Mert Alas on Artistry Across The Senses

“Creativity has to be emotional, it has to be true, and it has to risk something,” fashion photographer Mert Alas, half of the pioneering duo Mert and Marcus, tells Surface. Born in Istanbul in 1971, Alas met Marcus Piggott in 1994. Their collaborative success began with a cover of Dazed and Confused and has extended to magazines and fashion maisons of the utmost prestige, enveloping top talent along the way. With a cinematic eye and sense of glamour, Mert and Marcus have defined an era of image-making.

In 2021, after studying the techniques of perfumery, Alas co-founded Seventy One gin. “I wanted to reinvent the process—to create a gin that could stand alone as a pure liquid, without needing sugary mixers,” he shares. This led to a process of distilling various botanicals individually to epitomize their essence. “The result was spectacular, but the journey was only beginning. To make it smoother, bolder, and more complex, I decided to introduce cask-resting—something rare in the world of gin.” The gin rests for 71 nights in oak—a process of patience and transformation, much like world-building on a set.

How did your background in image-making and sensuality shape the way you approached the alchemy of gin?

I’ve always believed beauty begins with a feeling, not an image. When I started creating Seventy One, I approached it the same way I approach photography—through emotion and light. A great photograph, like a great perfume or a great spirit, should seduce before it explains itself. Seventy One had to feel like liquid texture—smooth, mysterious, golden. Something you don’t just taste, but sense.

You’ve said Seventy One was “born at night.” What is it about the nocturnal world that you wanted to distill into the liquid?

Night has always been my language. It’s when people stop performing and start revealing. There’s a certain truth in that darkness—perfume smells stronger, music sounds deeper, time slows down. I wanted Seventy One to capture that exact moment when the night becomes a feeling. That’s why we rest the gin for seventy-one nights in oak casks. It’s not just aging; it’s transformation.

The bottle feels like an object of desire: part decanter, part sculpture. Can you walk us through its creation and what you want people to feel the moment they hold it?

I didn’t want a bottle; I wanted an object—something that could sit next to a perfume, a sculpture, or a candle and feel at home. The glass had to be heavy, sensual—like something stolen from a dream. The gold isn’t decoration; it’s ritual. When you hold it, you should feel like you’re holding a secret.

I’ve had a lifelong love affair with crystal and glassware—it goes back to my childhood, to my mother’s obsession with her crystal collection and the sound of her glasses clinking at dinner parties. I suppose that’s where it began. I wanted the vessel for this potion I’d imagined to match the story I was infusing into Seventy One. I was inspired by Art Deco jewelry, 1930s architecture, and the world of perfume.

You’ve collaborated with some of the most image-defining people of our time. How did you translate that same precision and glamour from fashion to the world of spirits?

Fashion taught me to edit—to remove everything that doesn’t belong until only the essential remains. With Seventy One, we did the same. No gimmicks, no noise—just craftsmanship and obsession. Every detail, from the botanicals to the cask, is there for a reason. The decadence is in the precision. To tell the truth, there’s no real formula to what I do—it’s just a point of view. My point of view.

What makes a truly memorable night, and how do you design that atmosphere?

I plan every detail—from light to scent, from sound to the mix of people—but what matters is harmony. It’s about creating a world you can’t leave. I love to dress for the night, and I ask my guests to do the same. I don’t want reality; I want a fantasy. Some nights it’s Honey Dijon on the decks, other times Daphne Guinness might sing, or an opera soprano might perform Verdi. It depends on how I feel—but always, it’s about seduction.

You launched a gin at a moment when most people were chasing tequila and mezcal. Why gin, and why now? What did you want to reclaim or reimagine about this category?

To be honest, I don’t really like tequila—I can’t stand the earthy agave taste. I’ve always been a gin and whisky lover. I’m fascinated by the artistry behind mixing botanicals—there’s something so creative and adventurous about it. But I’ve also questioned the traditional methods of gin-making.