Earth And Fire

By Nancy R. Gibbs

The word is sensibilidad. It refers to a quality of temperament easier to recognize than define, a spacious basket of subtleties: strength without roughness, pride tempered with humor, a hint of festival, a tinge of tragedy. Like the monolithic term Hispanic, it tends to blur the individual colors of each distinct Latin culture, and yet artists, designers, actors and authors from all corners of Latin culture resort to the word when others fail to capture just what is most infectious about a Latin sense of style.

This sensibilidad is changing the way America looks, the way it eats, dresses, drinks, dances, the way it lives. Latin colors and shapes in clothing and design, with their origins deep in the Moorish curves of Spain or the ancient cultures of Central and South America, are now so thoroughly mixed into the mainstream that their source is often forgotten. There seems to be a Taco Bell on every corner, Corona beer in every bar. The First Lady's preferred fashion designer, Adolfo, is Cuban. And out of the crossover into the mainstream come some curious hybrids: bolero jackets with blue jeans, Jalapeno Cheez Whiz, Brie enchiladas and, in Santa Fe, even an adobe McDonald's.

Some observers suggest that Hispanic influence remains fresh and strong in the U.S. because its strains are undiluted. Immigrant groups have often had to renounce their past, relinquish their language and escape from ethnic enclaves in order to make it in America. By contrast, says Thomas Weyr, author of Hispanic U.S.A., "the Hispanic community wants to assimilate and remain separate at the same time." For many Hispanic Americans, the concept of the melting pot leaves too little room for diversity or identity. Better to live * in two cultures simultaneously and enjoy the fireworks when the cultures collide.

Whatever their field, Hispanic artists, designers, chefs and architects are united in their distaste for stereotypes and their appreciation of the richness of the individual cultures that are clustered under the Hispanic umbrella. "Taste is universal," insists Venezuelan-born Fashion Designer Carolina Herrera. "You either have it or you don't." The visions of creative Hispanics, like those of any other artists, are complex and individual. And yet few will deny the abiding presence and influence of a certain shared . . . sensibilidad.

DESIGN

In recent years, particularly in the South and West, Hispanic decorating styles have spread from ethnic enclave to city center to suburb. Design and architecture magazines and chic boutiques are full of the terra-cotta pots, vivid woven rugs and ceramic tiles of the Santa Fe style, and homebuilders around the country are busy slapping stucco onto plywood and chicken wire to satisfy a growing yen for adobe homes. At the same time, more public buildings are being constructed in a modern flourish on the Old World style of Spain, with arched porticoes, wide, shady courtyards and bubbling fountains. "I like a building that has a lot of romance in it, that isn't so sterile," says Miami's trailblazing architect Bernardo Fort-Brescia, who grew up in Lima, Peru. "There are moments in a building that seem spontaneous, not so rational and functional. These are the intuitive moments that show the true feelings of the architect."

Some architects suggest that in an era of spare, high-tech homes that feel like the inside of an engine, many non-Hispanics are drawn to an idealized image of a Latin refuge: an environment that is at once welcoming and protective, that holds a bit of history, a lot of family and no sharp edges. Of all the U.S.'s Latino landscapes, perhaps the most haunting is in New Mexico, where Native American, Spanish and eastern-Anglo sensibilities have boiled together in the Southwest sun for the past four centuries. The so- called Santa Fe look, romanced into the mainstream by Ralph Lauren, has turned into the hottest design fad in years. "People naturally want to return to the earth," explains Rachel Elizondo, owner of Santa Fe's Storyteller gallery, a mecca for decorators. "A clay pot built by hand in natural colors is a living thing."

To the extent that anyone can define it, Santa Fe style is largely a matter of shape and shading -- the colors of sagebrush and ashes, watery blues and rose and clay. The sand-castle city of its birth is a town without right angles, where whitewashed walls and doorways and fireplaces bend and curve, hand shaped from clay. Sometimes, as translated by non-Hispanic designers like Architect David Kellen, the style becomes an "abstraction of a Mexican type of design."

