On The Row / Fashion

Fashion Shows Reviews by Andrea Batilla

SPRING SUMMER 25 / WOMENSWEAR

PARIS WOMENSWEAR SS25

BALENCIAGA

According to the dictionary, dissent is defined as a “lively and intense critique, carried out from within (though it may sometimes result in outright opposition) of the structures of political parties, social, political, or religious organizations, due to deep disagreements over theoretical and ideological positions, directives, and courses of action, whether in general or on specific issues.” This alone could define Demna’s work at Balenciaga, which is becoming increasingly complex, layered, and intriguing. In a season dominated by the fear of change but also by fashion’s intrinsic need to clear the slate and rewrite everything, Balenciaga has once again shown how having a non-aligned, dissonant, and non-consoling voice is exactly what fashion should be.

The equivalence, written on two jackets, between fashion designers and human beings is a manifesto not only of creative freedom but of the essence of this profession, of the responsibility to speak about life. And for Demna, life is a chaotic affair where sex, streets, chaos, and ateliers collide in a pre-rational amalgam that, instead of cancelling each other out, feed off one another—just as we should all feed off what comes from below, from within our bodies, from the depths of our bodies. Here, everything is wonderfully Dionysian: as hot as lava, as cold as an iceberg, and as free as the natural tendency of humans to roll in the mud naked, laugh, and suck on each other’s strawberry-stained tongues.

Demna isn’t afraid of the dark, of judgment, of the past, or of others. The others are his field of expansion, his creative experience. They—we—are the ones he speaks to, asks, and prays, urging us not to stay still, not to clean ourselves too much, not to dress too much, not to overthink because, in the end, it’s impossible to fully rid ourselves of the thin, threatening dust of life.

CELINE

For those who still don’t know, it seems Hedi Slimane was a candidate for the creative direction of Chanel, but in the end, the deal fell through. The real reasons remain unknown, but insiders say Hedi wanted full control over everything, including perfumes, and the Wertheimer brothers refused. The result of this missed opportunity (which is a bigger loss for Chanel than for Slimane) is one of the most accomplished collections Hedi has ever created for Celine. Because, in fact, it’s a Chanel collection.
In a brilliant plot twist that the fashion world is pretending not to notice, Hedi Slimane revisited the second part of Coco Chanel’s career, from 1954 to 1971, avoiding nostalgia and instead reflecting on how Madame reinvented women’s fashion at the age of 71. In stark contrast to Dior’s prevailing artifice, Chanel designed suits for working women—who might not take the bus but certainly have their own lives and don’t depend on wealthy men. These were the new bourgeoisie, who needed recognizable symbols but also practical daily wear that freed them from the constraints of a highly patriarchal society.
What better time than now to return to that era and tell a story about clothes, function, and clarity? In mocking Chanel’s leadership, Slimane made a statement about today’s fashion—emerging from the futile tunnel of “quiet luxury” and the streetwear bubble in desperate search of something meaningful to say. And the finale of the collection’s presentation video, where 18th-century chandeliers come crashing down—what else could that be but a warning, not just to the Wertheimers but to the entire fashion world? It’s a clear allusion to the danger of self-indulgence, of endlessly reinterpreting oneself, and above all, of staying in a place that no longer has anything to do with the present.

VALENTINO

For those expecting a revolution, Alessandro Michele made it clear that, in his view, this is not the time for revolutions. In his debut show for Valentino, he invoked all his signature elements to assert, first and foremost, his identity. As I wrote about his first pre-collection, Michele’s identity—maximalist, decorative, and deeply rooted in the 1970s—almost entirely overlaps with what Valentino Garavani historically became famous for. From a philological perspective, Michele has been highly respectful.

The issue here isn’t his nostalgic and archaeological approach; rather, it’s about his method. Michele’s shows are a chaotic blend of aesthetics that deliberately overwhelm the eyes, rejecting any focus on individual products. They are anti-narrative in the sense that there is no clear story, inspiration, or theme. Instead, there’s a desire to shatter the message into a thousand pieces and leave it to the viewer to piece it back together. This approach certainly made sense in 2015 when he started at Gucci, but the world has since changed. People now seek order, a return to clear points of reference.

I fear that Michele’s therapeutic and Dionysian power is less effective today, and his anarchic spirit has already filled the windows of fast fashion stores. In these times, storytelling, even in cinema, is returning to something solid, perhaps painful, but undoubtedly real. In Michele’s show, there was no pain, and you could feel its absence. It’s no coincidence that the original soundtrack included the words, “Life is but a dream/that seems so delightful/joy is fleeting/for death is inevitable.” Nobody wants to die, but nobody wants to live with the illusion that death doesn’t exist either.

SCHIAPARELLI

It’s written Schiaparelli, but it reads disaster. While we were distracted, Daniel Roseberry put together a mood board with images of Mugler, Balmain, and Saint Laurent, steering the brand towards sexy/glam/bodycon for reasons that remain unclear. Unlike Elsa Schiaparelli, who reimagined bourgeois fashion of the 1930s with the detached, obsessive eye of someone who’s seen it all, Roseberry spins a tale of a carefree life lived between parties and clubs, possibly on the French Riviera. Reality has no place on the blank canvas where Daniel makes his lovely illustrations while sitting on a bench in Central Park. It’s left outside, waiting for someone to notice it.

The truly interesting part is the buzz and critical success (but not public appeal) that this project continues to generate, even when it sends Naomi (oops!) down the runway with a bear head on her shoulder. This phase of the brand’s life may go down in history as a symbol of the decadence we find ourselves in and the inability to say anything meaningful. Or, it might be remembered as one of the last brands to forget where it came from, and thus, not know where it’s headed.

We are in a time when storytelling and respect for origins have returned to center stage. Elsa Schiaparelli invented a way to mock rich French women while creating a sense of intellectual belonging to something greater. Miuccia Prada comes from that tradition. It’s hard to believe that all this immense innovative power could be lost in a metallic stretch-knit dress. Sadly, I fear those times are over.

LOEWE

While the world grapples with questions about its future without finding any real answers, fashion, as a reflection of the world, is slowly emerging from a long slumber. We’ve seen it in New York with Willy Chavarria’s political perspective, in Milan with Simone Bellotti’s auteurship at Bally, and Matthieu Blazy’s thoughtful focus on everyday products at Bottega Veneta. In Paris, Anthony Vaccarello at Saint Laurent explored the historical moment when fashion reached the masses. These are all different paths leading to the same point: reaffirming fashion’s central role as a tool for social critique and cultural construction.

In this context, the minimalist intellectualism of JW Anderson, much like Lucie and Luke Maier’s approach at Jil Sander, feels outdated. The surreal, exaggerated proportions of Loewe’s collections have suddenly become obsolete, resembling a self-referential game only understandable to those within the fashion bubble. They feel detached from reality, with a level of self-indulgence that is no longer compelling.

Many are speculating that JW Anderson could be the next creative director at Dior. If true, the beloved LVMH brand would likely return to the fantasy-reality split seen during the Galliano and Raf Simons eras, moving away from Chiuri’s conscientious focus on product. While this move might restore Dior’s long-lost coolness, it would miss the new goal that fashion has set for itself: to speak honestly about real life again. A practice that existed until people stopped using their hands to caress fabric and started nervously swiping across the smooth glass screens of their phones.

SAINT LAURENT

Some fashion shows tear down everything that came before and, in just a few minutes, lay the groundwork for everything that’s to come. Anthony Vaccarello has decisively crushed the tired concept of quiet luxury, the ongoing creative drought, and the widespread lack of direction, bringing something back to the forefront that many had forgotten: meaning. This collection captured everything Yves stood for, with precision and respect, but also delivered a bold new message.

By splitting the show into two distinct halves, Vaccarello revived an old idea that most people still follow: dressing for the occasion. We dress for the day during the day, and we dress for the evening in the evening. In the first half, the focus was on comfort, masculine tailoring, and sportswear. The second half brought out luxury, decoration, and color. This duality, rooted in the late ’70s and early ’80s, is where Vaccarello drew his inspiration.

Reaffirming the fundamentals of everyday dressing is key to dispelling the sense of chaos we’re in. It’s not about counter-reform but regeneration. At Saint Laurent, the light at the end of the tunnel was strong and clear. Now, all that’s left is to follow it.

MILANO WOMENSWEAR SS25

Persistent rumors suggest Galliano may be leaving Margiela, with Glenn Martens as his replacement. It wouldn’t be a bad choice—Martens would remain within OTB in a more prestigious role, with greater creative freedom. However, this could potentially undermine the extraordinary work the Belgian designer is doing at Diesel, a brand he has literally reinvented. Successful rebranding projects are becoming rare—just look at the disaster with Maximilian Davis at Ferragamo. In contrast, Martens is not only a perfect match for Diesel but has also managed to inject a narrative depth that the brand has never had.

In this collection, one of his best, the theme was destruction and regeneration. Martens has accelerated a sustainable approach to denim production—one of the least sustainable industries in the world. But this time, he also did so on a metaphorical level. The intense cycles of distress the garments underwent, paired with the eerie tinted lenses of the models, pointed not so much to a dystopian future but to a deeply sick present, where the erosion of the earth’s resources is something we often forget. The excessive washes, to the point of fraying the fibers, no longer evoked the carefree atmosphere of the early 2000s but a 2024 where finding the balance between progress and survival is anything but easy.

