelry, and feathered accessories became staples of ‘free-spirited’ hippie fashion — yet their origins were far from carefree. What the 1960s counterculture celebrated as symbols of rebellion were, in many cases, sacred expressions of Native identity, stripped of meaning and sold as style.

Hippie style emulated and stole elements of Native American culture, particularly through apparel and a romanticized—and often stereotypical—view of Indigenous spirituality and rituals. Borrowing without knowing the cultural background or historical oppression is frequently viewed as a type of cultural colonization. When asking fashion student Owen Burness his opinion, this was his response: 

AMANA: “What are the first things you think of when hippie style or the peace movement is mentioned to you, especially in terms of fashion?” 

BURNESS: “It’s that mix of effortless and intentional, where fashion became a form of protest as much as self-expression. The style kind of represented a break away from conformity and tried to embrace individuality and inclusivity in an ironic way.

All 1960s bohemian fashion classics, had cultural and spiritual significance at the time. Fringe was not a fashion statement for the Lakota; it had a practical purpose, dispersing rain and expressing the wearer's connection to nature. Feathers had ceremonial significance, denoting honor and relationship with the spirit world. However, in the control of the counterculture, these sacred elements were decontextualized and remade as symbols of rebellion and freedom, separated from the Indigenous realities from which they originated.

Now, let’s talk about the Navajo: The hippie movement’s love for turquoise stones, silver jewelry, and woven textiles drew heavily — and often unconsciously — from the Navajo Nation’s centuries-old artistry. For the Diné, turquoise represents life, protection, and a sacred connection to the earth; silverwork and weaving are cultural legacies passed down through generations, carrying both spiritual and communal meaning. Yet in the late ’60s and ’70s, these elements became detached from their origins, rebranded as hallmarks of “bohemian freedom.”

Hippie style has evolved into something more gentle, a carefully managed blend of retro elegance and festival sophistication. What originated as a countercultural disdain of conventional clothing now continues on through "boho" fashions, thrifted maxi dresses, crochet tops, and desert-toned fringe coats offered at luxury rates. So the history of where it began is not on everyone’s mind when they walk into an Urban Outfitters or Anthropologie; it's certainly not the first thing to cross mine when I see a concho belt that I like.

Ignorance is bliss, so providing information to spread awareness and accountability is a big highlight of having a voice in the fashion industry. Speaking of, buyers weren’t the only ones advancing the spread of appropriation; brands were. Throughout the history of almost every designer brand, they face accusations of being insensitive to a certain group. Gucci, Dior, and Chanel have all received the wrath of both the media and public for certain texts, graphics, or materials considered blatantly offensive.

In 2019, Dior's "Sauvage" fragrance ad campaign used Native American images and a Native dancer; the term "Sauvage" ("wild" or "savage") elicited strong criticism. According to Time Magazine critics, this type of branding appropriates symbols and language without regard for context. Gucci, in the same year, released a $890 black balaclava sweater with a roll-up neck and a red outline around the lips, which drew direct analogies to blackface imagery.

Throughout the history of almost every designer brand, they face accusations of being insensitive to a certain group. Gucci, Dior, and Chanel have all received the wrath of both the media and public for certain texts, graphics, or materials considered blatantly offensive.

In 2019, Dior's "Sauvage" fragrance ad campaign used Native American images and a Native dancer; the term "Sauvage" ("wild" or "savage") elicited strong criticism. According to Time Magazine critics, this type of branding appropriates symbols and language without regard for context. Gucci, in the same year, released a $890 black balaclava sweater with a roll-up neck and a red outline around the lips, which drew direct analogies to blackface imagery. Native American communities heavily condemned Chanel's 2013 show including feathered headdresses. (Le Monde) Brands repackage the image — all carefree hair, layered jewels, and flowing clothes — but rarely acknowledge the deeper histories it draws from. Hippie style has evolved into a nostalgic ideal: partly escapism, half cultural mix, and part cautionary story about how authenticity can be remade for profit. Going back to Burness:

AMANA: “Think of a brand that you hesitate to buy from because of some type of cultural backlash it received…is there any way that brand can or has redeemed itself?

BURNESS: “One brand that comes to mind is Gucci — especially after the whole thing with the balaclava sweater that basically resembled blackface imagery. I think they’ve made some progress, but it’s still something that takes time to rebuild trust.”

Though Ralph Lauren has had a rocky, rocky past, it steps in a forward-thinking direction in recently collaborating with people of color by creating a capsule collection inspired by Navajo culture and collaborated with Navajo weavers (such as Naiomi Glasses) to create home furniture and textiles that directly benefit Indigenous craftsmen.

In a positive light, Indigenous designers which aren’t examples of appropriation but of authentic cultural expression like Penny Singer, Orlando Dugi, and Carrie Wood deserve recognition as well. They use traditional design, patterns, and motifs from their own traditions in context-appropriate ways, frequently execute the job themselves, and directly serve their communities.

Wrap-up:

The history of hippie fashion is as complex as the era from which it sprang. What started as a protest against conformance evolved into a commercial aesthetic, borrowing widely from civilizations it barely understood. Hippie style lives on not only as a fashion statement, but also as a reminder that freedom with no awareness can quickly devolve into another form of exploitation.