The Cavalli man, the show notes declared, is a "free thinker" and "style explorer" who "goes against the trends." No kidding. Set in a vast hangar that had been converted into Club Cavalli, complete with mirrored flooring, zebra-striped sofas, and VIP guests like Julian Schnabel and brood, this collection didn't rely on anything as obvious or rational as a theme. Instead, after last season's tribute to Jim Morrison, Cavalli swapped the Lizard King for a more generalized, over-the-top species of lounge lizard. Shirts were either embroidered in gold or printed with animal motifs blown up to the point of abstraction; cargo pants in flimsy nylon came with enormous patch pockets; there was an array of bomber jackets and trenches decked out in various types of metallicized gold reptile, plus one or two skins never seen in nature.
More believable was the series of rakish double-breasted suits, many in navy with covered buttons, that closed the show: Nip-waisted, ventless jackets were paired with a pant that flared slightly at the ankle over, say, purple snakeskin boots. (Pete Doherty may be his new campaign star, but Cavalli is clearly more interested in his attitude than the attenuated cut of the singer's clothes.) The designer took in the proceedings perched on one of the low sofas, puffing contentedly on a cigar. The skinny-suited fashion pack may sometimes wonder what he's smoking, but Cavalli's sales figures suggest there is a lucrative supply of free thinkers and style explorers out there.
