Today we’d like to introduce you to Jon Fulton Adams.
Hi Jon Fulton, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
I grew up as an Evangelical minister’s kid in the Midwest, which means my early life was spent in drafty churches surrounded by various shades of oatmeal. In that world, ‘modesty’ was the highest compliment and beige was apparently the only color that was pleasing to the “Almighty”. It was a masterclass in restraint, and by age five, I was clawing at the drywall looking for an exit.
My entire career has essentially been a decades-long, highly coordinated jailbreak from stifling Sunday mornings.
I eventually escaped to the Savannah College of Art and Design, circling back over several years to acquire an MFA in Fashion (which is really just an expensive license to commit stylish sins.) I learned all the rules of tailoring and proportion specifically so I could apply the most entertaining ways to break them. The real epiphany, however, came from years of wandering the globe, where I discovered that my best work is always born in that sweet spot of being just a little bit scared, but much more intrigued.
Today, I’m back in the Midwest, living in KCMO with my husband, Ron Megee, and running my company, Queens Rocket LLC. I’ve traded the church pews for chaise lounges. I treat history like a costume trunk rather than a museum, and I firmly believe that if your patterns aren’t actively arguing with each other, you’re probably not having fun.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Has it been a smooth path? Only if you consider a road paved with gravel, broken glass, and the occasional discarded needle to be ‘smooth.’
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am entirely in favor of comfort (having spent my formative years on wooden pews, I appreciate a cushioned seat more than most.) But there is a vast difference between true comfort and a full elastic-waistband surrender. My ongoing crusade is convincing my fellow Midwesterners that putting in a little effort on themselves is not a form of torture. You can feel absolutely divine without appearing to the world like you’ve given up on style.
Then there’s the daily administrative comedy of running an actual business. I have an MFA in fashion, which means I can drape a bias-cut silk gown in my sleep. But the moment I am forced to look at an Excel spreadsheet or a tax form, my brain immediately makes the screeching sound of 90s AOL dial-up internet. Creative geniuses should not be allowed near math; it’s not on-brand.
But really, the hardest part is quietening that lingering minister’s-kid voice in the back of my head that occasionally whispers, ‘Is this too much?’ Fortunately, I’ve discovered the absolute best way to excise that particular demon is with louder, more expressive fabrics.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
If you ask my accountant, I run a small apparel company. If you ask my therapist, I wage a daily war against mediocrity.
I specialize in what I like to call ‘high-gloss heresy.’ My signature is the surprising collision of elements that have absolutely no business being in the same room together. Think of a Renaissance Madonna rendered in neon vinyl who looks like she’s about to be kicked out of a 1994 warehouse rave, and you’re getting close. I spent my youth immersed in the underground rave scene—surviving on strobe lights, adrenaline, and oversized proportions: that subculture is baked directly into my DNA.
Because I’ve also lived a full, parallel life in professional stage costuming, I design with an innate sense of scale, movement, and high drama. I know exactly how to construct a garment that can survive a spotlight, a monologue, or a sudden descent into a techno bassline. I don’t design for people who want to be in the crowd scenes; I design for the main character who fully expects to be talked about at brunch the next morning.
What sets me apart is that I am deeply referential but entirely irreverent. I will take a silhouette that took a 17th-century French court three months to perfect and crash it headfirst into pop-culture trash-glam. My work demands a reaction—if your blood pressure doesn’t spike even a little bit when you see it, I haven’t done my job.
Can you share something surprising about yourself?
For all my loud, boundary-pushing, techno-blasting maximalism, people are usually horrified to discover that my private life is run with the Virgo’s discipline of a boarding school.
The public sees the clashing, gender-bending drama, but behind closed doors, I have a deeply entrenched, borderline-psychotic need for domestic order. I fold my T-shirts with a precision of a surgeon. My husband, Ron, lives in a state of mild terror because I can instantly detect if he has rotated a coffee cup three degrees out of alignment on the kitchen shelf.
People expect me to be a creature of the night, holding court at some underground club until dawn. In reality, by 9:00 PM, I am usually tucked into bed with a cup of Mullion Leaf tea, wearing a tatty robe, and watching a biography of a long-dead European royal whose life ended terribly. Keeping the world spinning takes a lot of energy; my recovery method is behaving like an eccentric, 93-year-old librarian.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://jonfultonadams.com
- Instagram: @jonfultonadams
- Facebook: Jon Fulton Adams
- LinkedIn: jonfultonadams
