Garbage Juice.

Juguito de la Basura.

It started in Vega Baja, Puerto Rico.

At 15, I was changing tires for the city. Not a cool job. We're talking garbage trucks — big, loud, filthy. The kind of work that gets under your fingernails and stays there.

But somewhere between the heat and the grease and the weight of those wheels, something clicked. Garbage Juice. The name just landed. I knew immediately it belonged to a punk band — something raw, something that didn't ask permission.

The band never happened. The name never left.

Years later, it became this. An apparel brand built around underground music, underground art, and the cities that carry that energy — London, São Paulo, Buenos Aires, Madrid, Barcelona, Puerto Rico. Places where culture lives in the walls, not the billboards.

Garbage Juice isn't for everyone.
It's for the people who find beauty in the gritty places.
The ones who know that the best things — the realest things —
usually come from somewhere unexpected.

Like a 15-year-old changing tires on garbage trucks in Puerto Rico,
dreaming up a name that wouldn't let go.

Garbage Juice. Est. Vega Baja.
Juguito de la Basura.