Zero Gravity®: The Upward Drop – A Signature Motif Born of Motion
My journey as a designer was shaped by the timeless geometry of Paris. It is a city that teaches you the beauty of the line, the rigor of tradition, and the meticulous savoir-faire of the great fashion houses.
Paris gave me the discipline and the eye for luxury that defines 33MB today, but eventually, I found myself seeking a new perspective.
When I arrived in Lisbon, the world opened up in a new direction. While Paris is a masterpiece of horizontal grandeur, Lisbon is a city of ascent.
I found myself captivated by a landscape that constantly reaches for the sky, where golden sunshine hits the hills at impossible angles.
I spent my days watching iconic yellow trams scale steep inclines and navigating the stone stairs that weave through the hills. In Lisbon, your gaze is naturally pulled upward. It was here that I realized my next project wouldn't just be a shoe; it would be a "flag-bearer" for a new point of view.
This environment inspired the birth of the Zero Gravity® signature motif. I wanted to translate that feeling of momentum into a physical object.
I started where I always do: my sketchbook. I filled pages capturing the "upward-drop" and the sense of momentum I felt in the city.
In Lisbon, your gaze is naturally pulled upward.
While most sneakers are visually anchored to the ground, our signature silhouette features a sole that appears to melt and flow upward toward the sky. This "upward-drop" is a visual metaphor for Hope—the dream of unifying tradition with modernity, the realist with the visionary. It is a reminder that even when we are grounded, our natural direction is to rise.
But while the vision was clear on paper, I knew that to truly defy gravity, I had to move beyond the two-dimensional. I took a pair of sneakers, and started working on my ideal shape. Then I flipped them upside down, and started throwing paint at the soles. By letting the colors drip naturally toward what would normally be the "top" of the shoe, I allowed gravity to create the "upward" motion I was seeking.
The visual result was exactly what I wanted—a fluid, organic symbol of hope. However, the reality of chemistry hit quickly. Standard paint does not adhere to the technical plastics and rubbers of a sneaker sole. Within two or three wears, the design began to crack and peel.
I refused to let technical limitations kill my dream. I began an obsessive period of trial and error, moving from my kitchen table to the lab. When traditional paint failed to provide the "melting" 3D depth I envisioned, I turned to modern technology, experimenting with 3D techniques to create a trompe-l'oeil effect.
I refused to let technical limitations kill my dream.
Initially, the results were bulky and clunky. It wasn't right. It lacked the weightlessness I associated with hope. It felt as though I was adding more "gravity" to the shoe rather than reversing it.
During those weeks of failed samples, my friends and family became my safety net. Their encouragement pushed me to look beyond local labs
and my own kitchen table, transforming a personal obsession into a shared mission. I realized that to make a "weightless" dream real, I didn't just need better printers or better paints—I needed the hands of masters.
So, I set out again. This time, I headed for the historic heart of European shoemaking, hunting for the artisans who could finally turn this symbol of hope into a masterpiece of comfort.
I realized that to make a 'weightless' dream real, I didn't just need better printers or better paints—I needed the hands of masters.