In the years that followed, Stone Island apparel became associated with a certain kind of gritty English alternative rock (Oasis, the Stone Roses, Happy Mondays), as well as flashier genres like UK garage and jungle. The aesthetics of football fans and die-hard ravers found an intersection with the musicians of so-called cool Britannia, and the result was a brand that even today toes lines between subcultures. While the heydays of UK garage and Britpop are long over, Stone Island has managed to adapt and maintain its position as one of the go-to labels for successful (but still edgy) British musicians. (That’s not to say Stoney’s older fans have given it up, though; after performing at this year’s Glastonbury, Liam Gallagher took to Twitter to ask “the cunt who stole [his] Stone Island parkas” for their safe return.)

The relationship between fashion and music has long been a strong one, linked further by aspects like class identity, perceptions of wealth, and cultural capital. While American rappers—from Jay-Z (Tom Ford) and Migos (Versace) to Kanye and A$AP Rocky (both too many to name)—delight in repping designer labels in their bars, British rappers aren’t quite so aspirationally high-end. Instead of namechecking (and wearing) expensive European designers, grime artists are more likely to be kitted out in roadman staples like Adidas, Akademiks, Nike, and, of course, Stone Island. Recent references to the label can be found all over the genre, from Skepta in “Over the Top 2” and “That’s Not Me,” to Kano in “Three Wheel-Ups,” to Dave’s verse in his J Hus collaboration, “Samantha.” In the “Samantha” video, Dave’s attire matches his lyrics (“Stone Island from my head to my feet”), while everyone from Stormzy to members of Skepta’s crew BBK have been spotted in Stone Island apparel over the past few years. In the UK, a Stone Island namecheck is more than a reference that a grime-loving audience will get—it’s a brand they’ll know well.

When it comes to Americans, Drake might be the most famous of Stone Island’s rap fans, but he’s not the only one. Vince Staples and Travis Scott have been spotted in the brand a number of times, with Staples’ video for “Big Fish” resembling one long, dark Stone Island ad (with far better music). Last year, A$AP Nast accused Scott of stealing his style, firing off a flurry of Instagram posts in which Nast claimed to be the first East Coast rapper “anyone cared about” who wore Stone Island.

Much like Drake’s love affair with London and grime, Stone Island adds to the image he has painstakingly cultivated. It is a label still favored by men from a variety of backgrounds across the UK, yet has retained its low-key coolness. “I think the type of people who are wearing it are still the right type of people for the brand,” says Evans of Too Hot Limited. “It’s still niche in that it attracts people who are interested in culture and subcultures to it, rather than being completely overtly mainstream.”

After Stone Island’s first appearance on Drake’s Instagram, Complex published an article titled “Why Is Drake Moving Like a London ‘Road Man’?”—which, in a meta turn of events, was followed the next day by the rapper referencing the piece in an IG post about missing the capital city. Despite its Italian lineage, Stone Island has a strong London feel—which is to say it is a mashup of trends from across countries and cultures, an approach Drake clearly appreciates given the scope of his last album. Grime was intended as a counter-narrative to British rappers who would spit bars in American accents, but today it’s North American rappers who follow in English footsteps—via Italian kids trying to look American, no less. As Stone Island makes gains across the States with flagship stores, high-profile collaborations, and, of course, a flood of Drake love, the label’s perceived air of authenticity could become up for debate in the future. The question of who will be wearing Stone Island tomorrow, though, remains as unpredictable as it always has been.