MILAN. Brunello Cucinelli describes the pleasures of being “well dressed, but simply dressed” in a design brief that has made him, the son of an Umbrian farmer, a self-made billionaire.
Needless to say, Cucinelli-level simplicity doesn’t come cheap. For an impeccably tailored cotton Cucinelli blazer — one, shall we say, of a crafty new suit-filled collection, resembling a Brooks Brothers seersucker cotton jacket as reimagined for Gianni Agnelli — you can expect to pay $4,000.
You’d think numbers like that would make even an HNWI (wealth manager, slang for a “high net worth individual,” defined as someone with at least $1 million in liquid capital) think twice before slapping American Express Centurion. However, the label’s nascent impact didn’t stop the publicly traded Brunello Cucinelli brand from navigating through the pandemic (after an initial slump during the first shutdown in 2020); expand and open stores in Tokyo, London and New York; or charging into a bear market with bullish confidence.
“Men want to dress again,” Cucinelli said Saturday during a studio presentation in Milan’s Chinatown.
His own money, he added, is on affluent Gen Z consumers, or at least the types of CEOs for whom Cucinelli is their Gap, who want to trade in their Allbirds and hoodies for the kind of tailoring he excels at. the production. “Carefree elegance” is the phrase he prefers to describe the desired effect of his unlined suits that are structured, but not overly constructed; light in appearance, though still plausible in a boardroom; and tonally true to the neutral palette that is the new-rich security default.
That’s not to be confused with “sprezzatura,” that all-too-deliberate bluntness that even Italians rarely pull off successfully. Mr. Agnelli, let’s face it, often looked a bit silly in his impractical denim ski pants, baggy driving shoes, and wristwatches that he wore off his cuffs.
What Mr. Cucinelli was referring to is something universal and rooted in both self-awareness and adherence to protocols of decorum in public spaces that is close to kaput. Can it be restored? It’s hard to say more, and particularly after two years of living on a futon and dressing in waist-high Zoom. Increasing the notion that getting dressed is both a civic and a personal act will take some effort.
However, the multi-colored labels indicated that they were willing to take the risk. In a way, it almost felt like this week in Milan was the men’s version of a Hail Mary pass. Not to dwell on a hackneyed metaphor, but here the designers moved the ball down the field.
In a show held outdoors under mercifully shaded catwalks on the Bocconi University campus, Kean Etro put on what was perhaps the best show of his decades-long career. Designers sell moods and atmospheres as much as clothing, and watch Etro models, many barefoot and with gold toe rings, strutting with concrete ribbon in summer blouses, shorts , shirts with openwork patterns like lace, flowing layers of chiffon, soft suits, everything. in faded colors or dissolving prints, he felt like an extra in one of Luca Guadagnino’s dreamy homages to filmmakers like Michelangelo Antonioni.
Wherever those models were dressed like that, you suddenly wanted to follow them. People often joke about retail therapy. However, there is little appreciation of how effective and necessary a fashionable form of escapism can be.
Does that mean this reviewer is ready to apply for a Versaceworld visa? Probably not. Yet for a brief giddy moment in the palace garden of the 18th-century home, we were transported to another realm as models, improbably carrying Versace urns and vases, or wearing coffee mugs as belt ornaments, strolling through the pebbled walkways alongside rotating columns of mirrors. crowned with gilt busts. Cockamamie classicism, after all, is the signature of a house with the Medusa logo.
You probably couldn’t have found five people in the crowd capable of naming any of the 58 world heritage sites located in Italy. Still, the carvings on the houses conveyed something obviously ancient, like fridge magnets depicting Michelangelo’s David. Needless to say, they are outrageously kitsch. Yet it is in her exuberant acceptance of borderline vulgarity that Donatella Versace finds humor and a sweet spot. The result was a collection of oversized python print trousers, pervy latex trench coats, tailored jackets, men’s rompers and models with hair styled in Roman bust-style waves lacquered with gold glitter.
Giorgio Armani is a designer as steeped in heritage as anyone around him. That he continues to design in his ninth decade is itself a tribute to a traumatic personal history of his as a child of World War II. Mr. Armani got to the mature style of him early on and has rarely deviated from it. Although he shot to success in the 1980s, when the rest of the world discovered his softly tailored designs in the 1980 movie “American Gigolo,” the general pattern of his career has been cautious and methodical. Theme and variation is his working method, and if sometimes this runs the risk of monotony, when you move away you can see that what he is looking for is something durable like a tightly woven basket.
Fittingly, the Emporio Armani collection actually featured subtle woven prints, most notably depicted on a molded rubber Wave shoe with a ruffled texture (think Wookiee Crocs), as well as monochrome suits, summery short suits, drawstring linen pants adjustable with paper bag waistbands, and a jacket with a palm tree painted on it. Aside from a hairstyling misstep that put models of various ethnicities in cornrows, the show seemed well judged for a cultural moment in which consumers, regardless of gender, are taking baby steps backwards in the direction of costume tradition.
The point was made clear at Giorgio Armani’s show which was staged in a theater in the 18th-century palace where the designer lives, so to speak, above the shop. “Do you think it means I’m old because I suddenly love Armani again?” asked a prominent editor after a presentation that reminded us how some of the hottest brands currently proposing a toned-down suit for a new generation are essentially quoting Armani innovations. half a century ago.
“When I look at Armani now, I look at Amiri and Fear of God,” I responded, referring to pieces that were thoughtfully constructed yet looked as homey as the luxurious sweatshirts produced by designers Mike Amiri and Jerry Lorenzo. The editor did a spit shot: “I’m using Amiri right now.”
It may seem strange that a designer turning 90 (Armani’s 88th birthday is next month) seems more in tune with his moment than someone like Miuccia Prada, who for decades has shown a fortune-telling ability to anticipate what’s next. The Prada collection, designed with Raf Simons, featured black one-and-a-half-breasted fitted suits, denim overalls, and lederhosen-based zip-front lapel-front leather shorts. Within minutes of the show’s end, Instagram was flooded with images from nearly identical sources from the world of kink.
While it is not known how harmonious the working partnership of Mr. Simons and Mrs. Prada is, it sometimes seems to this observer that what is needed in their work life is less a fellow designer than a conspirator. Until his death in 2015, that person was the Italian photographer and style eminence Manuela Pavesi. It doesn’t do a person of Ms. Prada’s talents any good to suggest that she needs a crutch. Yet in the absence of the fermenting spirit of the woman that designer Jonathan Anderson, himself a Prada alumnus, once described as someone with an eye so wild and unrestrained that one automatically wanted to meet her, Prada’s runway atmosphere she’s gotten a bit dour.
His show felt like the antithesis of a charming Gucci capsule collection, designed by Alessandro Michele with Harry Styles (and labeled Gucci HA HA HA, after their paired initials). The 25-piece assemblage of wide-lapel suits, grumpy bear and cherry print shirts, tailored pajamas, hats and ties wide enough to appeal to Bozo had a cheery vivacity.
The mood of the presentation, held in a famous second-hand store in Milan, was so effervescent that when Mr. Michele and Mr. Styles got together to design, they must have been as happy as two little boys in a puddle of water. mud. Perhaps Mrs. Prada could use a Harry Styles of her own. They could start with a play date.
Source: www.nytimes.com