Our favorite fathers of mindfuck, the Italian designers Dolce and Gabbana, are busy seducing farmboys again. This time they have cast their dusky, decadent magic over Canadian mega-model Andrew Stetson.

Stetson is the languid sleeping beauty in Calvin Klein’s new Euphoria cologne campaign (right). A blond, blue-eyed 28-year-old from Ontario who has but a simple dream: to earn enough money as a supermodel to one day purchase a hunk of land and use his carpentering skills to build his own home. Kind of brings a tear to your eye.

But that was before his recent tangle with the wild boys of Milan, Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana. After his recent appearance in D&G’s summer menswear show, we are forced to ask (cue The Shangri-Las:) Can Andrew ever go home again?

The top photo documents an array of menacing mutations — signs that Andrew’s time in Milan has transformed his healthy outdoor tan into D&G’s trademark nightlife wan. A skin hue not unlike the blanched airbrush effect of a Pierre & Gilles photograph.

Yes, Stetson’s body still maintains its sleek, unfussed muscularity — particularly his thighs with their not-overworked-at-the-gym tone. But Andrew’s washed-out coloring, red-rimmed eyes, and dangling mishmash of religious accouterments from distant heathen worlds: Prayer beads, flower malas and forked Hari Krishna third-eye paint — well, it’s all too jarring to … um, swallow!

But we jest.

We love the crazy mix-up.

Especially since it’s punctuated by D&G’s new go-go boy mesh underwear. A barely-there sweet nothing that bears out the prediction of Saks Fifth Avenue’s resident warlock, Ron Frasch, who told Milan fashionistas that the industry is now moving towards “underwear pieces that control the temperature of the body.”

Oh wow — how do they do that?

So with those small snippets of go-go mesh allowing air to quell the wild swings of the Stetson hotness, we’re trusting that Andrew will return to the middle path someday and find his way home again, hang up his love beads and start sawing and hammering and sweating under God’s big blue Canadian sky.

Shirtless, of course.

And if his jeans should happen to slip lazily down below that notorious D&G perimeter, the pube line, we hope a bit of D&G mesh will show as a souvenir of his crazy towheaded days dancing down Milan runways to a Hindi beat.

Shangri-Las, cue the cymbals and the tom-tom.