“How a man named Gayel Philwaki separates fact from fiction” is the episodic tale of a man who one day finds himself in a room he has never been in before, sitting opposite a man he has never met. Handed over a file labeled "Guy Vernes", Gayel is given the strange task of separating fact from fiction. Intrigued and curious, Gayel starts going through the file's documents, using his ability as a lawyer to fulfill the task. In each episode, Gayel starts by writing facts followed after by a related fictional story. This is another of his writings."

If we look at our human history in terms of aesthetics, we cannot but acknowledge the mind-blowing catalogue of beauty that mortal hands have created in all its different forms and variety. From music to literature and from cave paintings to typography, we have triggered our senses over the centuries with exceptional taste. As a tribute to the arts, the current collection is a reference to the expression of human creative skill and in particular to the biggest art form of our times: music.

The current collection is a display of six individual designs reintroducing the characteristic work of Guy Vernes in five tees and a polo shirt. A showdown in color and consistency, the series initiate a new artistic era for the brand.

The comeback of the Guy Vernes Classic, the brand's number one selling tee, ascertains its place as a small-size icon for a dedicated fan base with the addition of two new colors (royal blue and deep red) on a medium tailored 180 grs tee.

Within the same line is the introduction of the Guy Vernes Polo shirt. The iconic stitch on the left shoulder adds a vigorous personality to a subtle and simple model, making it an incredibly accessible piece. And with a beautiful fitted cut on 100% combed cotton – double piqué, ribbed armbands and a two-button placket, the Polo is an item bound to be a wardrobe favorite.

MicAssassins is the reinvention of an old design originally produced in very select numbers. Due to the popularity of the concept, MicAssassins is reinvigorated in an all-new original piece, silkscreen printed on a 100% cotton single jersey tee. The new, six-color design is inspired by the power of verbal expression; the vocalist's ability to use his or her words as a weapon.

Boombox is a contemporary interpretation of the ancient Japanese woodblock print genre of “ukiyo-e”. Particularly inspired by the magnificent anatomical forms in the works of master Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Boombox is a tribute to the old Japanese art form. The red inks on the white and heather background give the tee an air of flamboyance which is further enriched by the brand’s woven label stitched on the composition.

Writers, inspired by the unlimited capabilities of the pen, is an homage to writers, poets and overall words-jugglers. Originally carrying the project name “mustache”, Writers is the first design to introduce a Guy Vernes character with facial hair. Printed on a medium fit tailored tee with double stitch, Writers is sure to match the man with or without mustache.

Created within the luminous halls of the Royal Academy of Arts in London, the Tengu design, like Boombox, is a contemporary portrayal of ukiyo-e, mixing Japanese folklore with modern elements. The depiction of the Tengu (celestial creature in Japanese fancy and imagination) coming down the heavens carrying an active speaker is a symbol for the appreciation of music.

As you might know by now, my name is Gayel Philwaki. Every smart ass who asks me what kind of name that is, I reply that it simply is mine and I quickly follow by a yomama joke out of my never-ending repertoire of motherly witticism.

“Yo mama’s so fat, she went to the movies and sat next to everyone.”

I grew up with a group of friends who, over the years, chose to affiliate with the fine arts becoming poets, musicians, painters and writers. We were a group with a cherished friendship who stood by each other, supported each other’s work and who spent evenings discussing aesthetics over a Street Fighter bash in the living room. We were boys of our times, dictated by what marked the era, yet occasionally we felt misplaced, cultured in a civilization of barbarians. Nonetheless, we always thought we were just like any other kids; never snobby and invariably humble.

My father, a great man by virtue and a theater director by profession, always reminded me of the fact that art doesn’t pay. It was his way of telling me to really consider my choice should I ever choose for the workshop instead of the desk. My friends, in their post-adolescence, witnessed the practical applicability of my father’s words. Confronted by the financial hardships of artistry, they spent their days working for tap water and instant noodles.

What my friends quickly realized however was that paying their bills with their work had a better chance of being achieved in unison. Soon after they formed a collective, bundling their skills and network under one single name.

As much as I loved beauty and the subtlety and sophistication of the creative skill, I on the other hand didn’t enroll in art school but traded the brush and the pen for the rigidity of legislature and jurisprudence: I went to law school. During our college years, as my friends paid their tuition with published stories and gallery expositions, I was spending my days going through drafts and directives over a cheap cup of coffee in the library. In the evenings, we met almost on a daily basis in what we called “The Brazilian”: a café where cigarette smoke danced on Bebop between young intellectuals, academics and journalists. While my friends proudly boasted about their work, I drank my beer reminiscing of case law and European regulations. As our college years passed by, it appeared that I was becoming the misfit of the group…until post-graduation.

“Yo mama’s so ugly, she made an onion cry.”

As the collective started handling its work on a professional basis, gaining slight fame and reputation, unexpected problems occurred more frequently which were beyond my friends’ understanding. Issues of neighboring rights, copy, distribution rights and liabilities under contract threatened to destroy their work and spirit. In an artist’s mind, the legal gibberish is a horrifying tail to his work; one he does not want to care about at all. Hence, when I graduated from law school, the misfit became the perfect fit: I joined my friends as their lawyer. Whatever they created, I made it fit for a system built on rules and economic fundamentals. In other words, I became the mother clueless kids in trouble came running to.

“Yo mama’s like a hardware store: only ten cents a screw.”

Hence started a life of unpredictability and freedom, which is the life lived through the passion for the immaterial. You are about to read our stories; a collection of our pleasures and pains through a shared momentum; an undefined goal on the beautiful and humble side of life.

Signed: Gayel Philwaki