"A graphic, anti-romantic study in proportions" was Marni designer Consuelo Castiglioni's description of her new men's collection. Cryptic, yet to the point, just like the clothes themselves. Castiglioni explored proportion in short-over-long layering, like a rain-cape (a kind of hoodie shrug) that was worn over a windbreaker, or a cropped blouson layered over a sweater and a double shirt. Doubling—and tripling—was another layer statement, as in a tri-level jersey tee, or a double-sleeved shirt that had gusseting down the side so that, as a Marni representative indicated, it "swung out" when you wore it. (Finally, the barn-dance mobility you've been craving.)
There was more to engage the mind in some of the sterling outerwear in which Marni excels. For instance: a rubberized linen parka, a jersey-lined windbreaker, and a red raincoat that snapped all the way up the front and the back. This kind of sophistication was counterpointed by the faux naiveté of T-shirts that looked like they'd been hand-painted (or maybe just run over with a paint roller). And in that counterpoint is the personality of Marni's menswear. It almost steadfastly rejects easy acceptance—and then it throws you a curveball like the Doc Martens-influenced shoes in cobalt blue, or the sunglasses with mirrored cobalt lenses, resistance to which truly is futile.
