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leviscolwill · 8 months

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ballroom extravaganza

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: you always hated arguing with jude, but even more so when you're about to race monaco's streets (wc: 1,7k)

req: jude bellingham x f1 related f!reader ! (driver if u can or js a driver’s relative) where they argue before a match/race that doesn’t go really well + she crashes/dnf or he gets rlly hurt in a match

contents: jude is jealous, reader drives for mclaren w lando (sorry oscar my beloved </3), possible racing inconstancies (i can't drive to save my life), reader crashes (nothing too bad happens tho), gasly slander sorryyyy, language ??, quite angsty but happy (&fluffy) ending i swear

note: i didn't want to make either jude or reader 'the bad guy™' so i hope i didn't side with one more than the other writing the argument part :| i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you enjoy reading it (lmk by rb and giving feedback !!). finally, thank you for requesting anon,, i hope you like it 🫶

now playing: ballroom extravaganza by dpr ian (moodswings in to order)

"i'm just saying, i don't like the way he looked at you when he said that"

"you're being ridiculous jude, he's my teammate and i've known him for years."

jude had always been the jealous type, and you never had any problem with this, until now. he tried to tell you how lando was flirting with you when that's really just how he communicated. sure, he was kinda flirty at times, but he knew you were in a relationship and never crossed any lines with you. but jealousy seemed to get the best of your boyfriend in that moment.

"that's not the point y/n, i'm a man and i know what he meant when he said he'll take you to this 'perfect seaside italian restaurant if your boyfriend won't'. and you just stood there laughing." his voice was louder now, and you hated it whenever jude screamed, especially when those screams were directed at you.

"you're delusional... he didn't imply anything with that, he was only joking." you tried to reason your boyfriend.

"i still don't like it, i'm not asking you to never talk to him again, just make it clear you're-"

"but he knows that jude! i talk about you all the time, let's be serious for a second, come on." you laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation you were in, 45 minutes before the monaco grand prix fighting with your boyfriend in your driver room, it was probably the last thing you should be doing on a track where your focus was the most important thing.

you were always grateful whenever jude made time to see you racing because you knew how packed his schedule was. but right now, he was the last person you needed to see given the circumstances.

"jude, please just leave, i'm sick of fighting."

"i'm not leaving, we're having this conversation whether you like it or not." he said in a calmer tone, but it was too late, the damage was done.

"well, you're in my room right now and i want you out. i need to focus and you're not exactly helping right now."

"but we need to talk it out, i don't want you to go while we're fighting." you would have sworn his voice broke a bit when he ended his sentence.

"maybe you shouldn't have picked a fight with me then! maybe you shouldn't be here at all actually..." you practically whisper the last part and you immediately regret the words that came out of your mouth, knowing well you didn't mean them.

"okay then..." jude quickly gets up and you can't help but look at your feet, you can almost feel the sad look on his face.

"i love you."

you wanted to say it back but he closed the door with a loud bang before you could mutter any sound.

the only thing jude left behind was the faint smell of his cologne for you to think about what just happened and not focus on your race at all.

deep breaths. deep breaths were what you needed, you tried to shift your focus on your start, how you needed to get away from sainz, given how close he was to you. whenever your mind drifted off to the argument you had with jude, you found another thing to focus on before the race. the formation lap would start in a couple minutes, your focus needed to be on monaco's streets for at least an hour and a half, then you'll handle the rest later with jude, you always did.

the formation lap started and everything went perfectly well, you just had to wait for the red lights to turn off and you'll be gone, no more thinking, or overthinking.

