There is a thought that increasingly accompanies me: the world of fashion, with all its vast network of production and craftsmanship—from big names to small tailoring masters—is a cultural treasure we cannot afford to lose. Its disappearance would be a huge loss, not only in terms of aesthetics but also identity.
Perhaps it is no coincidence that more and more young Japanese, like many from other Asian cultures, have taken on the virtuous habit of coming to Italy to learn the old trades: those of shoemakers, tailors, artisans. They take with them fragments of knowledge that tell the story of who we are. It is as if, from afar, they better understand what we are at risk of forgetting.
A little-known story comes to mind: when Daniel Day-Lewis became a shoemaker in Florence. The American actor, after a stressful period, felt the need to reconnect with himself. During a trip, he bought a pair of Stefano Bemer shoes and was so struck by them that he asked to be taken on as an apprentice. He stayed for a while to learn.
I recently spoke about the issue of generational turnover in fashion with Tito Allegretto, a master I have written about many times, especially during Pitti Uomo, where his consistent and refined vision has always stood out as a discreet beacon in the turbulent sea of contemporary fashion.
But today, he is not the protagonist of this story. It is his daughter, Giulia, who shared how she determinedly decided to work alongside her father and, after learning the trade, pursue his path. And it is in this transition—and in many others I’ve recently encountered, from young people choosing to continue their fathers’ professions—that perhaps a glimmer of hope for the future of generational change in fashion begins to shine through.
Giulia’s Story Fashion, to me, is not just a profession. It is a world made of emotions, identity, and truth. It is the most powerful way I know to tell my story.
I grew up surrounded by sketches, fabrics, buttons, accessories, and silent love. While the world was rushing by, I was drawing. Drawing to feel alive, to say “I’m here,” even when I had lost too much to find the words.
I lost my mother when I was a child and have since learned to live with a void that can never be filled. But I was also lucky: my father. An artist, a creative, and above all my greatest ally. He never stopped believing in me, even when I couldn’t believe in myself.
This is how my desire was born to turn pain into creative strength and elegance, absence into creation. As a child, I would take scraps of fabric and make my own designs.
They were imaginary garments, sewn for a world where I could feel appreciated. Now, I want to give that power to others through what I create. I want those who wear my clothes to feel recognized, strong, capable of turning a wound into a work of art.
After school, I started working in a store specializing in shirts and ready-to-wear jackets. That’s where I touched the concreteness of life. Structure, fabrics, details—each element had a voice of its own.
That first experience was my first step toward independence. Not because my father couldn’t help me—he certainly could—but because I wanted to make it on my own. I wanted him to look at me with pride, not just affection. And that’s when I started to recognize my own worth.
Every collection I design is born from a real emotion. Anger, loneliness, hope: it all goes first on paper, then on fabric. That emotion doesn’t disappear; it changes shape. And if it becomes beauty, then it has meaning.
I don’t want to just create garments: I want to create experiences. I want those who wear them to feel that it’s not just a piece of clothing but the result of a carefully thought-out creative experience.
A Father as Root My relationship with my father is everything. He is not just a parent, not just a mentor: he is my root. He believed in me when I couldn’t. He taught me that the soul is in the details, that a garment is not sewn with needle and thread alone but also with heart and memory. In each of my creations, there is something of him. And something of her, my mother. We are two, but in every gesture, there are three of us.
The Dream that Guides Me One day, I dream of opening my own fashion house. A place that carries my father’s name, but that also tells of my rebirth. Every garment will be a true story. Not just aesthetic, but emotional. I want my fashion to embrace, speak, protect. To leave a mark.
My First Mini Collection My first creation was born like this. From the desire to do everything with my own hands, from the first sketch to the final seam. From the shirt to the jacket, from the button to the belt: I chose every detail with care, guided only by what I felt. It is a small universe in which I poured my entire self: my story, my vision, my voice. And I hope that whoever experiences it can feel all of this. I will not showcase it now, but I will wear it at Pitti Immagine in Florence with my father.
My Greatest Dream? To be like him. To have his elegance, his coherence, his charm. But above all: to earn his esteem.
Alessandro Sicuro
Brand Strategist | Photographer | Art Director | Project Manager
Alessandro Sicuro Comunication
Sure-com America 