The picture Martens paints is grim yet optimistic, and that’s where his brilliance lies today. Luxury has abandoned the streets, the middle class, and reality checks, retreating into eerie ivory towers that initially seemed beautiful but are now quickly crumbling. At Diesel, however, the reality was loud and clear—neither musical nor idyllic. It conveyed the awareness of the disappearance of meaning, of fashion drifting away from real life. Wherever Glenn Martens goes, his voice must remain strong and clear, for many reasons, but most importantly because we need it.

BOTTEGA VENETA

Matthieu Blazy’s collections for Bottega Veneta aren’t always easy to decode because his language is layered, intricate, deep, and full. However, in this show, the message was crystal clear. There was a moment between the late ’70s and early ’80s when Italian fashion built a cultural and market bridge with the United States, reinterpreting American sportswear and giving tangible form to power suiting. Giorgio Armani, in particular, became the symbol of workwear that was both elegant and comfortable, as well as weekend looks that were relaxed and luxurious. All without logos, all rather understated. During that time, Bottega Veneta was the go-to brand for those seeking soft, high-quality bags—quiet yet powerful. It’s no coincidence that the two brands intersected in American Gigolo, Paul Schrader’s 1980 film.

Blazy revisits this paradoxical yet creatively explosive period with the spirit of a child finding their parents’ clothes in the wardrobe and playing dress-up. There’s no judgment or attempt at reinterpretation; instead, in a nearly Dadaist way, the clothes shed their heavy cultural meanings and become a playground for discovery and experimentation. This isn’t about revisiting Bottega Veneta’s past but looking toward its future. It’s a wonderfully intelligent way to escape empty repetition, nostalgia, and, above all, a lack of ideas.

Matthieu Blazy is interested in telling the story of today, fully aware of yesterday’s events but without questioning them in search of comforting answers that simply don’t exist..

BALLY

The only real surprise of this fashion week was the Bally collection designed by Simone Bellotti. There are many reasons for this. The first is that Simone is a seasoned professional. At 47, he has extensive experience, from Ferré to Dolce & Gabbana to Gucci under Alessandro Michele, though it all began—perhaps not surprisingly—with AF Vandervost in Antwerp. Experience is a word that should be spoken aloud, not just used occasionally.
The second reason is that he’s working with a brand founded in 1851 but one that doesn’t have a clear history—in the sense that no one has ever decoded and narrated its cultural boundaries. History is another word that should be explored more often.
Finally, Simone has a vision—personal, poetic, and precise. He loves to explore a period between the 1980s and 1990s that expressed a kind of nihilistic radicalism in an open critique of mainstream optimism. The names to mention are, first of all, Romeo Gigli, then Helmut Lang, Jil Sander, and all the Japanese designers that followed. Simone revives the cold, detached, but poetic spirit of those figures and adds his own personal touch of strangeness. There’s something playful but also unsettling, childlike but also horror-like. A child in a Dario Argento film.
Ultimately, the key word is “personal vision,” orchestrating all elements into a familiar symphonic rhythm. Bellotti is not only talented; he is the antidote to the darkness that surrounds us. Take note, everyone.

TOD’S

Among all the minimalisms out there, Matteo Tamburini’s take for Tod’s seems to be one of the most credible. Having risen through the ranks at Bottega Veneta and now tasked with filling the void left by Walter Chiapponi, Matteo is rightly focused on elevating a brand that, until a few years ago, wasn’t really considered a brand. Tod’s was founded by Filippo della Valle in the early 20th century, and in the 1970s, like many smart Italian brands, it built an international reputation first through the quality of its products and then with the iconic soft moccasins with rubber soles.

I couldn’t find any information on why it’s called Tod’s, which says a lot about how certain Italian brands never felt the need to question their history and simply followed a standard path to success. Nowadays, those questions must be asked, and rightly so, Diego Della Valle has embarked on a deeply identity-driven journey that is positioning the brand firmly among the top names.

Matteo Tamburini arrives at a time when Tod’s has the credibility to offer new content, and with this collection—anchored in a strong design vision—he’s started the engines. Compared to minimalism for its own sake, here we have something called authorship. Perhaps it’s not yet fully tangible, but it’s there. Tod’s is a solid project.

Perhaps it’s time to apply the same model to the other brands in the group, Hogan and Fay, which still seem to be navigating murky waters.

GUCCI

Non voglio mica la luna, in addition to being the title of the song by Fiordaliso that closed the Gucci show, is also a life philosophy. In Zucchero Fornaciari’s lyrics, it tells the story of a woman who wants to stay on the sidelines, dreaming in a shack by the river because, with eyes full of wind, one doesn’t notice where the feeling is. That’s exactly the place everyone is searching for right now.

In 1984, when Fiordaliso performed the song at Sanremo, its meaning was probably about withdrawing from the frantic search for happiness, true love, or the spotlight. Today, in a broader sense, it can be interpreted as the search for a place free from pressures, goals, judgments, and the constant scrutiny of one’s work through an overexposed media lens.

Maybe I’m being romantic, but for the first time during this fashion week, I felt the urgency of a message—a warning against the relentless thirst for performance that everyone, including ourselves, seems to have. Sabato De Sarno is quickly becoming a glitch in the system simply by continuing to do what he wants, despite the world telling him he should do something else. His collection for Gucci, the best since he took the helm, reflects a calm and unhurried maturation toward something that may not yet be fully realized, but grows more interesting with each season.

These are honest, wearable clothes that don’t aspire to teach life lessons, reinterpret complex heritage, or simply conform to expectations. Gucci has become a place where the heart doesn’t race because it’s resting, where eyes aren’t blinded, and ears don’t bleed from unnecessary noise.

It’s surprisingly powerful to focus on the singularity of the object rather than the structures that give it meaning. It’s wonderfully anti-narrative, which today is a strength, because it seems clear to me that finding a synthesis of the world is impossible. What is possible, however, is to find a moment to warm your skin, look at the stars, and take more time for yourself. Simply.

PRADA

Raf Simons and Miuccia Prada shuffled the deck, producing a collection deliberately without a theme, aiming to confuse social media algorithms and prevent them from funneling us into a spiral of visual repetition. Nice try, as Natasha Lyonne from Orange is the New Black might say. The idea of consciously avoiding meaning in an era when no one produces meaning is intriguing. It’s a perfect snapshot of our current reality: disoriented, directionless, and drowning in social media.

However, the reality is that people are responding. They’re inventing not-so-hidden ways to survive and transform without conforming. This happens not only on social media but also in places where many temporary autonomous zones exist, as Hakim Bey would call them, rejecting the false, the sanitized, the compliant—in other words, the market.

Prada was, for quite some time, a flag-bearer of dissent from within the system, offering a form of rebellion that wasn’t always easy to digest, and at times even nihilistic. Now, it seems to be aligning more with market trends, featuring prominent logos, and in this case, focusing on reworking pieces from the archive.

MOSCHINO

The challenge of translating Franco Moschino’s monolithic legacy into a language understandable to those who didn’t experience or know him is enormous. Franco’s work was an open critique of 1980s consumerism, and his premature death in 1994 meant he never had the chance to address a decade with much different, perhaps more complex, concerns. Today, we’re again at a point where it would be interesting to develop a critical stance toward a world—fashion—that’s completely folded in on itself and unable to respond to social stimuli. However, the direction Adrian Appiolaza is taking for Moschino doesn’t seem to go that way. The symbolic universe of the brand’s founder is all there, but it’s not being reactivated with the fiercely ironic gaze that defined it. The signature elements are reintroduced, edited, simplified, and recirculated.

In this way, no one will ever understand that “TUBINO OR NOT TUBINO” wasn’t just a funny slogan, but a critique of Milanese corruption and obsolescence, of its suffocating power structures, its decaying and putrefying values that were already in decline in the ‘80s. Today’s society holds contradictions just as powerful, but making a critique of them seems unrealistic, difficult, and likely to trigger a mega shitstorm on social media. So, Appiolaza, too, has chosen to make beautiful clothes and present a cohesive collection, but one that adds nothing to what we already know. Like everything we’ve seen so far, it keeps us at a safe distance from emotions we evidently aren’t capable of handling: anger, pain, frustration.

“Fashion is dead,” Franco used to say. And maybe he was right.

MARCO RAMBALDI

Those who don’t work closely with the market can’t grasp how devastating this period is, both inside and outside of fashion. Orders have plummeted, sales have drastically declined, and the general atmosphere is one of fear. The future has never felt so uncertain. The once-key Asian markets are now former key markets. And as if that weren’t enough, we’re facing two wars. Every day, a project is scaled back, a brand shuts down, people lose their jobs, and others can’t find work. Personally, this is one of the most disheartening moments I can remember.

Independent brands are fighting the hardest battle—those without investors, celebrity friends, or the luxury of saying something smart when the world seems intent on shutting itself away, ears plugged. Marco Rambaldi is one of these fighters. He clings to his vision of a different life—one built on inclusion, love, extended families, and good things—without deviating an inch. He ignores the siren calls and stays the course, making his voice more confident and sophisticated and his knitwear even more beautiful.

Why Marco hasn’t landed a major creative direction role is a mystery I’m not sure I want to explore. What I do want to say is that in Italy, we have treasures that tell stories about us—Italians—that are hard to hear. Maybe they are more painful or just deeper, but certainly interesting. These treasures need to be injected into the system, like a vaccine. From within, they can heal, renew, rebuild, and improve. In a word, regenerate.

N°21

It’s no surprise that Alessandro Dell’Acqua’s N°21 feels like home—no anxiety, no frantic hype, no obsessive buildup. It’s also not surprising that Alessandro’s style remains solid, unchanged by fleeting trends. What is surprising is that, after witnessing a clear disconnect between fashion and reality during the first day of shows, here, there was a sense of truth.