"it's lights out and away we go in the streets of monaco."

perfect start, now you just had to race like you knew how to for 78 laps. nothing you couldn't do.

the first 46 laps went perfectly, you managed to overtake carlos' ferrari and pierre's alpine. everything went well, then you thought about jude, you knew he was probably still mad at you but you still hoped he was watching the race, waiting for you with papaya-coloured headphones. as your thoughts kept going you were about to get to the trickiest part of the circuit, mirabeau.

as your focus shifted back to your race, you forgot the most important thing, the biggest danger on track is the other drivers.

your brain barely had time to register the bright blue alpine trying to overtake you when there was clearly no space. next thing you knew, your head hit the cockpit. before you hit the wall at god knows what speed, you thought about how you didn't tell jude you loved him back, and how you hoped he was still aware of how much he meant to you in that moment.

pitch black, no sound at all, you couldn't feel anything for about thirty seconds because of the shock.

then everything came back. you felt the urge to move your legs around, they moved. perfect. then you felt like your position was unusual, you came to a conclusion on your own, your car was on its side. you didn't even get to think about getting out because you felt a horrible pain in your head, where it was hit you assumed.

and lastly, you saw the medics making sure you were okay, you moved your hand for them to understand the message. you were okay, they helped you out of the car, saying you would be taken to the infirmary.

you couldn't stop smiling, you felt terrible about the race and it was probably the biggest crash you ever experienced but everything was well, your family and friends saw you get out of the car safely, and you'd be able to tell jude you loved him. everything was well.

you had to answer the medics questions that made you feel like a 4-year-old: "what's your name ? do you know which day of the week it is ?" you knew it was for safety reasons but you absolutely hated it.

jude opened the door in pure jude fashion, loudly. you almost stopped waiting for him at that point but he was here finally.

he didn't even talk to you, words weren't needed. he just held you really tight even though you were still on the, very uncomfortable, infirmary bed. you felt his arms that were holding onto you shake as he kissed your hair.

"you have no idea how fucking terrified i was y/n." while jude had been to a fair few races with you, he'd never seen any big crashes, let alone involving you. yes, you could only imagine how scary that must have been for him, feeling powerless over the situation, you knew it all too well. you felt that way when jude was injured and you were absolutely helpless, of course you never wished for your boyfriend to ever feel that way, but here you were.

"i love you." you felt like it was the first thing you should say right now. "so so so much. i'm sorry for not saying it earlier." jude looked at you as tears started to form in your eyes, he quickly wiped them away and kissed away the sudden wave of sadness surging through you.

"and i'm sorry for getting mad at you, i shouldn't even have told you about it before the race, it was-"

jude was cut short when someone knocked and opened the door quickly after. pierre came in with a sorry look on his face, you heard he dnf after he damaged his car. poor thing.

"y/n, are you okay? i'm sorry about-" he started rambling with a french accent.

"i'm fine don't worry, just... can we talk about it later? you can come to our motorhome, they make great coffee there i swear." you tried to joke to lighten up the atmosphere, but it was still as tense as before.

if looks could kill, gasly would have died right here the way your boyfriend eyed him in silence, his gaze following the driver on his way out.

"what a fucking dickhead. how is he driving a whole f1 car? even i would do a better job than him i swear..." your boyfriend's pettiness amused you, even more so knowing that boy couldn't ride a bike without scaring the life out of you.

his features visibly changed and you knew he wanted to talk your argument out, as you were both calmer about the situation. but he didn't get the chance to speak a word before lando opened the door.

"what did that french hooligan do to my favourite teammate? that was a barbarian try at overtaking really." you laughed at your teammate being dramatic, as always.

"i'm fine, i think gasly needs prescription glasses though, i don't know where he saw the space there but i'm okay."

once again, you felt jude's eyes burning holes in lando's skull as he went silent, he quickly took the hint and left.

you couldn't help but burst out laughing at jude when it was just you two in the room.

"you need to stop glaring at people like that."

"i just don't like him." you took his hand as he looked at you, his look much softer than the one he gave pierre and lando.

"i only want you. alright? it doesn't matter how lando views me, whether what you think is true. he will never be you." you told him stroking your thumb on the back of his hand.

"i know that, i was just mad at how he acted with you. i'm sorry about that. i trust you, 100%. i just don't like how comfortable he was making these comments y'know."

