Tropicália was a Brazilian cultural movement that emerged in the late 1960s, as a response to the country’s military dictatorship. A fusion of high and low culture, and a bold reimagining of Brazilian identity, it challenged conventions and embraced contradiction. Tropicalismo draws from its spirit - playful, subversive, and unapologetically original.

Here’s a look at some of the key figures who shaped it and how their influence lives on in our collection.

 

Caetano Veloso

Caetano Veloso isn’t just a musician - he’s a movement. A founding force behind Tropicália, he fused Brazilian tradition with psychedelia, poetry, and politics, reshaping the country’s cultural landscape. His sound, rich with bossa nova warmth and avant-garde edge, defied Brazil’s dictatorship and led to his exile. But from London, he kept innovating, returning as an icon of artistic resistance. 

Our Spring/Summer '25 collection was soundtracked by his music - his spirit woven into every stitch. A few pieces even bear his name, a nod to his radical creativity and his timeless discography. 

Gal Costa 

Gal Costa’s voice defined Tropicália - pure, expressive, and unafraid. She moved effortlessly between the ethereal and the explosive, from the delicate Baby to the wild abandon of Meu Nome é Gal. A close collaborator of Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil, she brought their radical ideas to life, her voice turning resistance into something beautiful. 

But she wasn’t just a voice - she was a presence. Whether commanding the stage in a feather boa or pushing back against censorship with a now-iconic album covers, she defied expectations at every turn. Irreverent, experimental, and completely magnetic, her influence still echoes, impossible to ignore.

 

Gilberto Gil 
 
Gilberto Gil never stood still. From the gentle lilt of Domingo no Parque to the deep groove of Palco, his music moves - between genres, between ideas, between continents. He absorbed samba, rock, reggae, and Afro-Brazilian rhythms, making each his own, shaping the sound of Tropicália and everything that followed. 

Exiled by the dictatorship, he took Brazilian music global, blending London’s counterculture with Bahia’s traditions. Later, as Minister of Culture, he fought for artistic freedom as fiercely as he once sang for it. Few musicians reinvent themselves so often while remaining unmistakably themselves. Gil did, and still does. 

Jards Macalé

Jards Macalé never tried to fit in. Too strange for MPB, too rooted in samba for rock, he carved out his own space. His 1972 self-titled album is brooding, hypnotic, a little lawless - a record that felt as detached from Brazil’s mainstream as Macalé himself. Labelled maldito (cursed) by the establishment, he thrived on the fringes, channelling defiance into his music, his style, his very being. 

The Jards Vest takes its cue from a David Drew Zingg portrait - Macalé in Rio, cigarette in hand, trademark frames resting on his nose, tongue out, louche but unmistakably sharp. The shot captures what made him compelling: the refusal to posture, the ability to wear something without it ever wearing him. It’s that mix of ease and attitude, of not trying but still looking effortlessly cool, that stuck with us. A quiet kind of rebellion, just like him.

Jorge Ben Jor 
 
Jorge Ben Jor’s music is its own universe—where samba meets rock, football meets mysticism, saints and scoundrels share verses, and rhythm is king. His percussive guitar style is unmistakable, a groove so tight it feels effortless, so innovative it changed Brazilian music forever. Albums like Samba Esquema Novo, Fôrça Bruta, and A Tábua de Esmeralda aren’t just classics; they’re landmarks - records that redefined what Brazilian music could be. 

His influence runs through this collection. It’s in the records that played in the background as ideas took shape, in the details that nod to his era’s effortless style, in the atmosphere we wanted to create. Jorge Ben Jor didn’t just make great music - he built a whole world around it. And always, always, cool as hell. 

Os Mutantes / Rita Lee 

Os Mutantes were Tropicália at its wildest - mashing up samba, bossa nova, and fuzzed-out psychedelia with a sense of humour and total disregard for convention. Formed in 1966 by Rita Lee and brothers Arnaldo and Sérgio Dias, they sounded like nobody else. Their eponymous 1968 debut was playful, surreal, completely unhinged - one of those records that still feels ahead of its time. 

Rita Lee was the heart of it all. Funny, fearless, and effortlessly cool, she shaped the band’s sound before going on to become Brazil’s undisputed queen of rock. 

Gwilym Evans