On some level, we’re all struggling right now — which just makes life all the more ripe for whimsy, as far as I’m concerned. If we’re going down, let’s go down gay and covered in glitter.
Dario Vitale, the new creative officer at Versace apparently has the same idea. Vitale’s premier offering for the house that Gianni built is so gay that it’s not even trying to hide the cock rings in front of company. It’s so gay, its poppers are showing. In other words, Vitale’s Versace is a breath of fresh air in a world that’s burning around us.
Imagine it: Inside the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, an art gallery in Milan, the air smells like espresso and twink pheromones. The lights are bedroom-dim. A pile of books sits in the corner. There’s a bed. A real one, with Vitale’s sheets on it. (I bet he didn’t wash them, either.) George Michael is blaring. And the vibe is Vitale ransacked the closet of a horny haute couture queer academic with slutty little glasses.
(For the record, I’m imagining all this, too. Who has international travel fare here on the front lines of the polycrisis?)
All the models match this sexual energy: disheveled, but the way only teenagers and the 1% can get away with. The clothes are bright, colors saturated within an inch of their lives, many with classic Versace prints. There are no gowns. There’s denim upon denim upon linen, and people of all genders have camel toe.