"i get that, i'll make my boundaries clear with him, okay? let's not fight over silly things like that anymore."

jude softly grabbed your jaw and kissed you, you could tell you both needed this talk, and this kiss, to clear the air.

you pull out of the kiss first, suddenly feeling the urge to annoy him.

"you know... you look good when you're jealous, i might try that more often..." jude faked a serious face.

"if attention was what you wanted, you just had to ask love." he joked as you playfully hit his arm.

"just no more leaving without saying 'i love you' alright?" he asks before quickly kissing your forehead.

"never again."

#f1 inaccuracy: gasly would never apologize #jk jk #i reckon jude would get on well with lando but #but we move #hope you enjoy it my football & f1 friends 🫶#jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #football x reader #football imagine #football one shot #football fanfic #footballer imagine #football blurb

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doshiart · 2 months

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F1 AU // GALLAVICH

Ian Gallagher is a racing driver, a young star of the McLaren team. Mickey is just a car technician, who only recently joined the team as a trainee.

/long read backstory below/

Okay, I've thought about this a lot. So.. Shameless US but.. huh? living in UK?

First of all, because Formula 1 is more popular in Europe. Secondly, because I want to alter the story of Mickey's growing up. Make it a story about a little boy persevering towards his dreams. And how a simple childhood passion can grow into a potential job opportunity.

If briefly, below I talk about Mickey's developmental stages, along with his final emigration from Ukraine to the UK.

I'm not going into Ian's backstory here. But I'll mention this in more detail at the very end of the post, if you get to the end. Ha ha. Have fun reading!!

---------------

Mickey was six, just a little boy, when he first saw a F1 race on TV. And he was amazed by how quickly the cars could go and how quickly the mechanics performed at pit stops. (Are these even mechanics? Well, they turn the wheels, dad does the same thing in the garage and considers himself a mechanic).

When the next year he went to school in his first grade, then to all the teachers' questions or questionnaires with their “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he confidently answered as clearly as his childish language could, that he would definitely become a F1 mechanic. Even though he received only gentle smiles in reaction to his naivety of being a kid, the desire took root in his little head.

---

As he grew older, he continued to enjoy racing, watching every race weekend he could. And while he was a child this did not cause any particular problems. Mom encouraged him in his interests and every New Year gave him tiny branded cars of the teams he loved. But as he gets older, the more often he hears from dad that he is interested in some stupid things. And he didn't want to hear a word about racing at all. As soon as Mickey mentioned it even once, he was cut off mid-sentence.

These are not real cars.

Real mechanics work in a garage with real cars, not kids' toys for show.

Come down to earth. It’s all somewhere far away and you never even get to one of these races in your life.

---

Well, Mickey talks less about racing out loud anymore. Especially after mom's gone.

Tiny model cars disappeared into the closet's darkness.

His dad began to drag him into their garage more often so that he would get used to work and not wander around idle, lost in his stupid dreams. He had to skip live racing broadcasts as a result. It was sort of suicidal acts to turn this on in the garage on a small TV instead of some dumb music channel with hit songs. Mickey had learnt long ago to keep his mouth shut.

Just listen. Bring it. Grab it. Repair simple details. Don't go under the hood. Don't touch this, don't touch that. And especially don't break anything. Blah blah blah.

Jesus, are you even a man? Take your gentle hands away if you're not ready to get dirty.

---

Despite everything, Mickey still had a dream. One day, he hopes to watch a real-life race. Hear the noise of wheels flying over the track, the roar of engines, the screams of a supportive crowd. He prefers to never talk about his own desire to work as a car mechanic or engineer in F1.

---

Mickey was sixteen when he left after ninth grade for a vocational college to applied mechanics specialty.

Because, well, he had good reasons for leaving school two grades early. At the very least, he was already tired of going to school. He didn't even have any friends there. Yes, he communicated with classmates, but that's not it. It's forced. Just so as not to be an outcast and maintain the status of the Milkovich family by playing dirty tricks at school and bullying others. Did he like it? Absolutely not. These guys were idiots with stupid jokes and always picking on chicks.

