Here’s a little essay I wrote about Gucci Décor in 2021 that never made it to print. It may read a little dated but it sums up my thoughts on Alessandro Michele’s Gucci quite nicely.
How does a $980 wool cushion embroidered with a turquoise cat and varsity-esque patches spelling out “GUCCI ORGASMIQUE” speak to our time? According to a recent press release from Gucci Décor, their latest collection of luxury home goods appeals to our collective desire for romance and whimsy. But its romance has an edge. After all, the line's picturesque porcelain plates, monogrammed ottomans, and floral wallpaper look like they came straight out of The White Lotus. As attractive as the confusing mish-mash of animal motifs, nonsensical texts, and extravagant materials is, it appears to be out of touch with the current social landscape—unless you get Gucci.
Launched in 2017, just two years after Roman-born Alessandro Michele took over as creative director of the house, Gucci Décor fits squarely within the brand’s chaotic sensibilities. As with Michele’s eclectic runway collections that reference everything from the Victorian era to Ziggy Stardust, the irreverent designer’s home goods could easily be mistaken for vintage—if only Mario Buatta had collaborated with Ed Hardy during the 19th century. Michele’s Gucci imbues the curiosity of antiquarian shops, intellectualizing both clothing and décor with a plethora of references to the house’s previous collections, while simultaneously evoking the accessible aesthetic of an Italian grandmother’s living room. This marriage of intellect and ostentation is a rare pairing that speaks both to the balding men with hot young wives I saw perusing the home décor in Gucci’s Soho store, and people like me, who tend to nerd out over the history of storied brands. But it doesn’t matter whether you get the references to the Diana handbag on Gucci’s rendition of the Charivari chair (it combines the house’s infamous bamboo motif with the seating found at elitist events like fashion shows and the Oscars). In fact, it’s this balance between intellectualism and tacky opulence that makes the house of Gucci so successful. “In the end you need to sell,” Alessandro Michele told Vogue in 2019, “but it’s like a big fresco—and the fresco speaks to everybody.”
Today, home décor collections from fashion designers are almost as common as cosmetic lines, and just as important to brand building. Yet unlike, for example, Armani Casa’s smooth greige transition between the runway and the home, Gucci Décor feels more like a random selection of holiday ornaments. At the Gucci store in New York’s Soho, a make-shift movie theater and bookstore create a spectacle not unlike that found at Urban Outfitters. Only here, luxurious scented candles housed in Richard Ginori porcelain are scattered amongst art books and expensive leather goods—mirroring both Gucci’s tumultuous legacy and the aesthetic of the current neo-Romantic headquarters in Rome. And that’s exactly the point. In small doses, Gucci Décor can signal tasteful prosperity, as it does at Gucci HQ, or for less well-off consumers who are willing to put a $300 scented candle on their credit cards. But it can also contribute to the tacky, over-the-top aesthetic favored by the nouveau riche and old money elites who aren’t concerned with hyper-analyzing the meaning behind their aesthetic decisions—an extravagance that can be off-putting or refreshing, depending on whether you like the uber rich to be conscious about their wealth.
Since the popularization of the horse-bit loafer in the 1960s, Gucci has become ubiquitous. Known then for its craft, as well as the affluent and tempestuous lifestyle of the braggadocious Gucci family, the house has suffered through boom and bust cycles. Yet the timeless double G monogram and iconic red and green striped band continue to symbolize opulence, even when it’s bootleg. Search #guccidecor on TikTok and you’ll find endless DIY tutorials for creating your own “Gucci” coffee table trays, as well as videos advertising party planners who throw Gucci-themed sweet sixteens complete with red and green striped cupcakes and chair sashes reminiscent of pizza parlor awnings. Here, Gucci exists beyond its luxury boutiques and $5,500 chairs. But what the DIY trays on TikTok and the floral serving platters sold in Soho have in common is the implication of luxurious living—regardless of whether they’re crafted from plastic or porcelain.
What does this mean for Gucci Décor? The implied extravagance of the house’s logo can easily be interpreted as the detritus of late capitalism, wherein both rich and poor scramble to collect symbols of economic success at the expense of meaning and “good taste.” This is particularly true when it comes to how we decorate our homes in the age of social media, where brands like Gucci maximize their appeal thanks to their legibility on a small screen and their ability to spark intrigue and outrage with ostentatious items like the “GUCCI ORGASMIQUE” pillow (ditto marketing stunts like when they had models carry replicas of their own heads down the runway Fall Winter 2018).
But Gucci’s symbolic extravagance can also be interpreted in a different way. When the world has become so seemingly devoid of meaning thanks to our click-centric culture, opulence can offer a reprieve. Gucci begs us to dismiss pressures to design tasteful interiors and consume inconspicuously, and instead asks us to embrace colors and textures and nature, to have fun with our home décor. And though this optimism may border on nihilism for some (let them eat Gucci cupcakes!), the brand’s cultural foothold on TikTok and beyond suggests something else: that Gucci Décor is for everyone, as long as you love extravagance.
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