Dell’Acqua has always kept his work simple: focus on the product, show gratitude to the buyers, and avoid overcomplicating things. In a time of unprecedented uncertainty, N°21 stands out as something authentic, rooted in a ‘90s aesthetic that’s both reassuring and never dull. Made in Italy emerged in the ‘70s as a response to Parisian fashion, which was busy with parties and yachts while the streets were filled with protests and violence. That grounded spirit is still here, anchored firmly, without the risk of being swept away in the blink of an eye.

These clothes are designed to be worn, not just admired—and that, today, is revolutionary. Each piece has a clear purpose and function, offering a response to the wearer’s needs. The storm outside—partly real, partly imagined—didn’t breach the walls of N°21’s former garage space. It remained outside, taking with it the debris of those who believe billion-dollar yachts are needed to weather the storm. Sometimes, all you need is a paper boat—light, poetic, romantic. Beautiful.

MARNI

Francesco Risso has created an international level of coolness around Marni, making his shows one of the hottest tickets in Milan. He achieved this by building a world where creativity seems to breathe freely, which is no small feat in times like these. However, recently, the product itself—meaning the clothes—has veered more toward a conventional language with a strong bourgeois foundation, a cultural and aesthetic sphere from which he had always tried to distance himself.

The show’s setting was disjointed; the chairs were scattered, and some (including mine) did not offer a good view. This likely led attendees to expect something equally unconventional during the hour-long wait for the show to start. Watching the control booth, where the technicians shifted from boredom to excitement, I thought something shocking would happen. I even made an association with Pina Bausch’s Café Müller.

However, the show, entirely made of cotton poplin, seemed like an ode to spring florals so beloved by Anna Wintour. And while I imagine the goal was to present them in an obsessive, therefore critical way, the result was a collection of beautiful dresses fit for a countryside afternoon or an evening in the city.

It makes sense that Risso might be seeking a more commercial dimension, perhaps closer to his experience at Prada. What’s harder to understand is how he moved from indie low-fi couture to high-fi couture in such a short time. The question here is: where does he stand? Do we have an independent spirit resisting the system, or are we part of it, maybe even critiquing it from within? And, if we choose to follow the path set by Miuccia Prada, are we sure we have her same destructive force?

I believe Risso will have to address these questions in his upcoming shows, which, by the way, we all hope will start on time.

FENDI

For a brief time, Silvia Fendi served as the creative director of Fendi’s Womenswear. For SS 21, she designed a collection that drew from her childhood, her all-female memories, and her grandmother Adele, who founded the brand in 1925. In Kim Jones’ most recent show, the soundtrack featured the voices of Silvia and her mother, Anna, speaking about Adele—an extraordinary woman and the matriarch of a remarkable legacy. Listening to them plunged the audience into a deeply emotional space, reconnecting with a level of sincerity that fashion may have lost.

However, unlike Silvia’s stunning collection, which balanced and echoed this emotional depth, Kim Jones’ was icy—perhaps the iciest of all. The disconnection was so deep that it felt unsettling, as if the brand’s rich, feminine history had been erased. Fendi is a Roman brand—elegant, warm, playful, and unmistakably emotional. The complete absence of this, coupled with Kim Jones’ now-obvious shortcomings, reveals a directional problem that LVMH has yet to address.

The solution lies in the brand’s own history. Its revival must come from rediscovering its roots—its archives, the women who gave it strength, and their uniqueness. The voices telling this story are there—we all heard them during the show. Maybe it’s time to pause and truly listen.

BURBERRY

As we’re witnessing with Burberry, it’s no longer uncommon to see a brand fall apart. But Blaming Daniel Lee alone misses the point—his work at Bottega Veneta brought that brand back to the forefront of fashion. In Burberry’s case, the problems are likely a tangled web, making those inside feel trapped in a maze with no way out, like The Shining.

Today’s economic downturn has slashed spending, causing confusion and panic. The old rules don’t work anymore. Especially for monolithic brands like Burberry, which, since its founding in 1856, has never managed to break out of its rigid identity. Few care about the English countryside or a beige check these days, but many would welcome a fresh take on technical sportswear—something Burberry is well-placed to explore.

But monoliths resist change, and as a result, the brand is crumbling, like an old car left to rust on the roadside. If it were only Burberry, we could turn a blind eye, but we see ships stuck in the fog everywhere we look.

To revive a brand, it doesn’t need to die first. Sometimes, it just needs to rest, be listened to, and maybe be taken to places it’s never been.

ALAIA

Abandoning all fear and feeling free is a sensation every human should experience at least once——standing before a giant, facing something enormously dangerous, and staring it in the eye without the slightest hint of fear, without trembling. This is how Pieter Mulier felt, not in the face of the grandeur of New York’s Guggenheim or the American fashion references he chose to use, but rather in the presence of Azzedine Alaïa’s legacy. This fashion show definitively dispelled any performance anxiety and fears associated with such a monumental legacy. Mulier felt unburdened and lightened the collection. The garments moved almost without form, reaching the opposite of Alaïa’s sculptural approach, sometimes even negating it. What remained central was the obsessive sense of completed beauty, a flawless, risk-free landscape. Desire and seduction under Mulier have become more ethereal, adapted to the times. They are no longer tools of attack or defence but acknowledgements of the free flow of self-awareness and brilliance. Indeed, the women who walked for Alaïa shone brightly, illuminating a space designed to avoid coldness and solemnity. A circular, spiral space that ascends towards infinity. A place where I am sure Pieter Mulier felt at home.

SPRING SUMMER 25 / MENSWEAR

BALENCIAGA 53RD COUTURE COLLECTION

It was very difficult to recognize the number of celebrities at the Balenciaga couture show. They were all obscured within Demna’s powerful aesthetic, masked, distorted, made invisible. The fashion media circus, used by Demna as a universal communication tool, needed to be decoded in that context to be seen. I bumped into Katy Perry without realizing it was her at all. This is one of the magic tricks we’ve become accustomed to from the Georgian designer, who navigates the tumultuous seas of celebrity culture undisturbed, without drowning or falling victim to it, but rather realigning everyone as if they were an army under his command.
Perhaps the most extraordinary form of critique of the system that Demna exercises—though certainly not the only one—is having conquered the world’s most historically significant couture salon and opening it up to rags, flea market finds, and valueless objets trouvés. At Balenciaga, everything is clear because everything is wrong. Nothing follows the classic criteria that have been immobile for centuries—it’s all upside down, chaotic. The universe created by the only true heir of Margiela is a lifeboat, one of the few, in which a fragmented and anguished reality regains life and meaning, where one can reflect on the meaning of fashion without useless intellectualism, with an explosive index of reality.
Demna remains an incredible talent, perhaps even more so than before because now he stands alone. His work, purified of sensationalism, makes more sense than it did ten years ago. Meanwhile, fashion and the world have regressed into a nihilistic form of counter-reformation. He continues to work like a surgeon, cutting into reality with a sharp scalpel, opening its entrails, extracting its tumours, exposing them to the light, and then stitching everything back up. In the end, you leave Balenciaga healthier, as if having encountered one of the most expressive forms that fashion has ever achieved.

ABOUT CHANEL HERITAGE AT VOGUE WORLD, THOM BROWNE, SCHIAPARELLI, AND KID SUPER.

What these particularly spectacular shows have in common is the idea that the designers, or in the case of Vogue World, Anna Wintour and Carine Roitfeld, have of Paris. Amidst an overwhelming amount of useless clothes, it’s necessary to reflect on how these types of productions capture and express the quantitative factor of French fashion—its way of moving through paradoxes, plausibilities, metaphors, and maximalisms. But almost never do they follow a principle of reality. This isn’t about Instagrammability, as many are led to believe, but about the fact that Americans, in particular, think of Paris as a stage for self-indulgent fantasies which, in a world increasingly close to cultural illiteracy, are mistaken for art.

There is nothing artistic about any of these super productions, nor anything close to French culture, which long ago surpassed Louis XIV and Mitterrand and possesses a reflective capacity we should envy. The country that gave birth to existentialism, Bourdieu and Foucault is superficially used in a Hollywood-esque manner much closer to Cirque du Soleil than to the innovative and critical impact of Margiela or Demna. Behind this sleep of reason lies the evident generation of monsters, which is no longer understood by the masses, who ironically mock the excess and shy away from the emptiness.
The birthplace of pop culture, America, is mechanically using French culture, mistaking fireworks for comets and teaching the world that only quantity holds value. It is not. Fashion only makes sense when it serves as a critical expression of reality, not a mere spectacle. But critical thinking is a costly endeavor, both in terms of time and money, and its results require sustained, long-term efforts. In our current era of instant gratification, no one is willing to wait, and so we all rush headlong towards a void.

RICK OWENS

Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 was composed while Europe gradually freed itself from Napoleonic rule. Around the same time Lady Whistledown was writing gossip in London, Napoleon was preparing for his Russian campaign, which would mark the beginning of his downfall. This choice of soundtrack for Rick Owens’ fashion show is no coincidence, especially since the 200 models on the runway indeed resembled an army. However, the white-clad troops of the king of goth carried symbolic meanings far beyond the war/peace dichotomy. The obsessive repetition of only ten looks, each cloned 20 times, was both a way to theatricalize the message and a suggestion of the idea of cohesion, common belief, and deep politicization of fashion.

