Bloomin’ Fabulous Runway Series – Part 3
We recently hosted our second instalment of Bloomin’ Fabulous at the Bicentennial Conservatory in Adelaide Botanic Garden. If you missed out on this exploration at the intersection of queer fashion and all things botanical, you’re in luck. We’re revisiting the runway with each instalment including three different makers with their respective artist statement.
Riss
Bearded Iris, U=U cloak, hat and bag.
This purple cloak, inspired by the Bearded Iris and symbolizing U=U (Undetectable = Untransmittable), reflects both pride and hope for PLHIV.
Made from deconstructed, reconstructed, and thrifted materials, it embodies resilience and the potential for new beginnings.
As a positive artist, I proudly share over 32 years within the vibrant PLHIV Community Family.
Revisiting my family’s Adelaide roots, the cloak offers comfort against inherited stigma, while my personal ‘stigmata’ is embodied in a hat that carries the weight of sticky societal prejudices.
A bag adorned with community messages of U=U conveys shared words of resilience, growth, and a bright future.
JayCee
Autumn, bucket coat and signature wrap pants
I’m JayCee, a researcher by day and a designer on weekends. My work draws inspiration from the colours of autumn, a season where nature slows down, yet remains vibrant and full of life with an array of rich hues.
My character embodies an urban hunter-gatherer, exploring the city landscape in a bucket coat and wrap pants (aka JayCee Pants) designed for freedom of movement and protection from the elements. I am proud to call Australia my new home and I honour the Indigenous Australian culture by incorporating inspiration from Indigenous dot painting into both designs. Thank you.
Michael Thompson
Black Mamba Petunia, black velvet corset belt and padded bustle
It had to be black, a google search for gothic flowers produced the image, it looked velvety and instantly my decision was made.
Black clothing connects me to a gothic aesthetic which in turn connects me to the queer culture I identify with. It allows me to seek guidance from my queer ancestors and grounds my practice through ritual, as I dress my body and project intention.
The flower itself is a dichotomy of an evil writhing serpentine power, urged forth under the black magical directives of centuries of Voudon practice and benign femininity, a fragile black flower in your grandmother’s cottage garden.
That’s how my creative mind inspired me to tackle a velvet costume worthy of a night out.
