This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Texas chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
Saturday mornings aren’t complete without a walk down South Congress. It’s great for my step count, and even better for my wallet, because the hour-long walk back to campus usually talks me out of spending money I should be spending on textbooks. That being said, these walks are never deemed a complete success without a trip to La La Land coffee.
After securing my Banana Cloud Matcha and casually wandering through the shops, I somehow stumbled onto what felt like the set of Daisy Jones & The Six. Instead of wallpaper, album covers were plastered on the wall and a stage with instruments scattered across, just waiting for someone to pick them up and start playing Hotel California.
Everywhere I looked, there were racks of lived-in-looking hoodies and rainbow-striped sweatpants that looked like they’d be hanging in my mom’s closet in 1975.
Aviator Nation has this effortless vibe that honestly makes sense once you know where it started. Unlike many luxury loungewear brands, they didn’t begin in a corporate office. The brand began in 2006 in a small Venice Beach garage where Paige Mycoskie was teaching herself how to sew in between shifts at a local surf shop. And the name? It’s actually a nod to the iconic aviator sunglasses worn by Tom Cruise in Top Gun, her childhood crush, and the movie she happened to be watching when the idea for Aviator Nation struck. Armed with her beat-up sewing machine and a dream, she started selling screen-printed tees inspired by the vintage pieces she spent hours hunting down in thrift stores.
She has always loved the aesthetic of the 70s. The almost-tacky flower power and smiley face, paired with warm colors, neon lights, and the worn-in textures that looked like they had been someone’s go-to after a long beach day in the California sun. After some thrift fatigue and being unable to find the exact look she wanted in stores, she was struck with her now billion-dollar business idea that has attracted a cult following for its nostalgia-inducing collections.
Mycoskie always wanted her clothing to feel personal and one of a kind, so to this day, she sketches all the designs herself. Every piece is hand-stitched and distressed in Cali to ensure customers can sense the care that went into the making of the garment while simultaneously making every piece unique.
This approach has also led to Mycoskie’s slightly unconventional route to company building. Unlike many modern fashion startups, she never took a penny of outside investment money. She chose slow growth instead, using lines of credit from banks so she could maintain full ownership this way. Aviator Nation would never be treated as a profit machine that could have higher margins if they outsourced rather than the idea, she created stitch by stitch.
The strategy itself feels very on brand. Aviator Nation has never been about chasing the fastest possible growth. It’s about building something that lasts. And maybe that’s why the clothes feel the way they do. They aren’t trying to be trendy. They’re trying to capture a feeling.
The kind of era when, according to family lore, my dad was apparently known as “Groovy Stu.”
Aviator Nation isn’t just selling sweatshirts. It sells beach hair, music festivals with iconic headliners, and the smell of Love’s Baby Soft. The kind of 70’s California dream that makes you feel like you should be driving down the Pacific Coast Highway with the windows down and Fleetwood Mac blasting.
Which is funny considering I’m actually two miles from campus, sweating my way back to West Campus with my matcha in hand.