You’ve seen the photos. The towering platforms that look like hooves, the models carrying each other like human backpacks, and the pervasive, heavy use of the pentagram. It’s enough to make any casual observer scroll back and wonder: is Rick Owens demonic?
Honestly, it’s a fair question if you’re looking at it from the outside. In a world of bright, logo-heavy luxury, Rick Owens is an anomaly. He’s the guy who built a $100 million empire on the aesthetics of shadows, brutalist concrete, and what he calls "glunge"—a mix of glamour and grunge. He's been nicknamed "The Dark Lord," a title he seems to wear with a wink and a shrug. But when you peel back the layers of black leather and incense smoke, the reality is a lot more human, and frankly, a lot more interesting than a simple "yes" or "no" about the occult.
The Pentagram in the Room: Why the Symbols Matter
Let’s talk about the elephant in the studio: the pentagram. It’s everywhere in the Owens universe, from the "Penta" briefs to the jewelry. For many, this is the "smoking gun." In Western tradition, we’ve been conditioned to see that five-pointed star and think of Satanism or dark rituals.
But Owens doesn’t use it as a tribute to the underworld.
For him, the pentagram is a geometric "primal howl." He’s explained in multiple interviews that he views it more as a symbol of teenage rebellion and a nod to the "other." Growing up in a rigid, conservative Catholic household in Porterville, California, Owens was surrounded by icons of piety. His father was a man of intense discipline. By adopting the pentagram, Owens isn't necessarily worshipping a deity; he's reclaiming the imagery of the outcast. It’s a middle finger to the "standard aesthetics" of airport beauty aisles and cookie-cutter glamour.
Basically, it's about inclusion for the weirdos.
Rituals, Not Religions
His runway shows aren't just walks; they're ceremonies. Take the FW21 Gethsemane collection. The name itself refers to the garden where Jesus prayed the night before his crucifixion. That’s heavy stuff. Owens used it to mirror the "purgatory-like" suspense of the pandemic era. He didn't use it to be blasphemous. He used it because it’s a powerful metaphor for human anxiety and the "biblical drama" of our current lives.
Then there was the Babel show (SS19), featuring a massive flaming pyre at the Palais de Tokyo. It looked like a scene from a folk-horror movie. But the inspiration was the Tower of Babel—a story about the confusion of tongues and the chaos that comes from human hubris. Owens is obsessed with the cycle of destruction and reconstruction. He sees the "sacred" and the "profane" as two sides of the same coin.
✨ Don't miss: Why Rockwoods Restaurant Otsego Minnesota is Still the Area’s Go-To Spot
The "High Priestess" Michèle Lamy
You can't talk about Rick without talking about his wife and collaborator, Michèle Lamy. If Rick is the architect, Michèle is the soul. With her blackened, tattooed fingers, gold teeth, and the single dark line drawn across her forehead every morning, she is often described as a witch or a "fashion oracle."
Is she actually into witchcraft?
She’s laughed off the "witch" labels before, but she definitely leans into the mystique. Her look is heavily inspired by the Berber (Amazigh) women of North Africa. Those facial tattoos and heavy silver jewelry are ancient talismans meant for protection and marking one’s tribe. It’s tribal, yes. It’s ritualistic, sure. But "demonic" implies a specific kind of evil that just doesn't align with the warmth people describe when they actually meet her.
Why Do People Think He's Evil?
People fear what they don't understand. Rick Owens disrupts the "clean" narrative of fashion.
- The Genital Reveal: The FW15 "Sphinx" show featured tunics that exposed male genitals. People called it depraved. Rick called it a "primal, childish gesture" against the rigid fashion system.
- The Human Backpacks: SS16 featured women strapped to other women. It looked like a bizarre ritual. In reality, it was about the strength of sisterhood and the "nurturing" side of humanity.
- The Soundtracks: He often uses heavy, distorted music, like the "hellrap" of Ghostemane. It’s aggressive, but it’s an outlet for suppressed rage, not a summoning.
Rick's work is an "ectoplasmic vomit" (his words!) of the things we usually try to hide. He likes the "lurid, transgressive gestures," but he also preaches tolerance and open-mindedness. He's a man who loves the "shabby" parts of Egypt and the "decrepit" theaters of old Hollywood. He finds beauty in the rot.
The Verdict: A Search for New Harmony
Is Rick Owens demonic? No. He’s a Maximalist Minimalist. He’s a guy who grew up under the thumb of strict Catholicism and decided to build his own church where everyone—the lonely, the weird, the "un-pretty"—is welcome. His "Dark Lord" persona is a character, a way to frame a brand that values the honesty of the human body over the perfection of a digital filter.
His clothes are "wearable autobiographies." They are about survival in a world that feels like it's constantly ending. If that feels dark, it’s because the world can be dark. Owens just isn't afraid to look at it.
How to Approach the "Rick Owens Aesthetic" Without the Spook
If you’re drawn to the look but worried about the "vibes," remember that fashion is a tool for self-expression, not a blood pact. Here’s how to navigate it:
- Look for the Silhouette: Focus on the architectural shapes—the dropped crotch, the long-line tees, the exaggerated shoulders. These are about proportion, not spirits.
- Understand the Reference: Before you buy a piece with a pentagram, know that in the Rick-verse, it’s a symbol of the "marginalized kid." If that resonates with you, wear it. If not, stick to the stunningly draped knits.
- Appreciate the Craft: Much of his work is made in Italy using high-end materials like recycled cashmere and vegetable-tanned leathers. It’s "slow fashion" masquerading as the apocalypse.
- Embrace the Dichotomy: You can wear Rick Owens and still be a person of faith, a suburban parent, or a tech CEO. The clothes are designed to be a "uniform" for the self-reliant.
Ultimately, Rick Owens is less about the devil and more about the human condition. He’s exploring the messy, beautiful, terrifying parts of being alive. If that makes people uncomfortable enough to call it "demonic," then he’s probably doing exactly what he intended to do: making you think.
To dive deeper into his world, start by looking at his furniture designs. They are brutal, heavy, and made of materials like ox bone and alabaster—proof that his vision isn't just about clothes, but about creating an entire landscape for a different kind of life.