Although the aesthetic draws from the super-campy series of films about the Zigfield Follies of the 1940s, the result feels like belonging to a sectarian religion whose members think they have the power to change the world together. Probably the only living designer who still roots himself in what was once called subcultures, Rick Owens believes that fashion serves to send messages, to create communities of believers who recognize themselves in his clothes and feel different, more free, and less trapped in social appearances. Whether this is true in reality or not, Rick Owens’ vision is one of the few that still shakes because it has an unwavering dogmatic characteristic: it is independent. His name resonates with increasing sincerity because the rest of fashion seems increasingly fake, and it’s hard to imagine Rick’s marketing department deciding to raise the average price of bags by 30%. It is a free thought that produces clothes many of us will never wear, but if we believe in freedom, we should observe, understand, love, and, as much as possible, protect like something precious but fragile.

DRIES VAN NOTEN

Chiasmus, or ring composition, is a rhetorical figure used since the time of Homer. It involves repeating identical or similar elements in mirrored positions, such as the beginning and end. Dries van Noten’s latest (both in terms of time and his career) fashion show features an exact ring composition, starting and ending with a black coat. Applying such rhetorical devices to a show is not usual (tell that to A$AP Rocky); in fact, it’s extremely rare. But Dries is from Antwerp, the capital of fashion intellectualism, and he has likely read a few books. Indeed, the show is divided into two parts: one exploring male tailoring and the other disintegrating it, rendering it literally transparent, with a final synthesis in which the elements mix, adding complexity to the narrative structure. The scheme itself is visible before the clothes, meaning the concept before the object. Without delving into Kant’s theory of transcendence, we can say that Dries Van Noten uses a strict system of rational rules to convey an idea of masculine romanticism that would be profoundly unacceptable today. We can also say that overturning the logical categories of narrative (Alessandro Michele is an example) has plunged fashion into an anxiety of coolness where neither the general meaning nor that of the individual garments (again, A$AP Rocky) can be understood. Dries’ pre-retirement lesson is an old, ancient, out-of-fashion thing. It involves the habit of reflecting on the narrative meaning of the garments before they hit the runway, that is, a priori rather than a posteriori (again, Kant). But it also involves dwelling on the fact that working on emotions is extremely difficult and that almost everyone flees from this material, terrified of making a mistake, of giving an imperfect, incorrect, unsanitised idea of themselves.

MILAN MEN’S SS25

PRADA

Prada is doing exceptionally well. Sales are soaring in all regions of the world. Their fashion shows are always among the most acclaimed, and people eagerly try to understand why Miuccia and Raf have designed trompe l’oeil sweaters or pants. On the brand’s website, you can find simple cotton handkerchief tops for 1,450 Euros, slippers for 580 Euros, and striped poplin shirts for 980 Euros. Of course, there is also a plethora of bags ranging from a linen-blend shopper for 2,100 Euros to the iconic Prada Galleria large for 6,500 Euros. All items prominently display the Prada logo, which for some is the main decorative feature.

The shift from an intellectual and understated brand to a competitor of Vuitton or Chanel began with the arrival of Raf Simons, though no one knows whether this was with or against his will. This simple but radical change went unnoticed by the fashion bubble but was well perceived by the average consumer seeking a not-too-quiet luxury. This is the real and only revolutionary element of the creative duo (or their merchandising department). Prada has changed its essence while pretending not to, embracing the logomania it once despised and criticized, and fundamentally adapting to the mechanisms of the global market from which it always kept a certain distance. There’s nothing wrong with this, nor with reworking the brand’s wonderful archive to fit different narratives without introducing any new content. It is logical and healthy.

Yet, something seems to be missing. The madness of Miuccia’s mind, her ability to explore increasingly surprising territories, her talent for inventing the world’s taste are no longer there. The world is divided between those who listen to the music around them, the one without a future, and those who have a damn wall in their heads. Today, at Prada, we are closer to the latter.

GUCCI

I believe I was among the very first to express a critical comment on Sabato de Sarno’s collections at Gucci. I mean among the first in the world. I also know that the impact of what I wrote was rather painful. He told me so himself. Although I would rewrite every word, the fact that criticizing Sabato, often senselessly, has become an Olympic sport doesn’t sit well with me. The same people who praised Kim Jones, found Daniel Lee’s creative streak fantastic, or admired Maria Grazia Chiuri’s collections, for some reason, are now competing to take shots at the Gucci designer. This attitude is highly problematic because it reflects an industry press that, instead of expressing itself freely, finds its only moments of apparent truth-telling when talking about weak subjects involved in extremely complicated projects.

But this also applies to the social media crowd, which, in the deepest indistinction and total lack of judgment tools, pounces on the unfortunate person who is not as aesthetically pleasing as Jacquemus or as protected as Hedi Slimane. De Sarno makes wearable clothes without the intention of creating shocking narratives and, unlike many of his colleagues, does not lie about this not-insignificant detail. The collection that walked the runway at the Triennale was pleasant and well-made but certainly will not change the history of fashion. Just as almost none of the collections seen at this fashion week will change it. This excessive animosity towards him, similar to what erupted almost simultaneously towards his predecessor Alessandro Michele, is sterile, useless, and deceitful.

If fashion produces few contents, it is also because there is no longer any dialogue, even conflicting, between brands and writers, between designers and journalists. The power’s weight lies entirely with the investors, and criticism has dissolved forever in the lines of newspapers that no one will read. In this exhausting scenario, De Sarno’s project seems to bring things back to their place, without obsessions for victory or fears of defeat. It is refreshing but also necessary.

VALENTINO RESORT 2025

The magical power of soberness that has influenced fashion in the last two years has sensitized our eyes. Too much sudden light can be blinding, like when you step out of a dark room and need a few seconds to readjust to seeing people’s faces. Alessandro Michele’s first collection for Valentino, while within recognizable aesthetic parameters, is not the same as his work for Gucci (take another look at Twinsburg). We are the ones who have changed, and with us, the meaning of creative freedom, reinterpretation of heritage, personal vision, and identity. Right or wrong, Michele’s emotional impact today is more complex, and taking the time to go through 189 photos to piece together a coherent picture in our minds is challenging. What was easy has become complicated for many reasons, including the overload of negative information from the world. For the first time in his professional life, Alessandro had in his hands a dense and deep archive, and he studied it in minute detail with the eye of an archaeologist, reconnecting in a totally philological way with the spirit of Valentino, while also finding the roots of his own aesthetic obsessions: that moment between the ’60s and ’70s when Italian decorativism conquered the world. It is a complex operation that will take time but brings back to the center of the fashion discourse uncomfortable, heavy, and difficult questions that have long gone unanswered.

MAGLIANO

Going to a Luca Magliano fashion show is an experience akin to going to the theater, seeing a great film at the cinema, or attending an excellent concert. No one makes you wait 20 minutes in line to let Korean celebrities in first, you’re not squashed on a bench but seated on a chair, you don’t feel forgotten among a hundred journalists but know you were invited because you’re important to them, and you’re not left thirsty as someone offers you a fresh chinotto. More than anything else, you feel like you’re in a protected place where a diverse community of people has gathered not to see or judge someone’s work but to support it, to care for it, like you do with beloved artists whose music you listen to constantly because it feels like they’re speaking to you, about you.

Magliano, as someone told me right after the show, is simply a designer. He doesn’t have to reinterpret any heritage, doesn’t have million-dollar revenue targets, urgent marketing needs, or Asian markets to bow down to. He is one of the few designers who has written his name on the clothing label, and this simple gesture is disarmingly sincere, revolutionary. Season after season, his language becomes more confident, his poetic attitude deeper. But what sets him apart from many of his colleagues, including the likable Martine Rose who came to show in Milan but forgot to invite half the press, is that he focuses on the product, expressing increasingly dense content each time, as only an Italian who literally lives within a company can do. This company that has given him a home and embraced him for years is called Ter et Bantine, and it is not just a manufacturer but an example of how the concept of Made in Italy can only work through people.

Magliano has also found an intelligent financier named Edoardo di Luzio, and this magical planetary alignment allows one of the greatest Italian talents of recent years to exist. Here is the recipe for saving the fashion world: the union of minds and hearts that understand, respect, and go in the same direction.

DOLCE & GABBANA

The path of Dolce & Gabbana seems to be one of redemption, in the Christian sense of the word: not just liberation from sins but an elevation of spirit and body. After being long-time champions of excess and decorativeness, as well as a certain type of over-the-top lifestyle, the most famous and also most criticized duo (even by me) in Italian fashion has chosen to self-limit, abandoning, at least on the runway, references to a festive but sometimes also artificial Italian identity. This is an exercise that Heidegger would have greatly appreciated, as he spoke of the necessity of limits to recover the sense of reality. And this is precisely what happened today on Viale Piave: the almost total lack of narrative sounded like an antidote to the instability, chaos, and senselessness of this historical moment. The clothes breathed a passion for the product but also an attitude of humility, a desire to rebuild from the ground up. In the background, there were no mandolins but an almost monotonous music with the same pair of pants repeated on the runway 59 times. The sin from which Dolce & Gabbana have sought to liberate us is not, of course, the embodiment of the Christian devil but the oppressive attitude of today’s fashion that seems to preclude any form of structural, physical, and cultural renewal. One of the possible recipes is the elimination of all pretence of all superstructures. At the Metropol, everything was real. And today, truth is one of the most powerful tools for returning to life.

