#doozywrites

Throughout the show Miraculous Ladybug, Gabriel Agreste has been introduced as a quiet, distant fashion designer and single father. His icy demeanor, obsession with control, and even his unyielding standards make him a truly fascinating antagonist. But beneath the surface of his terrorism, there does lie something far more complex– a man who is shaped not only by his personal grief, but also by a cultural machine that has been built to suppress emotion and worship perfection. I don’t find Gabriel as just a character in a kids show, but a haunting echo of the 20th century fashion world (and particularly its darker undertones). To understand him is to understand the emotional cost of a century that has turned artists into icons, muses into property, and grief into branding.

Gabriel Agreste channels the legacy of designers like Coco Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld, and Yves Saint Laurent (whether intentionally or not); figures who have revolutionised style while also living emotionally repressed, hyper-curated lives. The values that Gabriel embodies, like rigid control, emotional distance, and an image above intimacy are the same values that defined the golden age of haute couture. Through his character, the show has managed to present a stylized critique of a fashion industry that for decades prized elegance over empathy and myth over morality.

*Haha but it is worth mentioning they also kinda sucked ass at it bcuz they barely explored the fashion scene grr

CHANEL’S INFLUENCE/CONNECTION + GABRIEL’S EMOTIONAL AESTHETIC

Coco Chanel undeniably looms large over Gabriel’s character, and not just in the show as a canon inspiration, but in the ideology he seems to have absorbed. Chanel revolutionized fashion by stripping it down. She rejected adornment and excess in a favour of clean lines, monochromatic palettes, and a masculine tailoring for women. All her choices weren’t necessarily stylistic, but also psychological. Chanel herself came from trauma, being raised in an orphanage, emotionally hardened by abandonment, and so, her designs were about control. Being clean, untouchable and efficient.

Gabriel is made out to be her spiritual heir. He lives in a home that feels more like a mausoleum than a house– walls dripped in white, all minimal colour, and everything curated to the point of sterility. I think that his character uses fashion not to express emotion but to kind of erase it. It’s not a coincidence that even in his time of grief, Gabriel never appears disheveled. He represses the rawness of loss with an aesthetic polish– he mourns not by breaking down but instead freezing time, keeping Emilie in dormancy, like how one might preserve a couture gown from a forgotten season.

In Chanel’s world, elegance was everything, even in pain. Gabriel, like Chanel, sees emotion as something more private (and maybe even vulgar). His design language and personal aesthetic expresses control, and not vulnerability. His refusal to grieve openly, or even let Adrien speak freely about his mother isn’t JUST poor parenting but also fashion ideology. Fashion has rules, and so does mourning (in Gabriel’s mind at least). His wife must stay beautiful, preserved, untouched by time and his son must stay obedient, polished and camera-ready. His world, similar to Chanel’s, does not allow for any mess.

Moving forward, Coco Chanel was a nazi collaborator. During WW2, she was involved in espionage (Abwehr agent “Westminister”), and lived comfortably at the Hotel Ritz amongst Nazi officers. Her antisemitic views weren’t hidden at all, and she even attempted to use Nazi legal pressure to wrest Chanel No. 5 back from her Jewish business partners, the Wertheimers. Now I believe that Gabriel mirrors this manipulation of wartime power. The series places Gabriel within a subtly authoritarian past. The Agreste mansion resembles a Cold War sterility, wartime grandeur. He uses the miraculous (ancient magic) as a metaphor for fascist relics– like old power in new hands, repurposed for control.

*ehm not as great of an analysis but oh well..

LEGACY, MYTH & THE DESIGNER AS GOD

In the 1980s and 1990s, the fashion world underwent a seismic shift: designers were no longer artisans, but had instead become icons, brands, and in some cases, deities. Karl Lagerfeld, Giorgio Armani, Gianni Versace– these men weren’t merely creators. They were the public faces of entire empires, and their identities were inseparable from the houses that they led. Everything about them was curated, their homes, pets, lovers, mournings, and death. The designer was the product, and the style became persona.

