Demna's Gucci is bringing sexy back ... What has politics to do with it?

Giulia Bottalico
3 days ago
6 min read

Only five days ago (Dec 4, 2025), Gucci's creative director Demna (Gvasalia) surprised all fashion enthusiasts with his first pre-collection, anticipating (or, perhaps, giving us a preview of) the eagerly awaited fashion show that will be held in Milan in February of next year.

Apparently, as of right now the “GG” stands for Generation Gucci - as Demna has entitled this new collection (shot by Gvasalia himself).

The lookbook is a reinterpretation of the brand’s archive - from the 70s to the early 2000; a combination of all the most iconic pieces of the Maison that Demna managed (and reimagined) to put together in one show, still making everything look cohesive: different styles were thus combined into a single narrative that talks much about Gucci’s history as it does about Demna’s - making the pairing (brand + fashion designer / creative director) look like a match made in heaven.

It is evident, though, that the main influence is Tom Ford’s. Tailleurs with tight pencil skirts, leggings and high slits were dusted off and made the protagonists of the runway.

Sexy and sexyness are apparently back after a long period of trad-wife style and minimalism hovering not only Gucci (Sabato de Sarno’s version, at least) but the whole Fashion Industry.

Demna's newest and sexiest collection is just a symptom of the political shift that has been in the air and that has been due for quite a long time.

There's always been an unbreakable fil rouge between fashion and politics, whether one believes it or not. According to Maria Cristina Marchetti, "power has always felt the need to represent itself outwardedly, both to legitimize itself and to self-celebrate in the eyes of its subjects", citing examples such as buildings, collective rituals, and also elements like the flag and the national anthem. These are all symbols traditionally associated with politics, long aknowledged in scholarly literature - unlike fashion, which for years was underestimated as a phenomenon disconnected from rationality, and therefore seen as having "little in common with a dimension of human action such as power" (ivi).

This assertion, however, could not be further from reality: "Legitimization processes in modern democracies, although they appeal to rational-legal components, do not fail to draw on a symbolic dimension that is in turn not immune to emotional and affective components. […] In political science, the symbolic dimension is in fact linked to the influence of emotional and affective spheres on political action" (Marchetti 2016).

This contradicts the supposed rationality of the *homo politicus* who, like the *homo economicus*, is believed to be consistently coherent and rational - but above all, fails to take into account “culture and everything that makes a human being fully human".

Thus, contrary to what has been claimed, fashion in politics “has played a fundamental role by virtue of its power to rapidly register changes and to create identity, a sense of belonging to a group, and differentiation from others” (ib.).

The one politician (if we may call her that) who marked a turning point in the symbolic representation of her status - specifically, power - was Elizabeth I Tudor, who skillfully exploited such symbolism and, more broadly, the symbolic meaning of the body. She “embodied one of the most established symbolic representations of power, which on the one hand inherited the Spanish tradition and on the other anticipated Louis XIV” (Marchetti 2020), serving as the living image of “the English monarchy: Protestant and free from ties to foreign powers” (ibid.).

This was already evident on the day of her coronation: “a starched ruff framed her face, restricting head movement; she wore a wig adorned with pearls; the gown was brocade, itself embroidered with pearls and precious stones” (p. 14), giving her “a hieratic, solemn image that had in fact abandoned human traits to ascend to an abstract dimension” (ib.).

In the same way, once he had obtained the height of his power (marked by the moment of coronation), Louis XIV changed his wardrobe, drawing inspiration from English fashion and giving it greater formality: “the justaucorps extended down to the knees and was worn over a wide waistcoat, while the trousers were fitted at the knee”. In particular, the coronation outfit “was a true theatrical costume, evoking elements of the past […] and exalting the superhuman nature of the sovereign; it was on this occasion […] that the monarch wore the symbols of power—the crown, the sceptre, and the mantle—which simultaneously signaled the divine origin of his authority” (ib.).

