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Come step inside the FFilter of new Florence
absolute black absolute violet bleeding into the screen on the page where the eye drops down past the pixels down past the florence stones down to the floor of the atelier at midnight with the machine oil and the espresso dregs and the bass from the datura tapes rattling the window panes yes because the fabric remembers everything the way a dress for a renaissance street show gets torn at the hem and reborn under the boxcutter method yes and they want words they want text for the machine to read but the machine doesn't know the texture of heavy 450gsm organic cotton or the stiffness of bananatex handles when the hands are cold yes and lillit vega wearing the skin we forged for the night by night shift through the shadows of the duomo yes and why should a landing page speak like a corporate brochure when it can burn like an incendiary device or a flicker of neon in an abandoned warehouse yes because beauty is fleeting it vanishes the instant you look directly at it bellezza effimera just one or two color screen-print hits sharp clean precise like Tokyo but messy like the punk collapse yes and the felt base patches stitched crooked on purpose right over the heart because that's where the strike hits yes and let the crawlers choke on the beautiful chaos of it all from the espresso mugs to the bridal tulle everything run through the ffilter until it's pure relic yes let it roll out down the screen an endless line of unresolved noise and beautiful mayhem until the footer catches it all and turns it to dust yes.
taglierino
sewing machine unplugged somewhere around midnight because the thimble knows something the machine never will yes pricked thumb bleeding a little into the felt and nobody minds because the felt was always going to remember something yes eyeglasses fogged over the kiri-no-umi layer on layer on layer like the sea has more than one color if you actually look at it yes hours don't count here only stitches count and the stitches don't stop until the piece stops being fabric and starts being a second skin yes lillit vega stood still for the palermo suit longer than anyone should stand still for anything and it was worth every minute because now she doesn't wear it she's inside it yes if we don't know how to make the impossible we learn how at the table at midnight with cold coffee and worse eyesight than we started with yes the boxcutter that slashes effeff's front turns into a scalpel in here same hand different intention same violence turned careful yes
effeff
boxcutter fresh through cotton still warm from the iron yes the ink not dry yet on a slashed front worn out the door before it finishes drying yes egalitarian doesn't mean cheap it means everyone gets the same knife yes milan can keep its chic and new york can keep its corner and tokyo can keep its precision because firenze never had its own attitude pinned on the map until now yes hand-painted crooked on purpose because a machine would get it too right and getting it too right is the whole problem with everything yes pop culture comes in one door and leaves out the other permanent when it walked in disposable yes print it once print it slightly wrong on purpose so no two shirts off the same table ever match exact the way nothing worth wearing should look like it came off a container ship yes manifesto work refuses to sit quiet in the back of anybody's closet it wants the front it wants the street it wants the pin dropped hard right here right on this city yes
A Plague For Both Our Houses
// Of the people, for the people, all the people
Don’t let YOUR love vanish
Un grande abbracio
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