Natives see a certain irony in the sudden cachet of their homespun style. "Originally people built adobe homes, which are really mud huts, because the materials were cheap and available," explains Santa Fe Architect Michael Bodelson, 33. "It was a vernacular architecture, low technology." These days, he notes in amusement, only the rich can afford to build adobe homes, since authentic construction can add about 15% to 20% to the cost of a comparable wood-frame or brick home.

Not everyone is enamored of the style: Architecture Professor Frank Dimster, at the University of Southern California, calls the Santa Fe look "cinema architecture," an ultimately escapist style designed to comfort rather than challenge. Even some of its champions view its proliferation with alarm. "It's become too much a style," says Kellen, who has begun to shy away from using the Southwestern aesthetic. "A lot of people who don't understand it that well are making a cartoon out of it."

While Southwestern style dominates domestic design, the Moorish arches and walled courtyards of the Southeast are appearing more and more in public and commercial architecture. From the historic Douglas Entrance to the city of Coral Gables, Fla., to Plaza Guadalupe in San Antonio, the Latin elements promise sunlight and accessibility, a sense of invitation. "I've always liked porches, arcades and transitional spaces that are open on the sides," says Miami Architect Hilario Candela, a partner in what he claims is the largest Hispanic-owned design and construction firm in the U.S. "Most Latin public spaces are essentially gregarious in style. I see it as an outdoor living room without a roof."

Even as Anglo designers reach over to borrow from Spanish traditions, many Hispanic designers are seeking to break out of the constrictions of stereotype. Fort-Brescia, 36, and the stars of his 65-member firm, Arquitectonica, have designed some of the most arresting modernistic buildings in Miami, Washington and Los Angeles. "I think there is a misconception that / Hispanic influence means that everything has to look like Spain did three centuries ago," says Fort-Brescia. "To me it doesn't translate into arched colonnade."

FASHION

In fashion, as in design, the Latin influence lies largely in shape and color, and styles merge from a variety of separate traditions. From lavish dresses full of movement and mythology, bolero jackets trimmed in antique Spanish beads, toreador pants and an opulent flower at the shoulder, the look is bold, baroque and, for more and more women, irresistible.

Just as the mention of Coco Chanel conjures up the essence of French style, so does the name Cristobal Balenciaga evoke Hispanic style. The legendary Spanish designer, who died in 1972, reigned over high fashion from the 1930s to the 1960s with his sleek chemises and pillbox hats. Among his students were Adolfo, Oscar de la Renta, Givenchy, Ungaro and Courreges. Herrera calls Balenciaga the "greatest designer of all time," while De la Renta traces his use of ethnic accents to the master's influence: "Balenciaga made the most beautiful folkloric clothes ever made."

Leaving aside the high-profile pantheon of De la Renta, Adolfo and Herrera, some of the hottest young designers are building their collections and reputations around traditional Latin styles. Fernando Sanchez's luxurious lingerie, Isabel Toledo's topstitched, balloon-shaped skirts, Angel Estrada's sexy satin bustiers all have an unmistakable flair that is setting the standard for many designers across the country. "A Latin sensibility in fashion design is apparent in nuances," says Penny Harrison, a co-founder of Hispanic Designers Inc., "in a certain flair, elegance or the use of vivid color."

Among non-Hispanic designers, the popularity of Spanish lines, like the current vogue for Christian Lacroix's exuberance, is in part a reaction against the restrained styles of the past few years. "We went through a period in which we looked very severe," says Karl Logan, a Los Angeles-based designer whose collections have borrowed such Latin touches as high-waisted pants and cropped jackets trimmed with beaded fringe. "People want something that is more refreshing and uplifting," he insists. Young designers of all cultural extractions are working to capture the best elements of Spanish design and create a distinctive, hybrid style. "I try to bring it up to date," says Logan. "None of us wants to go around looking like we're wearing a costume from MGM."