FENDI

I have long admired Silvia Fendi’s work and her clear, conscious vision of luxury. Being born into such a significant family has never distracted her from reaching the essence of things. This is why my reaction to this collection was one of astonishment, perhaps even frustration. Fendi currently seems to have direction issues, partly due to persistent rumors of Kim Jones’s departure and partly because it is part of the world’s largest luxury group, which is facing tough times. The entire fashion industry seems to need a deep rethinking, but as Imran Amed noted on BOF, LVMH is struggling more than most. Besides Fendi, Dior is showing disappointing results, Hedi Slimane appears to be leaving Celine, Givenchy and Berluti lack creative direction, and Vuitton is impressive with Pharrell’s men’s line but weak with Guesquière’s women’s line. This affects Fendi’s strategic choices and, consequently, this collection, which, despite marking the start of the Maison’s 100th-anniversary celebrations, felt tired, repetitive, and soulless. If Fendi’s inability to respond to the crisis were its only problem, we might not worry and simply wait for better times. But it’s not. Silvia Fendi’s eyes at the end of the show conveyed a sense of helplessness that extended far beyond the brand her grandmother founded. Perhaps they were trying to find a way out of this sticky, immobile, frightening darkness. It seems that no one sees the light right now, and, upon reflection, continuing to navigate as Silvia is doing might be a clever survival strategy.

MOSCHINO

Adrian Appiolaza’s task is only seemingly easy. Over time, the image of Moschino and Italian aesthetics have merged, and almost everyone thinks that walking around with a printed shirt featuring ducks is normal here. It isn’t. To assert this simple truth, Appiolaza, a great fashion connoisseur and collector, has brought Moschino’s message to the ground, among ordinary people, who do not run home laughing with their shopping bags, much less go to McDonald’s on roller skates.

While Franco’s work was a ruthless critique of the consumer society of the 80s, Adrian’s work is a painful reflection on the fact that critique of reality in fashion almost no longer exists. But his perspective is not triumphant like Demna’s. On the contrary, it is sorrowful, and speaks of a society that is asleep, without poetry, without ethics. Even though the men’s collection was much more successful than the women’s, Appiolaza’s path is clear: it does not take root in the optimism the world recognizes in us but tells of a structural weakness, of the country and the companies, that have lost the desire to tell stories. A difficult path, which seems almost impossible for a brand universally recognized as a healthy bearer of joy but incredibly intelligent.

This is a beginning, but if there is a place to start reflecting on what it means to be Italian, that place is Moschino.

PARIS WOMEN’S AW 24

VALENTINO

Pierpaolo Piccioli and his team design clothes. They don’t create endless mood boards to assemble Frankenstein collections made of various pieces; instead, clearly, they conduct a lot of research and then move on to drawing. Today, this approach is not the norm; it’s a rarity. This type of design method, typical of the pre-social media era, is evident in the brand’s consistently evolving results. Valentino looks like Valentino, and although some might think this indicates a lack of creative imagination, it actually signifies a powerful assertion of a unique identity with a style recognizable from miles away. For this collection—black in every detail—Piccioli has stripped down the language he has constructed, not to revert to a minimalism that has nothing to do with the brand, but to bring the essence of design to the forefront and to state that only through drawing can certain expressive levels be achieved.

In this presentation, bodies rather than garments stood out, tracing a journey from the monastic to the nearly nude, focusing—much like the previous collection—on exploring the meanings of eroticism, physicality, and nudity, and how these concepts interface with the world today. Unlike his colleague Vaccarello, for Piccioli, the nude female body represents a laborious point of arrival, not an effortless starting point. Its revelation is troubled, perhaps even painful, but the narrative that emerges is pure, glaring in its clarity. The body mirrors our essence and should be covered or unveiled without fear, shaping the perception others have of us without eliciting judgment or denial, but perhaps only admiration. The ease with which complexity is handled forms Valentino’s strength, a mature, adult concept that demands patience, bravery, and extensive experience.

BALENCIAGA

If you walk around a mall on Saturday, you’ll see groups of fifteen-year-olds in black tracksuits, caps, sneakers, and black glasses. That kind of aesthetic descends directly from the work of Demna, who is simply one of the most relevant designers of his generation, having captured and represented the sense of unease of all the Gen Zs in the world. The problem is that the dream is over, destroyed by a couple of teddy bears dressed in leather and a bunch of conspiracy theorist idiots that many have taken seriously. Balenciaga’s sharp blade of social criticism has lost its keen precision and now launches sword slashes towards the sky that no longer interests anyone. Even though this collection demonstrates how brilliant Demna is in confronting reality, re-reading it, and spitting it back out in new and sensible clothes, his magic touch is no longer there, even if it’s not his fault. The fundamental fact is that it should be understood that talent is an inconvenient and hardly manageable thing, difficult to categorize, and you cannot turn on and off the disturbance coefficient that fills it. This is the real problem with fashion today. Everyone knows that strong personalities lead to significant profits, but at the same time, the distress of dealing with them becomes more palpable and concrete. There’s no definitive answer to this Hamletian dilemma, but it’s essential to acknowledge that fashion mainly thrives on creativity and profound narrative depth. It feels like I’m echoing the same sentiments repeatedly, yet I worry that this notion remains elusive to many.

MCQUEEN

Seán McGirr, the new creative director of McQueen, comes from the school of J. W. Anderson, someone who builds collections piece by piece and is not really interested in thematic narratives. On the other hand, Lee McQueen thrived on theatre and dramatization; for him, storytelling was essential; every appearance was a character in his fantastic mental movie. This is the only big difference between the two, and if one thinks what the much-criticized McGirr did is not respectful of the brand’s founder, it simply sufficed not to choose him. In reality, the collection, cold, ungrammatical, and hyperrealist, does make sense because, in a still vague way, it speaks of peripheral subjects, of an unsettling aesthetic, and drastically moves away from Sarah Burton’s cocktail dresses for Long Island billionaires, which certainly were very far from McQueen’s thought. Kering should reflect on whether its habit of seeking new unknown designers should not be complemented with a deeper, perhaps more rational reflection. McGirr is talented but has nothing to do with McQueen. This could lead to two things: the failure of the project or the gradual distancing from the brand’s original identity. In both cases, at this moment, the risk seems very high, and I wonder if there’s a need for it or if, instead, the times are ripe to work on a type of continuity that traces the narrative threads of the past and ties them together, instead of cutting them.

RABANNE

After ten years at the helm of Rabanne with good commercial success, Julien Dossena has decided to explore the territory of his mentor, Nicolas Guesquière and take the liberty to leave behind the Maison’s heritage. With the help of super stylist Marie Amelie Sauvè—Nicolas’s right-hand woman at Vuitton for years—Dossena worked on an idea of aesthetic chaos with roots in the ’80s that is very close to how cool young people dress. Unlike designers such as Marine Serre, the experiment is nothing intellectual but refreshes the memory of everyone who has forgotten that pleasant clothes can be designed without monastic inspirations or overtly bourgeois influences. Some would say there’s a grunge in this collection. Not in the literal sense but in the way Dossena intelligently does not attempt to clean up, to make it sterile and domesticated, but represents something very close to reality. The path of realism is indeed challenging, and those who profess their interest lies not in narrative but in the product are not the ones genuinely pursuing it. Instead, it is pursued by those who recognize it as a path filled with the risk of falsifications and the need to circumvent obstacles. Now standing in stark contrast to its founder’s esthetic, Rabanne has chosen to reconnect with the streets, breathing new life into a practice that has nearly disappeared from modern fashion. This leap into the here and now appears very interesting precisely because most designers dwell in the ‘elsewhere’, a concept that, as appealing as it may seem, actually causes one to lose sight of sincerity. Or actually, the truth.

CHLOÉ

Chloé is one of the few brands with such a precise identity that it becomes problematic for those who take on its creative direction. Even Chemena Kamali, despite her experience in cultivating a sense of sexiness over the years at Saint Laurent, found herself embracing the boho chic look, a term invented by someone probably in an Upstate New York mansion to make sense of pairing jeans with a folk lace shirt. Her effort and craftsmanship were visible, but the result, aside from some bold transparencies that seemed to take on a vaguely feminist meaning in that context, was not a profound reinterpretation of the brand but rather a pleasant and safe reflection on its history. Gaby Aghion, the brand’s founder, is said to have invented the term prêt-à-porter, together with Lagerfeld in the 1970s, significantly contributing to the creation of a type of clothing that was less expensive but equally rich in content, erasing a couple of centuries of high fashion dominance in a stroke. Her idea of democratizing fashion—a particularly interesting topic today—could have led Kamali towards less common and more courageous territories, making the brand more flexible without denying its identity. However, today, when a designer sits down at the drawing table, especially burdened with reviving a brand’s relevance, I imagine they spend hours contemplating before making any decision, paralyzed by the fear of making a mistake. Mistakes are not allowed today (I’ll discuss this with McQueen); everyone wants positive sales results and rising Lyst indices. In reality, fortunately, the creative index is not measurable, and even if it seems to become less comprehensible every day, it is the only real reason people buy clothes. And I think this will continue to be the case even if all the marketing departments worldwide would like the opposite.

MILAN WOMEN’S AW 24

MARCO RAMBALDI

As emerging talents like Cormio, Andrea Adamo, and Act n.1 opt out of the runway this season, Marco Rambaldi not only persisted in his creative journey but also showcased a remarkable evolution. His sincere and disarming nature has fostered a level of maturity that’s first and foremost evident in the product itself. In an era fixated on digital existence, Rambaldi’s designs emerge as poetically tangible and real due to his attention to detail, technical skill, thorough research, and profound depth. Moving away from his collections’ colourful yet somewhat improvised beginnings, Marco, this time, has meticulously crafted each piece, honouring the Italian tradition of product construction and no longer resembling a child playing in the yard. It’s a huge step forward that only lacks a more attentive narrative capability and a more believable story, which, in this case, location and music did not help. If we have to think of a young designer with the ability to take the creative direction of a major brand into their hands, his name certainly comes to mind. I get the impression that the coming years for Marco will be as bright as his eyes were, teary right after the show.

