He's the one with the Saturn halo.


What a fuckin’ guy.

Now, before I go on to gush over the universally known fashion house Gucci’s current creative director, Alessandro Michele, I feel that I should disclose my personal history with Gucci first. My earliest memory with even the name itself was all too vague and generic for me to care, I mean growing up as a boy in such a sheltered area of Queens meant that if you liked colorful anythings that isn’t up to the societal norm of the western world or was weird at all in any aspect you were gay as fuck and weird as fuck! Of course, that included interest in fashion, even the very word, “fashion”. Let’s be honest, nobody’s fashion sense was any good during middle school. Or even high school. Nobody dresses well, and that’s the beauty of growing up and developing a more open mind; at some point in my life I got to recognize “Gucci” being something of a higher power, something unattainable by some kid living in a basement with non-English speaking parents and a brother who’s struggling to find a stable job after the economic crisis. Halfway through high school I got to know people who wanted to pursue fashion and could very well be the next Comme Des Garçon or something, and they’re all goddamn fabulous; so confidant and so sure and so fucking bold, goddamn fashion people can be inspiring as hell. Around that time, I came to realize that there’s more to appearances than being able to afford what you can only afford, you know? Just because you can only buy American Eagle or other basic, plain clothes don’t mean that you can’t peruse the silk and chic that high fashion houses, well, house. Near the end of high school I found out my brother had gotten a thick black Gucci belt with the interlocking double G’s and with the debossed monogram that his co-workers gifted him for his birthday or something; that was the first time “Gucci” started echoing. Once spring had sprung during my senior year in high school we had an awesome opportunity to go to Italy for spring break, and it was the absolute best. It was strange though, before I got to our first stop in Milan I jokingly mentioned Gucci in conversation but the more it came around in relevance the less casual I thought of it… Man, by the near end of that trip I knew I had to get something from Gucci. The itinerary for the Italy trip was pretty much Venice, Florence, and Rome. The only time we were able to roam was, funny enough, in Rome. Sadly we didn’t have enough free time to explore Florence, so I couldn’t even step inside the Gucci Museum in Florence to experience a more luxurious taste of art history. But I was determined. Determined to get something from Gucci and rock it victoriously back home. And I did! It was when we roamed in Rome that I was frantically and desperately looking for a Gucci, but long story short I found this small-ass Gucci store with a slick downstairs and copped a belt with only five more minutes until our last rendezvous back to the hotel; man did I learn some things in that heated moment of buying that damn belt: belt sizes are a thing, and high fashion is too fucking expensive for an eighteen-year-old art student. But goddamn if that belt didn’t smell of a Roman Gucci store for weeks. Hot dog! After that whole adventure, I just started looking up more about Gucci’s current collections and styles and man when I remember my first time in that Roman Gucci I remember the exclusive honey bee embroideries and sleek, smooth textures all around and simultaneously reek of the shit only raw power can buy. It was in those last months in high school did I finally figure out the madman behind these incredible few years of opulence: Alessandro motherfucking Michele. His visions of honey bees and snakes and tigers and really just nature in its most daring state was one of the biggest drives for me to create art so fresh, so much wilder than ever before in my life. At the same moments I took inspiration from pop artists especially from Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein. I merged the worlds of Michele’s blooming vision of our flowering threads with my then newfound journey into the vortex of digital illustration.

What a fucking time to be alive.

Alessandro Michele doesn’t skip a damn beat.