Jessica McClintock, another hot West Coast designer, has also tried to play off of traditional Spanish costumes. "The shapes are stronger but simpler," she says of her silhouettes, "not old-time Spanish with ruffles." Though Latin shapes and detailing are showing up in sportswear lines, McClintock suggests that the richness of Spanish fashion is best reserved for evening wear. "Women are now wearing things that make grand-entrance statements," she says.

And few things do it better than the vibrant Latin palette: jewel colors of ruby, emerald, luscious purples, used with black or mixed together. Ofelia Montejano, 30, an up-and-comer in the Los Angeles fashion world, weaves her favorite colors -- fuchsia, chartreuse and orange -- into her fabrics with yards of colored ribbon sewn onto black taffeta. "Using bright colors this way draws on my heritage," she says. "When I was a girl in Michoacan, Mexico, I admired the way even the poorest people made use of color. They take raw color and use it in a very honest way."

At the annual gala showing for Hispanic Designers Inc., when the fashion industry examines its bloodlines and reviews its heirs apparent, young Hispanic designers have their chance to shine. Last year's winner of the Rising Star award, Esteban Ramos, 26, wowed the crowd with a Spanish tango collection of ruffled tops and sweeping skirts in periwinkle, mint and peach. For this year's gala, he will feature richer, deeper colors, hand-woven textures and fabric accented with tassels and trims. "Picture a sarape, or Mexican blanket," he says. "That's my theme." Already his vision has caught the eye of the fashion establishment. "If Karl Lagerfeld had designed those dresses," said Herrera after seeing Ramos' show-stopping stretch denim minidresses, "they would be the hit of the season."

FOOD

It may be that Americans most often sample foreign cultures through their taste buds. After years of experimentation with burritos and Dos Equis beer, they are finally becoming a bit more sophisticated about Hispanic cuisine. The savory snacks of Spain known as tapas, the distinctive bite of cilantro (coriander) in a salad or seafood dish, and the fiery blast of salsa, Mexico's peppery condiment -- are now commonplace ingredients in the menus of non-Hispanic restaurants and, increasingly, in American home cooking.

In many cities the growing popularity of Latin cuisine is altering the dining landscape. Once viewed as cheap neighborhood eateries, Mexican restaurants now number among the most upscale and trendy dining spots. "It's incredible the way it has exploded outside the border states," says Ramon Gallardo, a St. Louis restaurateur who founded and later sold the Casa Gallardo chain. In cities with large Latin populations, the trend goes beyond Mexican restaurants specifically to include a wide array of bistros, featuring the less familiar cuisines of Nicaragua, Cuba and Colombia.

In the small city of Sweetwater, near Miami, for example, people of all stripes come from miles around to dine at Los Ranchos. Opened in 1981 by Julio Somoza, nephew of the former Nicaraguan President, the elegant establishment is a beef house in the best Latin tradition. The house specialty: churrasco, a center cut of tenderloin marinated in chimichurri -- fresh chopped parsley, olive oil, garlic and spices. On a Saturday night at Versailles, the undisputed palace of Cuban cooking in the heart of Little Havana, Anglo couples slurp mamey milk shakes made from a sweet tropical fruit, while Cuban workmen just off the swing shift savor the fresh roast pork, sweet fried plantains and black beans.

Restaurateurs in other cities are realizing that many jaded urban diners eat out expecting to be entertained and want some spice in their surroundings as well. Richard Melman brings a sense of theater to all his Chicago theme restaurants, from '50s-style Ed Debevic's Short Orders/Deluxe to the Italian Scoozi. His new Cafe Ba-Ba-Reeba!, decorated in a contemporary Spanish style with a cobblestone court, features more than 35 tapas served by waiters in punk-toreador coats. "People want to be transported to a party in Spain," says Melman.

