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Jeff Bezos sat in the front row of Dolce & Gabbana's Fall/Winter 2024 menswear show on Saturday afternoon. It was a strange sight, but perhaps one that the fashion industry should get used to. After all, the Amazon founder appeared in his December issue of American Vogue.
Perhaps he held the hand of his wife-to-be, Lauren Sanchez, while his future son-in-law, Nikko González, created a vision of Visconte masculinity, from jackbooted figures of the Damned to white ties and tails. Maybe they just wanted to see him walk in a revived show. Il Gattopardo. It wasn't very fun, but it was icy and elegant. However, it looked expensive.
This kind of sums up Milan's menswear as a whole, with this season mainly focused on making the wealthy look richer. The tailoring was austere, with plenty of cashmere, leather and fur, mostly faux or shearling, but it was very obvious. At Dsquared, models stepped into the “makeover” machine wearing grungy looks in denim and sheepskin, while being transformed into ultra-polished silk and feather outfits. The effect was created by a cast of identical twins and some distracting pyrotechnics. I was already happy about that. But it felt like most of Milan's fashion world was seriously marching through the same machine, honing their act.
Fendi, for example, was on a roll with its chic show, and designer Silvia Venturini Fendi's behind-the-scenes line that she took inspiration from Princess Anne's coronation regalia went viral on social media. There were skirts at the show, of course, but what the royal references mainly translated to were plunging great coats cut soberly and glittering crystals from Fendi's jewelry line, designed by her daughter Delfina Deletrez. brooches, and wore a cardigan worthy of Balmoral.
That's not that surprising. In 1932, in the midst of the Great Depression, Gabrielle Chanel introduced her first fine jewelry collection, deliberately ditching the drab jersey for sequins and sable. When times get tough, incomes fall, and interest rates skyrocket, fashion often shakes off its blinders and realizes that people who spend money tend to want to look like the people they spend money on.
Gucci looked rich. His creative director, Sabato de He, is no different when Sarno puts thick embroidery on his coats and tank tops, or when he cuts his spare coat flat on the floor. When I looked at it up close, every part was perfect. De Sarno trained at his house of haute couture, Valentino, where his craftsmanship was highly elevated across the board. And Gucci has a century of leather expertise. “I love that Gucci story,” he said at the screening.
Gucci's archives are also rich, with nearly every shoe in the show being a variation of the brand's horsebit loafers, and most bags referencing 1960s Jackie. Lobster clasp hardware on bags has appeared on fashionable neckties and striking trench coats. But the really important idea was what Mr. De Sarno calls “mirroring” and what I call the pivot point. The opening look was a men's equivalent of the outfit worn at Gucci's first womenswear show in September, and there were other similar outfits familiar from Gucci's current advertising campaigns. If former creative director Alessandro Michele's tenure was a glittering one full of references, De Sarno is doubling down on his aesthetic. The whole idea, of course, is to pull off a look that's clearly Gucci.
Of course, looking wealthy isn't necessarily flashy. Alessandro Sartori's Zegna popularized a kind of modern tracksuit that could be swapped out for multiple outfit combinations with tonal cashmere garments. Think Billionaire Juicy Couture. The show was held in a cavernous sports stadium with a pile of hazmat orange cashmere fluff in the middle. According to Sartori, the same backdrop for the collection fell from the roof like radioactive snow, where the lines between clothing categories were blurred. Knitwear is thick, spongy and rain-resistant so it can be worn like a coat, while leather is light like paper and can be worn directly against the skin. He described the quilted unstructured knit jacket as a “cashmere sandwich.” “We are creating a new classic,” Sartori said. His relaxed, slouchy suit looked just like that, destined to sell for new and old money.
Old classics also work well. Look at Giorgio Armani, he turns 90 in July. While his eponymous show was understated and extravagant, his line for this season's more affordable Emporio was a stunner and one of the best he's ever staged. It was filled with perfect clothes for men and women, polished with marinière bending that never became costumes. This was a masterclass from a master, and he deserves credit for demonstrating the tailoring expertise that first catapulted him to the pinnacle of Italian fashion influence in the 1970s. And he continues to define his multi-billion euro brand today.
From brand building to world building. Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons are nothing if not ambitious. Architect Rem Koolhaas relocated a section of wasteland, full of babbling streams and scattered rocks, into the vast spaces of the Fondazione Prada and covered it with glass. “Threat” was a word used by Miuccia Prada to describe the idea of nature being trapped out of reach, like an exhibit in a museum. The natural world was always taken into account, both in overarching concepts about our impact on the planet around us and in more practical ideas about how to deal with changes in our environment. That included not only cold snaps and unseasonably warm temperatures, but also movement between indoors and outdoors.
So there was a mix of jacketless office drones in oxford shirts and ties and tweed-wrapped ramblers, with plenty of crossover between the two. Simmons said that by working with the weight of the fabrics, denim became supple and lightweight, like a chamois, while overcoats were bulkier with padded linings for insulation and protection. . Just like that glass. The most important Prada bags, mostly made of nylon, were mottled and treated to look like they had been damaged in a pouring rain. And in recent years, Prada has been converting all of its nylon production to recycled fibers, a shift led by Lorenzo Bertelli, the 35-year-old son of Miuccia Prada and Patrizio Bertelli, and underpins its commitment to the environment. ing.
In this show, the combination of sharp suits, smooth knits, and easy overcoats blends with the stunning set rather than overpowering it. I wish we could do the same for the earth. This was a resonant and extraordinary Prada show, truly rich in ideas and emotion.
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