The Madness of Michele. Welcome to the opera. Alessandro Michele’s Gucci opera. He is, we have decided, like the Tim Burton of fashion as tonight in Arles the Gucci gang (or ghosts) marched, back from the dead amongst lichen-covered tombs. Italian Horror Story. The Walking Dead. This ancient city is the resting place for the most notable citizens of 4 A.D. AKA it’s haunted as hell. Hell-ish it was, in the best way. Flames fired up, lighting the way for the boys and girls in their Gucci Cruise 2019. And cruise they did, down that fiery runway in the dark, dead of the night. It was a glory box of oversized wide shoulders, eccentric nerds, the line between fashion and costume was wrestled out before us. A killer flared velvet suit sauntered with a whole lot of swag, crosses hung from necks and ears, so holy. Dresses tiered in floral prints, cotton voile rags to riches. Something so innocent floated through the collection heightened by the sinister operatic eeriness of Zbigniew Preisner’s ‘Requiem For My Friend’ filling the ancient city, breathing in new life. Definitely waking those spirits. Seat belt-esque belts were tied around men’s waists, monogrammed pants fell perfectly in line, drawstring canvas bags were stamped with “Laundry Chateau Marmont”, with a good old Gucci sneaker leading the way. Animal prints crept onto pants in outrageous colours, windbreakers took a new direction in amongst all that suiting and drama dresses. Veils fell from berets and tassled headpieces shook with the blackest sequins reflecting on those flames. Shades of pink were the new cool. Oh we could go on… well, there were over 120 looks. Michele is unstoppable. As we had been told by the voiceover from Jean Luc-Godard’s Vivre Sa Vie in the teaser before the show, “After all things are just what they are. A message is just a message. And life… is just life.” Simple. It is what it is and this is the ominously good Gucci life. No rest for the wicked here.
by Roxy Lola
Photography by Jason Lloyd-Evans