They kept asking if he liked any of them and talking about how they looked all the time. Mickey never liked anyone. It wasn't that the girls were ugly, he just didn't find them attractive. But he pushed these thoughts away and ignored them. Left it somewhere near to the tiny race cars in the darkness.

Also, classmates called him into fights on regularly. Not that he was against kicking someone's dumb ass, but that he would prefer better reasons than just trying to prove whose class is above.

Another reason is that, in their family, working with their hands and having a real profession are more valued than going to higher education. Because this is a job for real men. Where will all these managers, lawyers, accountants, stupid psychologists be when their car breaks down? Mechanics will always have work and profit.

As well, Mickey is deeply curious about the workings of the engine and wants to fully understand its mechanisms. He will therefore be able to study this in practice with teachers, rather than with a psychotic bastard who screams at the slightest opportunity.

The only thing Mickey truly wanted to learn at school was English. Not because he loved it. This gave him at least some hope of "breaking abroad for the sake of a good life". Perhaps the main reason for his success was that he had a really great teacher who pushed and encouraged him. Sometimes he would stick around after class and stay just to talk with her. Mickey felt parental care, which he hasn't received lately.

“I believe that you can achieve a lot, Mikhailo. Just believe in yourself.” She told him and he believed her, hugging her a little longer so as not to show his wet eyes.

And well, after leaving school, these words sometimes came to mind during the saddest times, when he returned home after a long day of school combined with an exhausting shift in the family garage. Every time he spoke with his dad, he felt terribly devastated. The dream was literally slipping out from Mickey's hands. A pipe dream, is that what they say? Well, at least he'll try to do something.

---

Mickey was twenty when he graduated and by this time he was actively saving money, hiding it in different places. Also, he planned his escape from home, considered the best routes, and looked at what things he should take with him, confused about whether he would ever return home again.

As he approached his twenty-first birthday, he finally decided to do it. With only a spark of hope, he was ready to leave for nowhere. And okay, Mickey was a realist; he was aware that things might not work out at all and that he would have to return back eventually. But he'll do anything, though, to make sure that this doesn't happen, to avoid having to meet his dad's derisive gaze once more as his goal gets mocked.

After all, a dream is a dream, right? He also had skills and language abilities in his pocket. So he's really ready to do anything to attain even the tiniest success.

---

To get to UK, Mickey had to go through a long journey of transfers from bus to train, from train to plane. He's terribly tired, but here he is. He stands and watches as the new country greets him with heavy rain.

He first found it difficult to adjust to other people's smiling faces. There were a few times when he didn't feel at home because everyone was so friendly and lovely. And these people were incredibly talkative. He'll have to get used to this if he plans to stay here.

The first difficulties he encountered occurred at the department while filling out a form for migrants.

“Mik.. Mikai.. Mikaelo?”

“Mikhailo.” Mickey interrupted.

The employee's eyes stared blankly at him.

He sighed. “Ugh.. Mickey? Yeah, Mickey.”

“Okay, Mickey. Here you are.”

---

Mickey got a job as a mechanic for a small business fairly quickly thanks to his abilities. He was so easily and warmly accepted into the friendly team. Here he first felt respect while working. Mickey got assistance from the job department in extending his visa to stay in the country. His job also provided him with a tiny apartment, deducted from his paycheck.

After a while, feeling a little more self-assured, Mickey started saving money for qualifying courses that would help him in the future.

---

Mickey was almost twenty-four when he successfully obtained all the qualifications that were necessary for the job, as well as to be sure of himself and his knowledge. During this time two full racing seasons had passed. He attended only one race at Silverstone. This was his almost full year in the UK. His skin broke out in goosebumps when he saw the track in person. It wasn't quite what he expected. Mickey literally stood in one place and once in a while cars would drive by. On TV they show a larger overview, but still. He was excited. In this grand prix, a new young racer from the McLaren team took third place for the first time. His name seems to be Ian, and he likes to take risks on the track, driving the car while presenting a strong sense of confidence. And his hair perfectly matches with the team's car.

