- Elisa Rovesta
- January 10, 2026
- 11:00 am
There are different personalities that coexist within the same person, as if they are part of oneself yet, at the same time, distinct. These different facets of personality can transform into true icons, capable of becoming eternal. A remarkable example is undoubtedly David Bowie, who always traveled the border between reality and fantasy, building a musical world full of dreams and enchantments (and some stylistic choices that would have challenged any ordinary mortal). His style, constantly evolving and with almost dreamlike nuances, made him a unique and indelible figure.
In the 1970s, many were chasing peace and love, but Bowie had already understood that the future would be a strange place, full of fluid identities and elastic boundaries. Life on Mars? — written shortly before Ziggy — was the early manifesto of his vision:
a fragment in which the question isn’t whether life exists on Mars, but whether there is a way to escape earthly banality.
A bored girl, a reality that is no longer enough, a screen projecting something larger than ourselves: that’s the atmosphere.
It’s as if Bowie had already glimpsed Ziggy while writing that song, a flash of insight: the idea that to express certain emotions, a singer alone isn’t enough — you need an alien.
The artist built, through his music, parallel worlds and fantastical characters that allowed him to express every nuance of his art. And it is Ziggy Stardust, without a doubt, Bowie’s alter ego that enchanted and fascinated audiences, becoming a symbol of transformation and liberation. In the 1970s, Bowie introduced Ziggy Stardust to the world — an alien who came to Earth with the dream of saving the planet from destruction (a modest goal, to say the least). With his androgynous appearance, orange hair, flamboyant makeup, and glittering outfits, Ziggy was the perfect embodiment of magic and transgression: a dream materialized in rock. This character opened the doors to a sparkling universe for Bowie, where glam intertwined theatricality, beauty, and sonic audacity, transforming reality into a dreamlike, boundless experience.
Bowie tells the myth of Ziggy, a rockstar who rises to fame only to destroy herself, reflecting the ephemeral beauty of glory. At the same time, Ziggy tells the myth of Bowie, and the two exist in a mix of psychedelic and futuristic magic, where reality blends with dream, as can be felt, for example, in songs like Starman. It is a complicated relationship, like all cohabitations between alter ego and creator: one pushes, the other restrains, while the audience tries to keep up.
Ziggy’s image had a profound impact, challenging gender conventions and inviting audiences to explore new horizons of expression. His androgynous figure made Bowie an icon of freedom, talent, and style. In 1973, after reaching the peak of his popularity, Bowie decided to “kill” Ziggy symbolically during a concert at the Hammersmith Odeon, marking the end of an era. The announcement surprised fans and — not a minor detail — even his band, who learned of it live. However, the magic of Ziggy never vanished: the dream of a world without limits remained part of Bowie’s immortal legacy, continuing to inspire and captivate new generations. Fascinated and inspired, not by one, but by two icons residing in the same person: David Bowie.
And today, perhaps, we might want to be a little David and a little Ziggy, asking ourselves whether there really is life on Mars—or if this is all there is.