ETRO

Marco de Vincenzo has internalized all the iconic elements of Etro and has begun to narrate how this prestigious yet monolithic brand can adopt a contemporary language without forgetting its past. In this case, being contemporary isn’t just about dressing the next star for the red carpet; instead, it’s about, in a much more complex way, becoming understandable to those who have distanced themselves from the brand due to its perceived outdatedness. The bridge that De Vincenzo built with contemporary Italian music is an extraordinary example of this effort, and this time, the soundtrack by the young artist Miglio narrated a poetic modernity that mirrors the very essence on which Etro now relies. De Vincenzo is a storyteller, almost in the literal sense of the term, and he insists on reiterating it every time because the strength of authors is also that of rewriting old parables and making them modern. Etro is now a project that speaks to everyone, is open and accessible, and has the potential, given the precise characteristics of the product, to grow infinitely. I advise delving deeper into the connection with Italian music, creating a community, and perhaps organizing a festival. Let De Vincenzo’s vision be more than a biannual event; let it be a platform for exchange. This brand, after all, was born from the fusion of distant textile traditions and collaborations with Italian fashion’s brightest minds, maintaining authenticity at its core.

DIESEL

The remarkable work done by Glenn Martens for Diesel demonstrates that brands can be reshaped, redefined, and revitalized by allowing time for authorship. Despite the challenges it may present, Martens’ aesthetic has wholeheartedly embraced Diesel, with a profound recognition and awareness of the brand’s history. Renzo Rosso, who now appears to be one of Italy’s most enlightened fashion entrepreneurs, has granted him this opportunity—the same applies to Marni and Jil Sander. The demonstration that the method works is that the OTB Group closed 2022 with a +14% turnover, something luxury conglomerates can only dream of. The only element absent from this flawless formula is that Diesel must completely reconsider its retail approach to align the new vision with the shopping experience. It’s time to move away from catering to sixty-year-olds in search of ripped jeans; instead, spaces should be crafted as hubs for a community that flourishes online but finds it challenging to connect with physical locations. Perhaps a store could serve as a venue for dining, studying, listening to music, or watching old movies. A space of hospitality and empathy where commercial concerns take a back seat. This is particularly crucial since today’s youth lack such environments. Fiorucci pioneered such a revolution in the 1970s. Perhaps Diesel, with its influence, could replicate this achievement.

FENDI

The Peekaboo, Fendi’s bestselling bag, is divided into two perfectly symmetrical and equal parts. One can be left open to reveal what one wants to share about oneself, while the other remains closed, delineating the private. A metal bar in the middle adds a magical balance to the bag. It’s hard not to recognize a narrative metaphor of female identity, balancing work and family, and the constant search for equilibrium between extremes. It’s a bag but also a manifesto with a powerful symbolic framework created by Silvia Venturini Fendi and Marco de Vincenzo. Strangely, Fendi’s clothing department (except for everything designed by Silvia) has always struggled to express deep narratives, almost as if the garments were conceived as accessories to the bags. After all, Lagerfeld was always and only a great narrator of himself. Even Kim Jones has failed to build his vision and has slowly settled into beautiful, clean, and neutral collections. I believe the underlying problem is that Fendi is a brand invented, managed, and brought to success by women, and that somehow prevents men from accessing the deeper layers of its existence and history. I believe the underlying problem is that Fendi is a brand invented, managed, and brought to success by women, and that somehow prevents men from accessing the deeper layers of its essence and history.
This is a powerful matriarchy that actually doesn’t need men. In a world where female empowerment is incessantly discussed, there are likely no brands as deeply feminine as Fendi. Perhaps this aspect, which tends to be forgotten, should be acknowledged and emphasized. And, of course, admired.

MOSCHINO

Do you remember Alessandro Michele’s first Gucci fashion show, which was prepared in just a few months and made history for forever changing the fashion world? It’s very likely that this first collection by Adrian Appiolaza for Moschino, also prepared in very little time, could follow the same destiny because, yes, it was revolutionary. Appiolaza delved into the Maison’s archive, bringing out many of the iconic pieces, but instead of attempting to reinterpret them, he presented them almost identically, with a charmingly Dadaist attitude. With a light touch, Moschino’s new creative director avoided homage, nostalgia, revisiting, remembering, and regret. By moving the distinctive marks of the most irreverent Italian designers to a place without emotionality, forced ironies, or Gloria Gaynor in the background, Moschino’s bright value system returned to life, and its objects, prints, and writings regained meaning. Crushed by decades of stereotypes, Franco’s messages had lost all meaning, becoming empty phrases or commercial expedients. But now they have been reborn with Adrian—the word “peace” on the jerseys means peace again. I rarely get excited about a fashion show anymore. Still, tonight at La Permanente, I had the distinct feeling that a new door had opened, letting in a light and fragrant breeze—something we all desperately need, which is essentially the hope that things can change. Things have changed tonight, and seeing what happens next will be wonderful.

BLUMARINE

And so, as expected, someone begins to thunder against quiet bourgeois luxury. Adrian Appiolaza did it for Moschino, and Walter Chiapponi did it, in an even more radical way, for Blumarine. Delving into a brand associated with a vibrant, airy, and somewhat excessively sweet aesthetic could have dangerously pulled it onto a risky ground, leading to a fate of superficiality, two-dimensionality, and, to some extent, nonsense. On the contrary, Chiapponi employed the freezing and nihilistic gaze of the 1990s to subject the delicate flowers, ruffles, and typical Blumarine transparencies to a survival test. Rather than emerging weaker, they emerged stronger and likely gained a sense they had never previously possessed. The sensation of exhaustion, pain, and abandonment that permeated each look reintroduced an element of sincerity and truth often absent in the fashion world.
Without embellishments, excessive design, or overdoing it, Walter has portrayed the world as it currently stands, as well as his inner world and that of all of us who desperately need friendship, warmth, and love rather than just clothing. We need true stories to believe in, and the memory of Davide Renne imprinted on Walter’s shirt reminded us how life can flood into work without overwhelming it, on the contrary, making it more authentic.

GUCCI

Sabato De Sarno mentioned that he is not interested in storytelling, theming, or runway performances. What matters to him is the product, quality, detail, and wearability—in a word, reality, or rather, a garment’s ability to actualize in the world. This is a serious and respectable viewpoint but also highly debatable. Narration means conceiving a project around a story, a protagonist, or an action that concludes with a transformation. A film, a book, or a television series are all the more interesting when their narrative scope explores spaces we do not know and leaves us better off than how we started. Even a runway show can achieve this, and there are countless examples.
I can mention Prada as the ultimate example of distorting reality and its way of delivering it back to us in a deeper, more inhabitable form. The two approaches are antithetical, but what’s interesting is that they do not exclude each other; in fact, they seek integration. Gucci’s narrative-less world can undoubtedly survive and thrive, but it misses out on the significant opportunity to transform a brand into a narrative subject—granting it a strength it otherwise would not have. Telling stories isn’t merely a tactic to blur consciences or aid marketing efforts; it can also be a powerful tool for change and for building a community around a value system—a system of recognition and appreciation. I believe this is the immense challenge awaiting De Sarno and Gucci, one they will have to confront, willingly or not, sooner or later.

PRADA

A black silk crepe dress adorned with pressed silk bows, worn over a slip with Deco embroidery and military boots. A heavy woollen male jacket worn over a light embroidered linen dress with an apron of the same wool in the form of pressed male trousers. A silk slip with soft pink shearling applications. An evening dress in a patchwork of recycled jacquard nylon. Prada presented not just a runway show but a monument to complexity, asserting that linear narratives are obsolete in contemporary times. Within it were references to early feminist tailors of the late nineteenth century, pre-Nazi decoration, and the era of wartime militarism. Additionally, it explored themes of intimate revelation, bourgeois elegance and its unsettling domination. It seemed like an impossible encyclopedia of twentieth-century fashion history, devoid of nostalgia, but instead driven by a voracious desire to construct new landscapes to dwell unrestrained. Miuccia and Raf have chosen to elevate their narrative significantly, making an explosive statement about the essence of being a designer and emphasizing the central role of reflecting on reality. I hadn’t seen something so beautiful, sensible, and coherent in years.
As I looked through those magnificent garments, fashion felt like a space once again deserving of respect, a workshop to construct the future, a vast room infused with the most evocative scent: hope.

BOTTEGA VENETA

Strangely, this fashion week has led me to discuss methods more than content. And that’s a good thing—perhaps some schools will decide to include a serious course on design methodology in their curriculum. Matthieu Blazy at Bottega Veneta doesn’t trace grand narratives or make explicit references. His work delves into individual garments, analyzing and then deconstructing them, sometimes stripping them of their original meaning. A shirt remains a shirt but has exaggerated volume and stripes in hallucinatory colours, giving it an obsessive character. Another shirt with a mass of rigid organza feathers transforms into an evening gown that sways gracefully and romanticly. This is an open-heart surgery with the risk that the patient may die each time, but Blazy doesn’t care about this possibility because he grants himself the power of a demiurge, the freedom to say what he wants. With this collection, he has approached everyday life, and while the result may seem more straightforward, the design process has been more profound. The objects are less flamboyant than usual but demonstrate how this method can produce stunning garments far from mediocrity. Perhaps this sense of reconciliation led Blazy to take on a gigantic challenge: surpassing the historical block of woven leather to propose bags in smooth leather—going back to before 1975, the year of the introduction of the iconic weave. In this case, too, the past becomes elastic, a realm of knowledge rather than terror, a piece of the recipe for rebirth. At Bottega Veneta, they fear nothing, and the project succeeds because, beneath the solidity of tradition, they allow the chaos of creativity to flow freely.

