Sandro Gaeta SS16

Sandro Gaeta SS16

FashionGiu 05 20160 Comment

sandrogaeta_ss16lb011 sandrogaeta_ss16lb022 sandrogaeta_ss16lb031 sandrogaeta_ss16lb04 sandrogaeta_ss16lb052 sandrogaeta_ss16lb071 sandrogaeta_ss16lb062 sandrogaeta_ss16lb091 sandrogaeta_ss16lb081 sandrogaeta_ss16lb101 sandrogaeta_ss16lb112 sandrogaeta_ss16lb121 sandrogaeta_ss16lb141 sandrogaeta_ss16lb131 sandrogaeta_ss16lb161 sandrogaeta_ss16lb15-2 sandrogaeta_ss16lb221 sandrogaeta_ss16lb231 sandrogaeta_ss16lb241 sandrogaeta_ss16lb201 sandrogaeta_ss16lb191 sandrogaeta_ss16lb181 sandrogaeta_ss16lb251I cannot sleep tonight; I did not watch the stars.

You can hear the cicadas still talking far away and I am standing still under the sun. All are asleep aside from the artisans; the smell of pastries follows through behind the few fishermen who come by boats from the small harbor.

The island is white, almost innocent.

The sun starts to shine on the plaster of walls, it is reflecting shadows that show you the exact time, it is almost morning. A woman is embroidering a sunrise, abstract. I clearly remember that pattern on my bed sheets, black shapes on a white background. The same geometric shapes are now drawn on shirt sleeves and pockets interrupting the background. Micro perforated cottons take on the maps I draw. Safe paths where to play blindman’s bluff; the square is protection, roof and core. It means stability, space, and time.

I am thirsty, the feel of salt on the skin, illustrated soft cotton keeps company. I remember his big shirts and its pattern looks bigger. Classic pattern of ties became even larger. Collars are smoothened by waves, the shirts are getting longer to become sometimes clothes.

There are curtains made by nets through the narrow streets of the village. At touch they are jacquard. Mélange lightweight cotton threads plot fast as sea foam to the passage of a boat. Color balance, harsh frames. A color palette muted, saturated colors that shine at midday, focus. Sky blue, pale pink, red float, orange, cyan.

A new Rebus welcomes us into a house, a surreal tale of a wave that becomes a pink cloud into a piece of circumscribed sky, a moth waits for the night. A picture of a Magritte, that half-open door facing the sky. Then Miró and its colors, it’s all so strange.

A staircase leads to the sea, multicolor sea grass takes root in the sand, I would be like a seaweed.

The scarf, accessory must-have of the collection, is the synthesis of this story.
Graphics into get lost, interpreting, finding themselves, to feel at home.