Or to a Latin American holiday. Such is the spirit of New York City's hot Cafe Iguana where a 16-foot crystal iguana named Ava Gardner dangles over the bar. The restaurant is divided into seven "vacation spots," including a tropical bar complete with a thatched roof. Proprietor Joyce Steins calls the offerings "vacation cuisine, or performance food," with a Tex-Mex accent. An interesting touch: a garnish tray with chopped black olives, onions, pickled carrots, jalapeno peppers, pico de gallo and cilantro is placed on every table. Observes Steins: "Americans crave an alternative to catsup. We place these condiments on the table the same way other restaurants place salt and pepper."

For diners who care less about being educated or entertained than being superbly fed, there are a growing number of upscale restaurants serving exotic delicacies with a Latin twist. At Dallas' luxurious Routh Street Cafe, Chef Stephen Pyles offers the ultimate in cross-cultural fare: lobster enchiladas with red pepper creme fraiche and caviar, and fillet of salmon with ancho chili tomatilloes. At Tamayo's, a $2.5 million restaurant located on the edges of East Los Angeles, appetizers include grilled marinated octopus and onion on corn tortillas, followed by such entrees as baked marinated milk-fed kid with ancho and arbol chili, or seasoned shrimp cooked in a stew of capers, olives and tomatoes. Says Tamayo's managing partner, Stan Kandel: "We've had people coming in saying, 'Where's the Mexican food, where are the burritos?' " There were, he admits, a few concessions to Anglo tastes. "We were very conscious of the spicing, that it not be too hot for some palates."

Once converted, however gently, to a variety of Latin flavoring, more and more cooks are trying their hand at home. According to industry analysts, Mexican food sales in the U.S. have jumped from $200 million in the early '70s to more than $1 billion last year. Grocery stores and produce markets are beginning to stock everything from taco shells and frozen burritos to such produce as jicama, cassava, cherimoya, yucca and papaya.

Albuquerque's Bueno Food Products has built a new plant to produce its microwavable frozen green chili stew and blue tortillas for sale nationwide. Campbell Soup has bought Puerto Rico-based Casera foods, and is considering introducing its line of Caribbean-style juices, beans, sauces and soups into mainstream markets. Goya Foods has chosen five easily marketed products for non-Hispanic consumers: nectars, Cream of Coconut, Sazon, Adobo and beans.

For the truly committed, there are the supermercados that cater to the most exotic tastes. At Tianguis, a 68,000-sq.-ft. Los Angeles market, shoppers can buy beef lips for 89 cents per lb., 24 kinds of sausage, a host of chilis, not to mention Mexican-made disposable diapers in bright colors. The built-in tortilleria churns out handmade chips, corn and flour tortillas, the bakery offers Mexican pastries, and a fish market sells live catfish from a 100- gallon tank.

As Latin styles spread through Middle America, over the airwaves, down the fashion runways and in the grocery aisles, they inevitably become exaggerated or diluted to fit Anglo images and tastes. That is reason enough for many Hispanic artists and designers to resist the labels that are often attached to their work and concentrate instead on their individual visions.

Yet their impact is potent nonetheless. Sensibilidad is already reaching, subtly but unmistakably, into America's tastes and moods, flirtations, diversions. The change comes in little ways and large, in new favorite foods and on MTV, in movies and television shows that no longer reduce Hispanics to cartoons, in clothes for a dinner dance with romance and rhythm sewn into the very seams, in public places where a spirit of community overcomes the anonymity of the city. It comes when the family takes a vacation to Mexico or the Caribbean and finds the landscape less foreign, if not quite familiar.

With a kind of healthy covetousness, America will no doubt continue to sample and borrow and absorb all that it finds most irresistible in the styles of its Latin neighbors and newcomers. A coalescence and collaboration that began 400 years ago show no sign of slowing now. So perhaps sensibilidad is bound to flourish in a society that thrives on the generosity of its people and the diversity of its bloodlines.

With reporting by Scott Brown/Los Angeles and Nelida Gonzalez Cutler/New York, with other bureaus