Listen, Milan isn’t just a city; it’s a pulse. A thrum of style, ambition, and, yeah, okay, football. Right now, at the intersection of it all, you’ll find Rafael Leão—not just tearing up the San Siro pitch for AC Milan, but weaving his own narrative off it, thread by thread, with his brand, Son Is Son.
Last December, amidst the pre-Christmas rush, Leão wasn’t just prepping for another match. He was orchestrating something… different. An open call went out: "Got skills? Prove it.” Not on the grass this time, but in front of a camera. Freestyle football flicks, showcasing not just talent, but a certain swagger—a willingness to be seen. And seen they were.
Eight teams, handpicked from the flood of submissions, descended on a makeshift 5-a-side pitch. One team was even chosen by Leão himself. It wasn't just about the €1000 prize pot, though that certainly added spice. This was a collision of worlds—football meeting fashion, head-on.
The teams were battling it out, yes, but they were also modeling. The prize? Bragging rights, sure. But also the first glimpse, the first wear, of Son Is Son’s newest drop: a "kit capsule." Imagine sleek lines, bold graphics, and a vibe that screams both street-ready and pitch-perfect. Leão's squad was kitted out in head-to-toe AC Milan, a not-so-subtle wink at the duality of his life. FC Zeta Milano took home the trophy and the clothes—the physical manifestation of Leão’s ambition stretching beyond the ninety minutes.
Now, this isn’t Leão’s first foray outside the box. As Way 45, he’s spitting bars—a rapper exploring rhythm and rhyme just like he navigates defenders. So, this fashion venture? It feels… inevitable. It's part of a lineage of athletes craving more than just the roar of the crowd.
Think Hector Bellerin with his commitment to slow, sustainable fashion—a quiet rebellion against the churn of fast trends. Leão’s energy, though, is different. It’s explosive, immediate, like his runs down the wing. This is his third drop since launching Son Is Son earlier this year—a pace that suggests he’s not just dabbling; he’s building something.
But why fashion? Why now, for a young man at the peak of his athletic prowess? Maybe it’s about control. On the pitch, you’re part of a system, a cog in a well-oiled machine. Off it? You’re the architect. You dictate the narrative.
Maybe it’s about legacy—leaving a mark that transcends the fleeting glory of a matchday win. Or maybe, and this is the part that intrigues me, it’s about identity. Who is Rafael Leão when the boots are hung up, and the cheers fade? Son Is Son feels like an answer—a statement piece in the ongoing conversation of who he is and who he’s becoming.
He's lighting up the pitch, yes, but the streets? They might be next. And honestly, I'm here for it. This isn’t just about selling clothes; it’s about self-expression, about challenging expectations, about finding beauty and power in the spaces between. Isn’t that what art, in all its forms, is all about?
