Graphiquement, le livre se penche vers la répétition. Les mêmes sujets reviennent tout au long, se déplaçant légèrement à chaque apparition, performant, en distorsion, se multipliant sur les pages. L’identité devient une boucle, pas une ligne. Floridays est à la fois une lettre d’amour et une critique, un plaisir coupable chromé, poli, emballé, et sans excuses, surdimensionné.
Floridays is a multifaceted portrait of a synthetic society, gleaming and hyperreal on the surface, twitching with distortion underneath. It shines with a kind of nervous confidence, like something trying too hard not to break. Paolo draws from the overloaded aesthetic of the ’90s to depict a world deafened by its own shrillness, numbed by its own bad taste.
Graphically, the book leans into repetition. The same subjects recur throughout, shifting slightly with each appearance, performing, glitching, multiplying across the spreads. Identity becomes a loop, not a line. Floridays is both love letter and critique, a chrome-plated guilty pleasure, polished, packaged, and unapologetically supersized.
