Tell us a bit about yourself.
I’m a Libra Sun, Leo Rising, and Capricorn Moon—so I’m all about beauty, responsibility, and bringing a little drama to everything I do. By day, I teach Grade 5 and 6 in Little Portugal to the most hilarious and ambitious set of kids. By night, I have the honour of teaching a fourth-year thesis course in Fashion Communication at Toronto Metropolitan University, alongside an inspiring team of sartorial thought leaders. I’ve been building L’Uomo Strano for the last 12 years. It’s a brand committed to queering the fashion canon and exploring how clothing can become a site of liberation. Most of my shows feature original soundscapes by my twin brother, Raleal, which makes each presentation feel like a familial offering.
What inspires you/L’Uomo Strano by Mic. Carter?
I’m inspired by justice, particularly the ways fashion can be used to interrupt normative, often violent, ideas about gender, race, and community. Afrofuturism has always been a guiding light for me: the idea that Black and queer futures are not only possible but already in motion. I’m also inspired by mythology, performance, and pantheonic figures—whether fictional (like Pokémon) or cultural icons (like Beyoncé or the contestants of RuPaul’s Drag Race). My work plays at the intersections of spectacle, theory, and survival.
Tell us the story behind your brand/art.
My current collection is called DEAD NAME. It’s an exploration of erasure, resistance, and transformation—born out of this moment’s escalating political assault on trans lives, and rooted in the undeniable link between Black liberation and gender freedom. In a world where Black, queer, and trans bodies are legislated against and policed, DEAD NAME insists that fashion can be more than aesthetics—it can be a mode of protection, defiance, and radical self-definition.
Fashion has always been used to control: to enforce binaries, to erase deviance, to commodify identity. DEAD NAME disrupts those legacies. Through experimental silhouettes, textile manipulation, and a refusal to sanitize beauty, the collection reimagines clothing as armour—visibility as resistance. It doesn’t mourn what was imposed, but instead celebrates what is self-determined. To name is to acknowledge; to rename is to reclaim. This collection is a love letter to the dolls. It dreams toward a future in which our bodies are not just seen, but safeguarded.
What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone starting out in your field?
Make your work a conversation between your history, your politics, and your pleasure. Fashion is more than trend forecasting or aesthetics; it’s world-building. Don’t be afraid to let your ethics guide your creative vision. And don’t wait for permission.
What do you love most about FAT?
So much. I love how FAT has made fashion feel happening in this city—alive, unruly, and full of possibility. I love the boundless creativity it fosters, the way it centres alternate narratives and welcomes designers who exist outside the traditional mould. I love the shifting venues, the intimacy of the shows, and how the energy changes with each new space. Most of all, I love how celebratory and generous the week feels. It’s one of the few platforms that makes space for both experimentation and care.
What does 2025 hold for L’Uomo Strano by Mic. Carter?
The jury’s still out—but I’m deeply excited about DEAD NAME and the collaborations it’s birthing. I’ll be working with Sebastian Blagdon of Imago Millinery on a suite of bespoke hats, fascinators, and sculptural headpieces. I’m also dreaming toward larger-scale installations and intermedia performance that blur the line between fashion, protest, and ritual.
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