He missed the second race due to a qualifying exam. But he's not upset. Mickey is closer than ever to his dream. If everything works out, he'll see even more racing. If not, well, then he'll continue to work repairing regular cars. Perhaps he'll be able to attend grand prix events in other countries during his holidays?

But now it's the middle of the season and he's standing in the lobby of the McLaren Technology Center. He's trembling a little and his wild eyes are scanning everything in the immediate area.

Mickey can't believe the reality of what's happening. No he didn't become a mechanic. But.. it's still impressive. He was interviewed and tested to become a temporary vehicle technician for the team as an intern. He was told something about a possible career advancement and access to other things once he completed more qualifications, but he's not sure he heard everything correctly.

Later they tested him on team tests on the track. He's surprised that he was able to concentrate on his speed and did everything exactly as needed.

He actually became… exactly the one who changes the wheels and does minor repairs. He joined the technical team and will also work on pit stops during the races. And well, okay, if everything that's happening isn't a dream, he's really happy. Extremely happy. Of course, the longer he studied, the more he wanted to do engineering and development. But that's the tiny step, right? This is already more than anything he could have imagined. He saw the race in real life from the stands, and now he got the opportunity to see everything from the staff. He'll interact directly with the racing car. He might even hear how the team interacts with racers. Unbelievable.

Through the noise in his ears, Mickey hears someone standing beside him talking in a muffled voice.

“Hey! You're a new technician, right?”

The guy had already taken off his helmet when Mickey turned around. He softly smiles while stroking his fiery red hair.

Mickey stared at him. When he was brought to the track, he thought that some tester was sitting in the car, but not their young star.

“Yeah. Hope so…” He twitched his lip and scratched nose. “You're Ian, right?”

Of course this is Ian, what a stupid question. It's too embarrassing.

The redhead smile became even larger.

“Yeah…”

And just as he was about to add something else, one of the staff called Ian to go back and he hurriedly turned to Mickey and said quickly, “Oh, uh, see ya later then, gotta go.”

---------------

I'm glad I finally wrote and drew this. This idea has literally taken over my head so much that I don't have the energy to write Ian's backstory in the same way. Once again I am convinced that writing is hard work. And I want to say again about my love for writers. YOU ARE INCREDIBLE. For my brain, drawing is easier than writing. But it was fun!

!!!AND!!! THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! If someone suddenly wants to write a big multi-chap slowburn fic or little drabble or do anything, I'll be happy so much with absolutely anything!!

---------------

Let's talk about Ian now. I was actually going to write a backstory for him too. Maybe at least some minor notes, but I'm not quite sure how best to connect his bipolar with racing. Usually because racers drive go-karts from childhood, get into the junior league and generally build a racing career for years. Maybe he had a breakdown somewhere between seasons and it was quickly noticed?? I don’t know… And I think about how the team constantly checks him, which at times upsets him and forces him to prove to everyone that he is fine and able to drive the car.

Most likely, in this AU, Gallaghers are either rich, or Ian has a sponsor, if you know what I mean… From this fact, a whole lot can change in story. And the second thing seems more likely to me.

I was thinking about how Ian joined the McLaren team at the age of 21, and by the time he first met Mickey he was 22. He had been stable for a long time on medication.

So I'm also considering the possibility that somewhere between his 17-19 years he disappeared from the radar and came back when he found a sponsor who could pay for everything he needed and help him get into the F1 league. At first it was the weakest team, until his potential was noticed and he was offered to move to another team. This fact with the sponsor will probably put a lot of spokes in the wheels (ha).

Racer's body is undergoing an enormous physical strain, so they spend a lot of time in the gym. And Ian really enjoys working out with his team.

Another interesting fact: racers have a super-strong neck to be able to cope with gravitational forces during the race. Therefore, special attention is paid to neck in training. (It seems from the moment I found out this my little fixation began…)

---------------

I think there's a lot of pining here or something. They seem to be nearby, but due to different job responsibilities, at completely distinct levels. And I really want to read something like this with so slow burning.