A completely different story is the fashion that emerged starting on July 14, 1789, the day of the Storming of the Bastille—symbol of the beginning of the French Revolution and, thus, of the long-awaited conquest of freedom by the French people, who had suffered under the injustices of the Ancien Régime.

The political subject of the revolutionary decade, from the fall of the Bastille to Napoleon Bonaparte’s coup d’état on 18 Brumaire, Year VIII (November 9, 1799), was a new rising social class: the bourgeoisie. This class, “aware of the need to legitimize its position in society [and] unable to draw upon the symbolic apparatus developed over centuries by the aristocracy, rooted in tradition, prestige, and noble lineage” (Marchetti 2020), had to turn to fashion.

Revolutionary fashion was inspired by Anglo-Saxon, and especially American, models and became an expression of liberty: “In 1776, Benjamin Franklin arrived in Paris as a representative of the United States and brought with him the democratic fashion from across the ocean, to the extent that Franklin-style clothing […] became a symbol of freedom” (ib.).

“The link between fashion and the French Revolution is so close that it would be impossible to reconstruct the phases and key events of the period without considering the styles that defined them” (ivi). Indeed, Marchetti later argues that “it was, in fact, one of the most significant moments of symbolic representation of power, enacted to legitimize the new social order” (ib.).

The only colors permitted were those of the new flag—the famous tricolor (blue, white, and red)—which we all recognize as the one waved by Marianne in Liberty Leading the People (1830) by Eugène Delacroix.

Any ostentation of luxury was forbidden, yet at the same time, clothing became adorned with numerous accessories that necessarily carried symbols of the Revolution: buttons, buckles, jewelry, and fans now more than ever served as political emblems.

The change in clothing, however, became more evident in the phase following the insurrection of the Commune and the subsequent proclamation of the Republic on September 22, 1792. With the establishment of the National Council on October 29, 1793 (8 Brumaire, Year II), a “total freedom of dress” was decreed (ivi), and with the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen—which recognized women as free and equal to men—there was a shift “from the universalization of rights […] to the universalization of fashion” (ib.).

For the first time, the people—particularly the upper class—were free to express dissent through clothing. This is seen in the case of women of the high nobility, whose outfits “took on strongly symbolic tones: a red ribbon around the neck symbolizing the guillotine, dresses and shoes trimmed in black as a sign of mourning, white gloves in memory of the victims, whom they deemed innocent” (Motta 2016).

There is, therefore, a strong link between democracy as a form of government and fashion (especially the kind of free fashion we know today). Maria Cristina Marchetti, in fact, concludes the third chapter of the book referenced here with a quote by Herbert Spencer, who draws a parallel between fashion and democracy, which: "coexist in a compromise between governmental coercion and individual liberty. […] This ever-shifting compromise between restriction and freedom tends toward the expansion of liberty. Indeed, as average governmental control over individual actions decreases, so too does the rigidity of fashion" (Marchetti 2020).

So, what is happening today that is bringing the sexy aesthetic of the 2000s back?

Sexy is back not because of Gvasalia, but because of the GenZs and the political shift they're bringing along now that all of them have officially entered society but, most importantly, have reached the legal age thus obtaining the right to vote.

After a long period of conservatism brought to us by the GenXs and - partially - by the Millennials (which led to the second Trump Administration and, in general, to more and more countries shifting towards the right wing), GenZs are moving the needle to the Left.

Zohran Mamdani's victory at the 2025 New York mayoral elections, along with all the victories gained with the governator races, is the perfect example of the political switch that has just begun and that soon - hopefully - will sweep us away.

A more democratic government - a leftist government - will, consequently and inevitably, bring along a more democratic fashion; a colorful one, a sexy one, a free one just like what happened with the French Commune or - more recently (kind of) with the Student Movement and Revolution of 1968.

Hemlines - or in Gucci's case slits - will get higher and higher, skinny jeans and tight skirts will make their return, bold colours will slowly make their eay back into our wardrobes.

In short, sexy is back

Goodbye trad-wives, welcome back hotties!

(and thank you GenZ!)