Gabriel embodies this ideal to the letter. His very identity is consumed by the brand he built. He is not Gabriel the man, he is Gabriel Agreste– the creative genius, the perfectionist, the brand itself. Even his family life is subordinate to the demands of image and legacy. Adrien isn’t just his son; he’s a future campaign model. Emilie wasn’t just a wife; she was a muse, immortalized through fabric and memory. Even Nathalie who isn’t just a colleague, but a loyal assistant who is essential to what he’s built.

This is legacy-thinking. Fashion, in Gabriel’s world, is about what remains. He doesn’t simply want his family back, he wants to restore the idealized image of his life, the one that fits perfectly into the Agreste mythology. Like the great designers before him, he sees life as a narrative that is to be preserved and not lived. Chanel rewrote her biography to conceal inconvenient truths; Gabriel rewrites the rules of time and reality to erase loss (or really create it cuz haha he died). For him, death is not a tragedy, but a disruption. His obsession with the Miraculous is not just about power, but narrative control. He wants to edit the past the way one edits a fashion collection– cut out what doesn’t fit.

NATHALIE & THE COST OF DEVOTION

One of the most haunting aspects of Gabriel’s character is his relationship with his executive assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur. She is loyal, efficient, emotionally invested, and slowly dying for him (both quite literally and figuratively). And he gives her almost nothing in return. This dynamic, while painful, isn’t truly unfamiliar in the history of fashion.

The muse-assistant relationship has often been one of a quiet sacrifice. Think of Karl Lagerfeld’s assistant Jacques de Bascher, a man who died largely in obscurity after years of devotion to a man who rarely spoke of him. Or Inès de la Fressange, Chanel’s face for years, discarded when she gained too much popularity. Loyalty is to be expected, yet recognition is optional.

Gabriel follows this script flawlessly. Nathalie’s devotion to him is used and not cherished. She is always in the background, organizing Adrien’s life, managing the household (I would assume), and enabling Gabriel’s plans. She’s close enough to touch him, but never really allowed emotional equality. Even when she risks her life for him, the most she’s received is a quiet thank you or a moment of regret from him (and they usually fall short anyways). It’s the designer-muse model at its most brutal: You give everything. You get nothing, except proximity to genius.

EMOTIONAL STERILITY + ILLUSION OF CONTROL

In the 1990s, minimalism became fashion’s reigning aesthetic. Homes were whites, offices where white, outfits muted to black, gray, or beige. Designers like Helmut Lang and Jil Sander built their empires on the idea that control was the new luxury. That there was no room for emotional display. The modern fashion icon was untouchable, meant to be cool, aloof, perfectly composed. Emotions were chaos, and this fashion was order.

*okay here I was gonna yap about how his tone never rises above calm command but that’s literally a lie pls

Anyways, it’s all a repression, dressed as discipline, Gabriel’s emotional sterility is not a sign of his strength but a wound. His refusal to grieve Emilie properly, his inability to let Adrien grow, his coldness towards Nathalie– these are all but symptoms of a man who was trained to view vulnerability as a threat to control. He is a product of an industry that taught him to polish over pain, to turn emotion into silence, and to treat grief as something that should be tailored, not felt.

IMMORTALITY THROUGH FABRIC

In the end, everything Gabriel does circles back to his legacy. He wants to restore Emilie, and it’s not just because he loves her, but because her absence threatens the completeness of his narrative. He wants Adrien to model, not just because he’s proud, but because Adrien is the most beautiful extension of the Agreste name. In Gabriel's mind, people are symbols. Emilie is memory, Adrien is continuity, Nathalie is utility, He himself is an institution.

This mindset reflects fashion’s most dangerous lie: that people are replaceable, as long as the brand survives. Designers die. Collections fade. But the name remains. Gabriel believes this deeply. He does not want a family, but instead a dynasty. He does not want to let go, he wants to be eternal. And like the many before him, that desire slowly consumed him, until there was nothing left but the myth he was trying to preserve.

Gabriel’s villainy is born in grief, but it’s the type of grief that matters. He doesn’t mourn Emilie. He freezes her (literally). He refuses to let her go, and tries to force the universe to return her, even at the cost of everyone else’s freedom. This is Chanel post-Boy Capel, grieving by building an empire to outlast death. This is Lagerfeld mourning his mother by locking her room and never touching it again.