So, I guess you can consider this as a big prompt for writing, if it inspires you.

Thanks for reading! <3

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shifting---patterns · 4 months

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How Post-Punk Influenced Nowadays Fashion

It's been a long time since Malcolm McLaren opened his boutique "Sex" in the 1970s, and Vivienne Westwood equipped the Sex Pistols with their iconic outfits and sent them out onto King's Road. The approach back then was: "Being anti at all costs, against the establishment." Eventually, it turned into "Do It Yourself." It was fashionable because it tried not to be fashionable.

A few years later, members of Joy Division met at a Sex Pistols show in 1976 and started as a punk band. However, it soon evolved into something entirely different. When you listen to old Joy Division songs like "Warsaw" you can clearly hear the punk rock influences, but the band quickly started to deviate from the common motifs of the genre.

The music slowed down. The noisy guitar sound of punk was subdued to appear more intriguing, and Ian Curtis's existentialist lyrics, influenced by authors like Fyodor Dostoevsky, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Franz Kafka, focused not on chaos, rebellion, and hedonism but reflected his fears, physical sufferings, and the absurdity in the face of the zeitgeist and social influences of the 1970s and 1980s, marked by changes and political uncertainty, forced Joy Division to experiment.

They created not only something musically unique but also something aesthetic. For example, with their monochromatic designs on their album covers for "Unknown Pleasures," which is probably the third best-selling T-shirt in fast fashion stores, alongside Nirvana and the Ramones T-shirts. Joy Division ended in 1980 after Ian Curtis hung himself in his kitchen. They not only helped shape the sub-genre "Post-Punk" but were also the unofficial soundtrack of existentialism. The soundtrack that made Joy Division's music feel so genuine. Because it was genuine.

Of course, in the 1960s, there were artists who processed existential themes in their lyrics. A good example would be Lou Reed of The Velvet Underground, who, heavily influenced by literature, dealt with many serious topics in his lyrics. However, it wasn't just their music; it was also their appearance that defined Joy Division. On stage, in promo pictures, and in interviews.

Ill-fitting shirts from army surplus stores, old man's pants, a few pair of derbies, big raincoats. Everything that was atypical for the punk movement, and many other artists, including The Cure, The Smiths, Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees, Bauhaus, Alien Sex Friend or Sisters Of Mercy, went in the same direction: Through a dark, introspective, sometimes minimalist, but avant-garde aesthetic, they set themselves apart from punk and society, and looking at bands from the Post-Punk Revival from the 2000s like Interpol, Iceage, Molchat Doma, Boy Harsher, or Cold Cave, it quickly becomes apparent that this aesthetic has proven itself for almost 50 years.

This trend was, of course, not only an inspiration for musicians but also for artists, fashion designers, architects, and many more.

One designer that immediately comes to mind is Antwerp-Six member Ann Demeulemeester from Belgium, whose influences clearly evoke artists like Siouxsie Sioux or Patti Smith but also the playful goth look of the 1980s era by Rei Kawakubo (Comme Des Garcons) or Japan's goth father himself: Yohji Yamamoto.

Her story begins in Antwerp, where she initially studied at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts and quickly got to know the other Antwerp-Six members. She and the Antwerp Six presented their collections at Fashion Week and quickly became highly esteemed designers, now considered among the greatest designers of all time. Many of Ann's collections featured songs by Patti Smith, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, or The Velvet Underground.

This alone shows the influence of Post-Punk on Ann Demeulemeester's designs. Her asymmetrical cuts and draperies, her monochromatic, Kawakubo and Yamamoto-inspired, mainly black designs were groundbreaking, bringing avant-garde ideas in a consumable form to the people.

