Get wavy. Angelica root creeps softly, with buchu mixed in for strength: beneath the overpass, weed and flower overgrow and intermingle, resilient, transcontinental settlers crop dusted with aerosol. Mandarin spikes like the sun, a silent explosion surfacing at a near constant but occasionally unpredictable rhythm, as clouds pass momentarily over. In seconds of cool, blue chamomile blooms: a bloodless wonder this flower runs on medicine–the herbal kind, don’t get any big ideas, kids!–which slips and slides across skin and into bodies like sky high nebulas. Styrax is shriek of gold on: sun bleached hair & sun burnt skin, sun-kissed lips and noses meeting, rubbing, notching beneath hoodies, lank teenage locks, fingers loosening loosies into other ciphers. There is a way in which atypical smells issue from transforming bodies, so that (unbeknownst to the owner) the limbs emit a kind of history: patchouli for the muddy, music drugged, vetivered, involuntary rebels of the earth. Gosha is a silent film of youth, over before you’ve mastered it, and eternally haunting. One quick trick in the air, and we’re spun.
Gosha is packaged in an intensely red box. The classic rounded bottle is an homage to historic Russian perfumes. The wooden cap inspired by the raw materials of skateboards.
Gosha Rubchinskiy is a fashion designer, photographer and ﬁlm maker. Initially taking pictures of his friends and assisting other fashion designers, he decided to create his own brand in order to develop his ideal post-Soviet youngster style. Everything Gosha does is about multimedia. He designs his collections, photographs them, casts models, produces his lookbooks and seasonal fanzines. It’s his way of creating his own world and building his ideology as a whole.