Chanti Walker
Unexpected beginnings and the path towards fashion
by Raven Moran
Chanti Walker laughs as we both briefly shuffle with our Zoom cameras. With her being in New York on one side, me in Los Angeles on the other, I ask if her preference would be camera off, she jokes, “Oh no, I can be on camera. I don’t look like crap or anything.” A laugh follows, quick and charming, reminiscent of the city she found herself living in.
On opposite coasts, the contrast is obvious. Los Angeles, with its relentless heat, and New York, still shaking off the cold. Walker, who spent four years in LA before moving back east, shrugs at the adjustment. “I don’t know how I’ve survived,” she says of seasons, her delivery nonchalant in a way that makes it funnier.
Walker’s path into fashion wasn’t exactly mapped out. Raised in Midwest City, Oklahoma, in what she describes as a “sports-heavy” household, creativity wasn’t the center point. That shift came later, during college, through late-night watching of The Rachel Zoe Project. “Wait… this is kinda lit,” she laughs again as she remembers.
At the time, she was studying microbiology at Oklahoma State University, a field that came naturally. “There wasn’t a groundbreaking moment,” she says. “It was just something I enjoyed.” For a while, there was an attempt to merge both worlds by experimenting with the idea of creating fabric using yeast, inspired by research from a microbiologist in New Jersey. “That’s what started me intercepting these interests of mine: science and fashion,” she says, before laughing. “It was actually a lot. It’s cool in theory.”
Fashion, however, kept pulling focus. Early styling came together in thrift stores, building looks from whatever was available. Small gigs followed—connections to a PR firm, nuanced jobs ranging from club visuals to a mattress commercial. Nothing too glamorous, but everything useful.
Being social became its own strategy. Conversations turned into opportunities. While still in school, collaborations with a photographer friend led to styling work around Oklahoma: editorials, small shoots, even a poetry book, with outfits designed to mirror each piece.
Then, a laugh: “I guess since I had expensive taste, I knew I needed to work.”
Support at home was steady, but practical. “My mom wasn’t spending a hundred, two hundred, on some jeans!” So the gap was filled independently through gigs, through networking, through being “out there” enough to stay in motion.
High school, by her own description, looked different. “I was a degenerate,” she says, laughing. Strict parents met with a desire to go out, to push limits. “Now that I’m older, it’ll come out…but between the hours of 4 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.”
The transition wasn’t seamless. Coming from Oklahoma, the culture in Los Angeles felt noticeably less open. “A lot of communities can be gatekept,” she says. The adjustment required patience.
Then came 2020. “I got fired the same day I signed a lease.” The reset, while abrupt, wasn’t going to deter her goals. Connections built over time resurfaced, and styling work returned, starting with assistant roles. From there, a mix of reality and scripted projects introduced a new approach: building looks around character, not just clothing.
By 2022, another move felt necessary. “Not a lot of editorials are shot in LA,” she says. New York
offered a different lane. With some savings and a sublet from a friend on tour, the transition happened quickly.
Work now stretches across both coasts. Los Angeles still brings in bookings, often requiring last-minute travel, while New York leans more toward editorial and campaign work, less television.
Looking forward, the focus sharpens. More work styling women is high on the list; current projects skew heavily toward menswear, a limitation tied more to access than preference. There’s also a long-term shift in mind toward a broader creative role, even if the title itself feels off. “I hate that word! What does that even mean, really?” she says of “creative director.” But titles aside, the intention is clear: more control, more authorship, a wider scope.
What defines Walker’s approach isn’t just persistence, it’s flexibility. There’s structure, but not rigidity. Standards are set, but outcomes aren’t forced. Movement matters more than perfect planning.
There’s humour in that, too.
Words by Raven Moran
Photos provided by Chanti Walker
