In the silent Buenos Aires of the pandemic, one of its loudest, funniest and most extravagant personalities has died: Sergio De Loof. As an Almodovarian character, heart of a lively Buenos Aires who lived moments of happiness. In the 90s, it was the creative mind behind spaces where he spent the night and the meeting: Morocco, El Dorado, Bolivia, Ave Porco. At the opening of his recent retrospective, “Did You Feel About Me?” In the Museum of Modern Art, nobody was missing: Cecilia Roth, Jessica Trosman, Dolores Barreiro, Edgardo Giménez, Amalia Amoedo, Teté Coustarot, Humberto Tortonese, Martín Churba, Natalia Lobo, Leticia Brédice, Boy Olmi, Carola Reyna and Alan Faena, who was let in from blank tip, to hug the artist.
While the networks are filled with anecdotes of those who knew him a lot or hardly, a picture defines him and his legacy, that of an unclassifiable artist. He was the restless creator -decorator, art designer, promoter of cultural movements, air freshener, in the broadest sense of the word- with a recognizable style: baroque, ornate, ironic, his trash rococo. He said that his was to create “a beautiful fashion for the poor and ugly.” And there his muses walked: to find the beauty in what is born predestined to be the opposite.
He played with the materials in costumes, creations, films or architectural spaces where he mixed images that referred to royal palaces with carnivals. Crystal chandeliers, velvet, gold-framed mirrors could coexist, in joyous harmony, with curtains of rubber fringes, to scare away flies.
His spaces for nightlife were legendary and saving, for a generation that began to breathe freely. The bowling alleys were filled with art, surprising performances, exhibitions and fashion shows, in which the tops wore dresses made of paper or recycled garbage. While at the tables they ate businessmen, models, artists, and drag queens they danced among small crowds of all sexual liberties.
A lot of the magic of the ’80s and’ 90s is gone, said a tweeter, among the many voices that share, in these sad hours, the farewell of an endearing, valuable and absolutely modern creator.