Culture
How a jacket becomes a symbol in a life defined by both heartbreak and hope, through a deeply personal look at transience and the enduring search for love and belonging.
Updated 10:52 pm EDT, July 22, 2025
Published 10:21 pm EDT, July 22, 2025
Fashion Designer: Paloma Balvin
Loneliness and Connection
I was sitting in the slightly damp purple twilight on a bittersweet summer night. In the half-light, I was unconsciously listening to a sweet, emotive ballad which triggered memories of my past, of what might have been, and what was.
I jerked upright in a sweat when I horrifically realized that my closest relationship in the past 15 years was with this gorgeous, luscious Gucci jacket from the Russian collection of Frida Giannini. Was that my life? Wasn’t everything I dreamed of or achieved more than this?
This may shock you, but I am gay. Yes, yes, perhaps the obsession with fashion, Madonna, and younger men may have been a slight hint. But I am only one fragment of gay culture. You must realize, if nothing else, that there are so many wonderful, complex gay people who don’t fit any yawn-inducing stereotype.
I know a married male couple with two gorgeous children, and their love for each other and their children causes me to hide behind curtains and emote. I know of gay people who still fight for acceptance in fierce determination and courage. We are not all leering fiends looking for the next sexual fix. Nonetheless, we as a cultural group grapple with transience more than others.
In the ebony starry midnight, we still meet up in hope, yearning for love or at least a connection that is more than momentary. Historical pressures have forced gays to hide their desires and relationships in the ombre shadows until only recently. And even now, I wouldn’t be super handsy in one of our more isolated rural communities. I don’t have a death wish.
That song in the twilight made me think of loneliness. Yes, loneliness can be a common and significant experience for gay people. Although it’s not necessarily a reflection of our sexual orientation, we face unique challenges related to social acceptance, family relationships, and finding a community that will love us without reservation or doubt.
There is a recurring, tragicomical complaint amongst gays. Why don’t heterosexuals come out to their families, too? The hideous process of coming to terms with our sexual orientation is isolating. It’s different for every individual, and it’s deeply personal.
I dare any gay person to claim there wasn’t a moment of doubt about facing negative reactions from family or friends as they were contemplating the public announcement of their queerness.
And when the fear-inducing process of coming out is over? Then what? The gay community is particularly vicious with itself. I am positive there are kind, noble queer people who love and accept fellow gays of every gender, hue, size, and age. If someone knows of such a person, my email is available via the magazine.
Many of us move too quickly through life, looking for acceptance, that we ignore our fellow travelers. It’s that yearning that causes us to bustle and search like hungry, restless sharks through the deep cerulean sea.
Finding romantic partners in such an environment is a nerve-wracking foundational emotion for gays. We pressure ourselves to find a perfect partner, which not only exacerbates the feelings of loneliness but, for many of us, it fuels the emotional transience that haunts us.
I once knew an outgoing tennis pro who, over nine years, grew from an acquaintance to a friend, to an illicit love, to a boyfriend, and ultimately to a broken heart. I still unhealthy look back and dream of what could have been. I try to convince myself that I don’t really think of him at all. That I don’t wonder what they are up to or in whose arms they wake up in.
Thinking of what could have been is tragic and harmful. But try to stop me. It’s a part of being human. Wondering about “a life or road never taken” is practically a religious commandment.
Transience is like a white sparkling drug that enfolds us and calls us to run away and forget current and past pain. It jolts us to search for the new. For the hope that lies down the shining road hidden by the glamor of the sun.
However, instead, we need to slow down and accept the reasons and experiences that have led us down our present path. More importantly, we need to accept our decisions as fulfilled. However, there is a painful sweetness to pricking our memories and dreaming of what could have been. There is danger in that act.
For a time at the turn of the last century, I yearned and fulfilled my every sensual dream. I was in London as a legal alien, and like a variegated hummingbird, I buzzed and flew through the city, tasting all of the nectar and dew that was on offer. It was liberating and gorgeous, and I absolutely do not regret it.
But those decisions back then had consequences. And those consequences continue to reverberate to this day in my ability to experience intimacy and love. Okay, perhaps I did regret some of the foolishness, but that was then. I live in the present, and I try, sometimes pathetically, to accept and appreciate the present.
Perhaps that is why I am so drawn to fashion. Like the wicked witch of the west, I adore bright shiny things, but unlike my heroine, I can accept when the time for those objects is past. Many people consider fashion and clothes to be ephemeral and superficial. Perhaps.
But they represent our culture through time and tide. For many, fashion is an art form that represents a meaningful expression of their personal emotions and feelings. I think about the designers who sweat like overworked farm animals and, for a brief, glowing moment, are loved and lauded. But it rarely lasts.
For every cold, skeletal Karl Lagerfeld or Anna Wintour who stays for decades, there are millions who don’t get a chance to keep on top of the mountain for more than a momentary glimpse of nirvana.
Fashion is constantly changing and evolving. Trends come and go, and what is considered stylish at one point may be outdated soon after. This dynamic nature is inherent to the fashion industry, where new designs and styles emerge regularly. And as difficult as it is to accept, that is healthy.
I was a day student at a provincial boarding school, and to this day, people tease me that they can see in the grainy, gray pictures of my youth the same clothes that I wear today. Okay. That is almost a lie.
Yes, I still wear madras slacks and brightly colored button-down shirts in every flowery pastel hue. But they were created last year, not last century. Silhouettes and designers change the look and feel of clothes, even if the trend remains. Fashion is refreshing, and it breathes a youthful air into our lives.
I recently saw a movie called “Los Amantes Astronautas”. It was a quiet love story between a young gay man with an exuberant smile, who perhaps foolishly falls in love with a beautiful, seemingly heterosexual friend from his youth. They flirted and amused themselves with silly games to make each other laugh and feel pleasure, all the while knowing that they were playing with fire.
They thought their games were transient, a summer infatuation that would lead nowhere. But to their surprise, others noticed and encouraged their attraction. That impermanence transitioned into deep emotions, and instead of running away, in that film, they stayed and walked together.
Could that have been me with my athlete love? Perhaps. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I appreciate those nine years, as ridiculous and comical as they may have been. And I am not dead yet. Maybe there is someone for me down the path. That’s what’s beautiful about hope and the ability to reject transience when it’s necessary. One never knows.
So what if I still nurture my luscious black jacket from the days of Frida? So what if my jacket represents a relationship longer than I’ve ever been able to sustain with a human? I still get compliments.
Do you?
Recovering from an obsession with Italian-designed menswear, Alfonso decided to take a deeper look into women’s fashion to see how our relationship among clothing, society, and business has changed. Educated as an economist with an MBA, he travels between Chicago, Miami, and Mexico on a search to see what happens next to fashion.
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