Mexico City is vast. So vast it’s impossible to really explain to anyone who hasn’t lived it. Even those who visit the city for weeks, months, at a time and exhaust themselves trying to maximise their time visiting the city’s many museums, parks and markets.

It takes me well over an hour on the highways to get from the city centre down to a studio in south where we’ve been invited to join adidas behind the scenes on a shoot of their new collaboration with local brand Someone Somewhere.

As the drive drags on, I wonder if the metro would’ve been quicker than this circuitous trip on the motorway, but then I look down at the polystyrene plate laden with quesadillas and remember I probably couldn’t have eaten them on the train. I stop mentally griping about the ride.

When I do arrive, it’s at a deeply unassuming gate, tall and metallic with no information beyond a number indicating it as my destination. The street is quiet, with all the hallmarks of a typical neighbourhood in the capital: one house has the doors flung open and seems to be doubling as a garage as its inhabitants tinker with a couple of cars outside, further down the street I spot a shrine to the virgin Mary surrounded by flower pots and a few houses along in the other direction a hand written sign hawks various popular street food options. 

Despite the worlds of difference between sewing and football here in Mexico, that both are acts that bring communities together.

Behind the gate, it’s much busier. People rush around the courtyard carrying things on and off the set, recharging cameras, pulling props together and gathering signatures.

They’re all working to perfect the world behind a set of doors to the left. This is where the teams are hard at work setting up and shooting the next adidas and Someone Somewhere lifestyle collection combining artisanal embroidery with the Mexican national selections third kit for the World Cup.

The kit itself melds adidas’ latest technology with embroidery painstakingly stitched by Nahua, some of whom are on set for the shoot. It’s a union of centuries old tradition with top sporting technology and fabrics, brought together.

“I’m very happy to see it here, I’m very proud,” Patricia Secundino Pérez tells me, herself dressed in the colours of the Mexican flag, “I began learning to sew at around eight years old, sewing napkins and then later the embroidery for my own clothing.”

Paty and I have caught a few minutes to talk, just as things are shutting down after an intense and exhausting day - particularly for the artisans who travelled into the city from their hometown, Naupan in the mountains of Puebla, the day before.

The pride she describes is palpable, particularly looking at the kits pinned up and photographed in the studio. There are three sets set up in this vast space and cameras seem to come from all angles, capturing the handiwork in high definition. Video cameras weave in and out of the space, it’s a whole operation. 

As this is going on around us, I chat with María Bernardina Cázares, otherwise known as Berna, and another of the artisans involved in the project. She tells me that sewing is more than a trade; it saved her life. A severe case of preeclampsia left her with hypertension. The doctor’s prognosis was not good, but Berna used embroidery as a form of therapy, gradually rebuilding her strength, confidence and autonomy. 

Berna’s earnest belief in the potential of sewing is on full display, as she recounts how transformative it’s been to her in her life. She encourages me to learn, making a compelling case to pick up the needle. 

It strikes me, as Berna and I talk, that despite the worlds of difference between sewing and football here in Mexico, that both are acts that bring communities together.

In 2014, Petra Secundino and her sisters, Catalina and Patricia, were founding members of a new collective, Mujeres Unidas Chakalxochitl, in collaboration with Someone Somewhere. In the years since, MUC has brought more than 150 artisans together, transforming their embroidery skills into a shared enterprise.

The women involved in this project have taken their craft and built a social and economic movement with it. Cristina Ortiz Cavioto even turned the second floor of her home into a workshop for the artisans to meet; this was the headquarters of adidas and Someone Somewhere’s first collaboration in 2024. 

Now, on the cusp of Mexico hosting the World Cup, they’ve reunited once again, drawing embroidery into conversation with football, the country’s great passion.

Naupan is not far from the home of Mexican football, Real de Monte, a two hour drive away in the neighbouring state of Hidalgo. Football first arrived on these shores in the late 1890s, brought to mountainous regions in the centre of the country with English migrant workers. 

In the 20th century it spread widely, and now people gather to play on pitches of varying quality across the country. Intergenerational weekend games that pop up in cities and towns are often social affairs for the whole neighbourhood as people pull up with coolers filled to the brim with a selection of beverages to keep spectators happy under the relentless sun.

Towns in the Sierra Norte of Puebla often have football pitches next to the churches and, like in much of the world, football jerseys have escaped the pitch and become the attire of choice for those hard at work harvesting in the fields. In Naupan, calls of ‘Ronaldo’ and ‘Giovanni’ can be heard during street matches as kids bearing the names of their fathers’ footballing heroes hone their skills.

Back on set Paty watches as cameras move around the room filming and capturing her handiwork. She gets her own photo taken with one of the shirts in hand before the lights cut out, wrapping up a long day for everyone involved. 

The following week, remembering Berna’s entreaties to pick up a needle, I forgo the tailors. Instead, I do a terrible job of hemming a shirt and am filled with renewed awe at the artisans’ labour and carefully honed skill. I will not personally be taking a needle to any of my own jerseys anytime soon.