Gabriel isn’t grieving a person. He's grieving a legacy – a perfect moment in time that must be preserved. His brand, his son, and even the city are all extensions of this grief-as-control.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Gabriel Agreste is a portrait of a man shaped by an era of fashion that romanticised repression, defied control, and punished emotion. His aesthetic sensibility, his toxic relationships, and his obsessive need for legacy are not simple character traits; they are cultural inheritances. Gabriel Agreste is not evil because he’s stylish. He’s evil because he represents a system, a real one, that wrapped authoritarianism in silk, that silenced dissent through elegance, and that used beauty to justify cruelty.

From the mirrored walls of Chanel’s apartment to the cold marble of Gabriel’s lair, Miraculous Ladybug gives us more than a children’s villain. It gives us a portrait of the 20th-century fashion world of what it is– ruthless, glamorous, haunted. He is what happens when a man is taught that beauty matters more than love, that grief is something to be hidden, and that perfection is more important than connection.

The Daisho Caper

- The karaoke bar cutaway: Shadowsan’s discomfort with speaking with Carmen around Matsumoto castle and the scene then tansitions directly into a shot of a karaoke/club-like space. This could be a subtle nod to Lady Dokuso’s Club Dokuso, hinting that Shadowsan has personal associations with those environments aand possibly linked to time spent around her.

(“Oh but doozy it’s just because Zack and Ivy wanted to do kara- 💥”)

- “More Than a Feeling”: Zack and Ivy’s song choice is about nostalgia, longing, and bittersweet memory. Its placement in the scene could underscore Shadowsan’s own buried emotions, almost as if the environment is pulling up unresolved feelings. Could the song had implied something? Who knows! (I do, I say yes)

- “Notorious den of hoodlums”: Shadowsan’s harsh description of Club Dokuso feels unusually loaded. It’s not just a professional dismissal of the place, it somehow manages to carry a sharp, personal edge, the kind of language someone uses when they have history with a place and really wants to distance themselves emotionally

- Fight choreography as intimacy: Lady Dokuso predicts Shadowsan’s every move during the fight scene in the club, even poisoning the chopsticks she knew he’d reach for. That’s a level of familiarity beyond just typical colleagues. She also attacks his identity directly with: “How dare you stroll into my club like a samurai.” Like that literally targets his deepest insecurity— his inability to fully reconcile the samurai/ninja duality. Only someone who knows him personally would strike at that vulnerability !!

- Flirtatious sarcasm: The tone between them drips with this sort of barbed banter, not unlike ex-lovers who still know how to push each other’s buttons (is this reaching? yea and who cares)

The Beijing Bullion Caper

- “Toxic relationship” line: Shadowsan literally defines his connection to Dokuso in terms of toxicity like is that not language loaded with relational connotation?? It’s played off casually like oh yea cuz haha she poisoned him last time, BUT I think the framing makes it impossible to ignore as an echo of their prior dynamic

- Karaoke banter:

Shadowsan: “China is a bit far from a Tokyo night club.” (Something like idk)

Dokuso: “And you know how cranky I get without my karaoke.”

Please like this isn’t just villain/hero banter, it’s too domestic in tone, like it’s the kind of bitching that’s exchanged between two people who’ve spent a bit too much time together. It feels oddly intimate to me

- Combat synchronicity: During their chase, they move in rhythm, countering and matching each other’s movements like dance partners essentially. Dokuso even lands a ninja star hit on Shadowsan, something no one else in the show manages, reinforcing the idea that she knows his tells, weaknesses, and vulnerabilities better than anyone !!

- The rooftop fight: Okay like it literally climaxes like a breakup fight, to me it felt personal, vicious, and emotionally charged. Did you not see the little pause they had, when she was smiling at him and then stopped to immediately charge?? Hmmmm. Dokuso not only defeats him but poisons him, literally leaving him broken (his leg) in a way no one else in the series does. It’s symbolic in a way: that only someone from his past could cut this deep