MARNI

As previously mentioned, exceptional outcomes are only achieved when focusing on the method. Francesco Risso ventured into a white cavern of nothingness, not to discover the hidden essence of things or indulge in a self-imposed hermitage but to contemplate contemporary fashion and its ties to the industry and the market. The show was distinctly divided into two parts: the first was radically minimalist, cold, and industrial, while the second was instinctive, artisanal, and human. I believe Risso is conveying that his seemingly iconoclastic and artistic approach does not contradict market principles; instead, it underscores the importance of the human touch in creating objects imbued with meaning, even if fabricated by machines and replicated endlessly. This isn’t a clash between civilization and nature ‘à la Thoreau’. Instead, it’s an amalgamation of factors contributing to a functional project. There’s no anonymity here, no avoidance of judgment. Risso’s stance is highly political and addresses a crisis-ridden system that fails to recognize people’s desires and churns out collections devoid of history. His solution lies in the human element, which is rationally diluted within a brand that before him only represented happiness and well-being. Times of crisis lead to deep reflections, and this time, Risso expressed profound, constructive, regenerative thoughts.

SS24 REVIEWS

VALENTINO SS24

With one of the most successful collections since taking the helm at Valentino, Pierpaolo Piccioli has demonstrated to everyone that reducing doesn’t mean taking away meaning but, if anything, amplifying it. Working with almost none of the typical colours and decoration associated with Valentino, Piccioli developed a cut-out technique, which he referred to as “alto-rilievo,” effectively transforming fabrics into pieces of jewellery that, when combined, give a radically new meaning to the word embroidery. This is what a couture house should do: transport dusty archives and techniques into the present, keeping them alive while imbuing them with new significance. It should also demonstrate that even the seemingly simplest garment contains a mastery not found in places lacking this kind of culture.

However, the issues with this runway show were the visually heavy location and FKA Twigs’ dance performance, which overwhelmed and diverted attention from the meticulous work on the garments. Perhaps this collection deserved to be showcased in a white cube or a cherry blossom forest, emphasising its simplicity or enhancing its understated romanticism. It seems that lately, the Valentino team enjoys working in vast spaces with extravagant and sometimes unfocused cultural references when they should simply embrace the idea that the brand’s extraordinariness lies in its ability to make the everyday extraordinary. In other words, to turn something seemingly simple into an immortal object. There’s no need for artifice to tell that story—just a bit of space and a lot of light.

BALENCIAGA SS24

It is very difficult to explain what Demna has done with this Balenciaga collection. To be extremely concise, one might say he managed to speak of hope. By gathering friends and important people in his life, from his mother (the first exit) to his husband (the final exit in an upcycled wedding dress), and even the influential fashion critic Cathy Horyn, he decided to candidly address what is close to his heart, what he believes in, and what drives him.

Isabelle Huppert’s voice, reciting a sartorial treatise from the early 20th century in a disjointed manner, was a clear reference to the collective obsession with sartorial simplification. It was a way to reject it, to say that it cannot be an escape route or a means of reconstruction. On the other hand, the garments, seemingly simple but actually layered, aged, destroyed, or recycled, represented Demna abandoning the path of correctness and returning to speak of darkness, of difference, of the splendour of individual personalities, of truth.

Demna is the great demiurge who fights the system from within the system. He is the error that the matrix cannot erase, a precious source of truth that once again manages to remain beyond control. Those who, like me, were moved by seeing a hero rise again after being torn apart by the forces of evil had the deep conviction that in the world, not only in fashion, there are voices with such devastating power that no one ever, will be able to silence them. Today is a beautiful day.

SCHIAPPARELLI SS24

According to affaritaliani.it, the latest financial report filed by Interbasic Holding, the company owned by Diego della Valle that owns Schiaparelli, shows a loss of 20 million euros, despite an annual revenue of 1.8 million euros. This is not exactly a picture of a thriving business; in fact, it’s likely the description of a rather unsuccessful journey that began in 2010 with the acquisition of the brand. The main problem undoubtedly lies in the creative direction of Daniel Roseberry, who, despite embarking on an interesting exploratory journey into maximalism with haute couture, seems to lack the ability to ground the brand’s symbolic heritage. This dissatisfaction is strongly evident in the ready-to-wear collections, which struggle to translate the fireworks, oriented toward the red carpet, from the haute couture collections into commercial terms.

Behind Roseberry, there is, of course, a malfunctioning corporate mechanism that struggles incredibly to work with Roseberry’s overflowing imagination. Schiaparelli is a very mysterious project with strong media appeal, and perhaps that’s the only reason it interests its owner. Yet, this is one of the brands with the deepest legacy in the entire history of fashion, and in fact, envisioning a simple black jacket with ribcage bones in slight relief doesn’t seem like such a complicated task. But everyone, including Zanini and Guyon before Roseberry, drowned in the stormy sea of signs left by Elsa, unable to control it. Who knows if a pair of female eyes, instead of male ones, could achieve the miracle?

RICK OWENS SS24

“I Still Believe (In Love)” by Diana Ross, played on repeat across the vast expanse of the Palais de Tokyo, served as an obsessive soundtrack of Rick Owens’s show. It was a sonic backdrop and a signpost towards a possible path for facing the future. This revelation naturally came from one of the few genuine auteurs remaining in the world of fashion.

Emerging from the profound darkness of a personal battle against mainstream culture, a post-apocalyptic vision comprising black, sex, and pain, Rick Owens resurfaced with violent splashes of colour and ethereal fabrics. These elements spoke of a somewhat antiquated concept: romanticism. Romanticism, with its nostalgic yearnings, tear-filled eyes, and impassioned hearts, was a revolutionary movement that shattered the male chauvinist and bellicose rationalism of the 19th century. It reintroduced poetry as a fundamental element of survival and placed affection at the core of storytelling.

Rick Owens mirrored this spirit, charting a course out of the darkness with one of his most exquisite collections to date. Beyond the massive mountain of bourgeois minimalism, there exists the possibility of breathing anew, infused with fresh inspiration, brimming with colour, joy, bodies, masquerade dances, and tears of passion. It’s a marvellous equilibrium between the power of darkness and the optimism of light. As Byron once said, “And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.”

UNDERCOVER SS24

Jun Takahashi has covered each piece of his Undercover collection with an extremely thin layer of tulle, almost like a shroud. This may serve the purpose of seeing the collection more clearly and, in a sense, a clearer reflection of ourselves. He has contemplated the significance of clothing in today’s context, even going so far as to enclose live butterflies within skirts to remind us of the human element. This human element represents a wholly Western construct of attire, one that aligns with contemporary criteria of necessity.

His approach is characterised by an emotional connection to universal and personal history. We encounter flowers, prints from his paintings, embroidery, and various colours in this collection, which, instead of agitating our senses or adopting a circus-like flamboyance, have a calming effect. It’s like when we pause to appreciate a magnificent painting, perfectly framed and displayed against a reassuring white wall.

Undercover is a brand that consistently operates outside conventional commercial norms and stands as one of the few brands offering insights into what lies ahead. While its vision may not be entirely reassuring, it is undeniably reconstructive. There’s no attempt to erase the past; instead, nostalgia finds an essential place within it. To reconcile with our culture, we must examine it, acknowledge its value, and perhaps grant ourselves forgiveness for our past errors.

Jun Takahashi’s work, characterised by a delicate layer of tulle, allows us to discern a dense layer of life beneath it clearly. It’s contained, momentarily arrested, and seemingly trapped, yet undeniably alive.

SAINT LAURENT SS24

And even at Saint Laurent, we have decided to set aside storytelling and take refuge, for the moment, in the tranquillity of a poplin cotton safari jacket repeated endlessly. As we reach a point where runway show reviews are becoming interchangeable, we wonder if everything we have learned so far about how fashion operates is correct. Perhaps the truth is that the mechanism is finding a different form of balance, one where the product is the expression of a rational commercial approach, and meaning is subsequently constructed through communication.

In fact, this approach has always been the norm for many brands until the 1990s when mega-designers like McQueen, Galliano, and Margiela introduced runway shows aimed at generating collective excitement in order to break away from the prevailing sense of boredom. However, Those runway shows drugged the fashion scene for a long time, making it dependent on visual upheaval, dramatic twists, and completely reliant on often brilliant but uncontrollable personalities.

Now, there appears to be a normalisation of discourse and a deliberate simplification of the message, ensuring that the product you see corresponds to what you actually buy.  Final customers need it, but super brands need it even more to emerge unscathed from this state of apparent calm. After all, if you think about it, these safari jackets are stunning and wearable objects. They neither add nor subtract anything from the work of Vaccarello or Saint Laurent and if we feel the need for excitement, we can always listen to Mahler’s Adagietto from the Fifth Symphony. Perhaps with headphones so as not to disturb anyone.

PRADA SS24

Miuccia Prada has found her successor in Raf Simons and bid farewell to her “adoptive son”, Fabio Zambernardi. Surprisingly, this transition resulted in their most successful collection since the new magical duo was formed.

There are numerous ways to work through subtraction. Still, in this context, there appears to be a kind of magical recipe for turning the ordinary into the exceptional and the everyday into the extraordinary. This recipe involves deconstructing the product to its very core and then reconstructing it joyfully, along with a significant renewal of meaning.

Raf Simons has come to understand that Prada is a project centred around meticulous attention to detail. It’s about choosing a slightly thicker thread than usual or a print that may seem familiar but is, in fact, entirely novel. This approach involves building from the inside, breaking free from the stale rules of the product, yet ultimately producing precisely that: the product.