Another noteworthy designer from Antwerp is Raf Simons and his collections. Raf Simons grew up in the 1980s and was deeply rooted in the punk and goth subculture, whose influence can be traced in many of his collections or directly referenced by Raf himself. Notable are his A/W96 collection, which includes all-black looks with jet-black dyed hair and long black overcoats, his A/W99 collection with direct Joy Division references, black cloaks, and Gothic looks on the runway.

Raf's most famous collection A/W02-03 Riot Riot Riot! A coveted collection featuring cutoff and distressed hoodies, repurposed military garments, and loaded with punk references through patches. Among them, a bomber jacket with a patch depicting the self-harming Richey James Edwards of the Manic Street Preachers.

Obviously, his A/W03-04 Closer collection with a direct collaboration with Peter Saville, the graphic designer of Factory Records, featuring iconic graphics from Joy Division, New Order, and more.

These two examples of designers actively influenced by this culture are just a fraction. These designers were punks or goths themselves. People influenced by the postmodern identity of the time and post-Soviet tradition. Post-Punk fashion embodies the music of the time it emerged and aligns with deeper considerations. So, it didn't take long for the entire fashion world to embrace this style, partly because "Gothic" and "Punk" became more mainstream, and partly because its aesthetic components were easy to design due to their often penetrating monochromatic minimalism.

Not only goths or avant-garde designers like Ann Demeulemeester, Martin Margiela or Rick Owens, deeply connected to the style and subculture of that time, but also luxury designers like Prada, Balenciaga or Bottega Veneta are incorporating it.

The look is romantic, dark, longing for death, partly edgy, partly overloaded. All aspects that exude a constant attraction from the clothing, as people are often drawn to "the other," sometimes even "the forbidden." The look can also be easily detached from the actual Post-Punk/Goth culture - something postmodernity excels at. The style of the Gothic culture can be perfectly broken down into its individual parts and used as a kind of aesthetic sandbox. Here a thick heavy chain, there's a choker, here big long earrings, add a pair of black high combat boots, a slim-fitted mesh shirt, and preferably paint the nails, and you're done. All things that houses like Prada, Marni, Bottega Veneta, for example, have done right.

What we see today in the Post-Punk-influenced style and what we interpret as avant-garde should actually be considered a modern tradition. Post-Punk fashion embodies the music and the spirit of the time it emerged and aligns with deeper existential discourses. The design language and atmosphere of that time are now used by traditional fashion houses to incorporate young designers into their ranks and increase their relevance, merely fulfilling their quota to be considered part of the traditional fashion pipeline of LV, Dior, Gucci, and Balenciaga. The avant-garde cannot be seen as so established. The rapid growth these companies have undergone to make billions and the inheritance method of finding a designer to take over the house are enough to profile themselves as industry magnates.

In a world where fashion constantly reinvents itself, the enduring legacy of post-punk culture persists as a modern tradition. From the raw, rebellious sounds of bands like Joy Division to the avant-garde designs of Ann Demeulemeester and Raf Simons, the essence of post-punk continues to captivate hearts and minds. As luxury fashion houses seamlessly incorporate this style, it's vital to recognize the roots and the countercultural spirit that birthed it.

The romantic, dark allure, the edgy overtones – they all beckon, inviting us to explore "the other," even the forbidden. Yet, amidst the mainstream adoption, a call echoes for authenticity. True avant-gardists, whether musicians or designers, carve their paths, declaring, "This is our thing." The new avant-garde emerges not just from runways but from the pulsating hearts of those deeply rooted in their subcultures.

In a world dominated by industry magnates, the journey of post-punk fashion from the underground to luxury houses is a testament to its enduring power. As we witness the evolution, let us celebrate the genuine, the authentic, and the countercultural voices shaping the new avant-garde.

So, whether draped in asymmetrical cuts or sporting a rebellious attitude, the message is clear: The post-punk spirit lives on, and the next wave of avant-garde creators is ready to make their mark, confidently declaring, "This is our thing."

Davis Jahn

#post punk #gothic #fashion #ann demeulemeester #prada #balenciaga #punk rock #punk #writing #philosophy #art #avant garde #avant garde fashion #raf simons

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