Miuccia, on the other hand, has learned that the northern chill can work wonders for a brand that needs synthesis, rationality, and lightning. Together, they’ve become a solid team, shaping Prada’s future. In this process, both of them have made sacrifices. He sacrificed his instinct for drama while she let go of someone who was almost like a son to her. They did so consciously, understanding that sometimes, by relinquishing certain parts of ourselves – much like pruning dead branches from a plant – we can allow ourselves to be reborn, to endure longer, and to bring more happiness to everyone else. This process is called sacrifice, and it’s a display of intelligence. It’s an extraordinary recipe that many others should take to heart.

GUCCI SS24

I left the Gucci fashion show deeply disappointed, perhaps even a bit angry. I decided not to attend any more shows today and to walk back home to give myself time to collect my thoughts. Because this was an important event that deserved serious reflection. What we saw from Gucci was not a nostalgic reflection on the past or a futuristic tale of the future. It was a description of the present. Or perhaps, better put, a reaction to the present.

In the midst of uncertain horizons, schizophrenic markets, and a terrifying sense of uncertainty, Sabato de Sarno constructed a collection full of clear certainties, a widespread and reassuring sense of understandable elegance, an everyday vision easily digestible by the masses of double-G buyers. What everyone expected and indeed got. The question now is whether it’s right for fashion today to have the sole task of describing and no longer imagining alternative worlds, possible paths of rebirth, change, and resurrection.

Is it right for fashion not to be a place where doubts emerge anymore, where we try to peel away the smooth surface of things, but rather a place where everyone waits together for the storm to pass before resuming sailing? I don’t have an answer, but what I feel is not enthusiasm or hope. It’s a kind of subtle and amorphous desolation that comes to those who would like to see explosions, fireworks, beating hearts. Today at Gucci, hearts weren’t beating. And I wonder whether this is the sole means of preserving our hearts or if, hidden somewhere, there exist others—more audacious, more untamed, and ultimately, more courageous.

BOTTEGA VENETA SS24

Carol Christian Poell, one of the absolute geniuses in the re-conceptualization of craftsmanship in fashion, told us, just before arriving at Bottega Veneta, that Italian craftsmanship is disappearing, bent under predatory market logics, and that we should do something to preserve our immense heritage very quickly. The response to his profound cry of pain has come clear from the most successful collection Matthieu Blazy has created for Bottega Veneta. Each outfit could be the subject of a small treatise, given the complexity of the work on craftsmanship and manual skills. Exploring centuries-old techniques and bringing them together in a balanced discourse, without sentimentality or obviousness, is the impossible task that Blazy seems to perform with less and less effort each time, building a world made up of very different pieces that convey an image of peace rather than chaos. This time, unlike the first three collections, the gaze has expanded from Italy to the entire world, and references from all parts of the planet have come together in a powerful message of peace. If there is a way to rethink the very concept of elegance centuries-old and clash it with the hands and culture of those who invisibly sew, embroider, cut, or paint, it is this. If it is possible to save fashion itself from its agonising need to endlessly self-reproduce, it is this. Bottega Veneta’s objects are small precious jewels to be cherished, observed, and loved as we cherish, observe, and love the letter of an old master that we find in our hands, pulling it out from old drawers. A master who told us that our task in the world is to respect its richness, to share its knowledge, to make it more beautiful. In a word, to love it.

FENDI SS24

Decadence seems to be the central theme of this Milan Fashion Week. The uncontrollable gossip about who will leave from where and who will take their place has reached unprecedented levels. Among the impressive whirlwind of changing seats on the horizon, there are also rumours that this was Kim Jones’ last show for Fendi. This anxious and indistinct chatter among industry insiders is making the fashion week feel more like a day at the horse races than a series of runway shows for the upcoming summer.

Under a grey sky, pouring rain, and an uncertain horizon, Fendi, however, presented something beautiful and reassuring, perhaps not optimistic but certainly balanced, practical, and pleasant. Whether it’s true or not that Kim Jones is stepping aside for someone else, there was an air of stability at Fendi. It’s as if in this stormy moment when all the world’s brands are struggling, the recipe for moving forward, the only possible recipe, is to focus on creating everyday, wearable products without overthinking. It’s as if the wonderful artisanal machine of a brand about to turn 100 years old can weather any storm thanks to the work, care, and craftsmanship of the many people who have worked there for years.

Decadence is when the current system of ideas becomes unusable but not yet replaceable with a new one. Perhaps everything will change, both at Fendi and in the rest of the fashion world. Still, the invisible, all-Italian machine that manufactures the product will always be there, accompanying change without disruptions, without violence, with evident and immense love.

CAVALLI SS24

In a moment that we can rightfully refer to as a “restoration,” not only in the context of the complex global political situation but also in fashion, there are fortunately territories that couldn’t care less about quiet luxury. One such territory is Roberto Cavalli by Fausto Puglisi, which, with unwavering instinct, tells tales of unabashed eroticism and hyper-decorativism – in a word, what everyone wrongly labels as bad taste.

This often judgmental and anxiety-inducing category is, in reality, one of the possible narratives of femininity (and masculinity). While it has existed since the time of the Egyptians, today, more than ever, it doesn’t align with the many brands’ desires for tranquillity. Despite Beyonce and Taylor Swift (both dressed by Puglisi) embodying and popularising this theme, for most of the current fashion world, it’s better to forget about high slits, tight fits, and embellishments because they are considered out of place.

Puglisi stands his ground on the front lines of floral and animalier prints like a lone fighter in a metaphorical conflict between the bourgeoisie and the people, between power and freedom. His collections, carefree, playful, and provocative, have never been so discordant from the rest of the global fashion, and that’s precisely why they should be protected like an endangered species.

This kind of taste, which is essentially an alternative life perspective to the prevailing one, exists and struggles alongside us. It’s hoped that differing viewpoints, sometimes uncomfortable and embarrassing, will continue to remain at odds with the mainstream and express narratives that are less heard, less elegant, yet fiercely alive.

DOLCE & GABBANA SS24

Hidden and shielded behind the idea of a revival of themselves, Dolce and Gabbana have systematically tackled a topic that many have forgotten: eroticism. In times of counter-reform and reaction, one of the few brands in the world that can afford to roam through the vast territories of exhibited sexuality without suffering repercussions from the market (or being afraid of them) is demonstrating that there are alternative discourses to the prevailing ones. Specifically, this collection explores the elegant, and perhaps more perverse, side of eroticism, one that descends directly from Saint Laurent but, in this case, passes through Italian audacity, the liberating belief that conflicts can also be resolved through bodies. Dolce and Gabbana’s story is never one of waiting, of renunciation, of privation, but a narrative of concessions, of skin, of warmth, of pleasure. Working only in black and white, their message is even sharper and more contemporary because it is inscribed within a simple aesthetic that is understandable even to those who don’t know what the 90s were. We live in a country where talking about sexual education in schools is a mortal sin, and in this way, we do not provide the younger generations with the technical and emotional tools to enjoy physical pleasure without worries. Dolce and Gabbana have always conveyed a powerful positive message to those who do not see a hell of frustration in their bodies but a paradise of joy. But also to those who still do not know this simple thing and greatly need a symbolic universe in which to recognise themselves, through which to understand that we are beings made of flesh. And this is fine. It’s beautiful. It’s capable of bringing joy, so much joy.

MARCO RAMBALDI SS24

Young Italian brands (young is an adjective that does not define their identity at all, on the contrary, it is limiting, but there are no better ones) are not in good health. Not so much in terms of commercial results but in terms of visibility and recognition. The responsibility is not generically with the system but with a specific set of co-causes too complex to explain here, ranging from the structure of the fashion show calendar to the lack of attention from investors, to the neglect of the press, especially the Italian one. Those like Marco Rambaldi, who do not give up, are doing a superhuman effort, fighting every day to secure the last roll of fabric needed for production, the last collaboration, the last consultation. With one of the most successful collections of his still short professional life, Rambaldi has not only demonstrated a powerful identity and a recognizable aesthetic but also the tools to face the invisible perfect storm, entirely Italian, that rages against those who try and, as in his case, succeed. The only brand in Milan to tirelessly promote the idea of inclusion of bodies and genders, Marco should be protected like the Javan rhinoceros, of which only 60 specimens remain. And those in power (in the true sense of the word) should wonder how it is possible to allow a system not to die if new births are not nurtured. The ones that, more fragile but beautiful, need protective gazes, friendly hands, and lots and lots of care.

BURBERRY SS24

There are fashion shows on which it is challenging to express a critique, whether positive or negative. The second collection by Daniel Lee for Burberry, presented at London Fashion week, is undoubtedly one of those. Lee has chosen to move away from the over-design of the first season and has focused on portraying a shapeless everyday life that often verges on banality. In this moment of frenzied chaos that all major brands are experiencing due to a complex conjunctural crisis, perhaps his response has been to concentrate on wearable items, reminiscent of what Christopher Bailey used to do when he was in creative direction. Perhaps. Or maybe the anxiety to survive in the markets and demonstrate continuous growth towards infinity instead of pushing into new territories is blocking the innovation mechanism, and collectively, CEOs, designers, marketing directors, and merchandisers have chosen not to choose. It’s a bit like deciding to admire the view of the Titanic as it sinks. In a transitional season, Burberry’s recipe may not be the winning one, but I fear it will be the one followed by almost everyone. Something is entirely absent from fashion at this moment: courage. And if someone doesn’t decide to launch the lifeboats, both the crew and passengers will end up in the icy waters of the Atlantic. And they won’t survive.