Despite the fact that she first showed in 1945, it was not until the 1990s that the eccentric, radical Italian artist Carol Rama achieved much international recognition. And now, at nearly 100 years old, she finds herself a late-blooming designer muse, the inspiration for the Spring collection from Antonio Marras, who stretched his own artistry to the limit to evoke Rama's life and work. The set was a conglomeration of suitcases and bicycle bits and pieces, from old wheels whirling (Rama's father made bicycles) to tight elasticized belts designed to evoke the restraint of a straitjacket (Rama's mother was institutionalized). There were also spindly fabric fingers with blood red talons that wrapped a model's neck (hands were a recurring Rama motif, and she sometimes used nail polish for paint).
The extravagant peculiarity of Rama's work suited Marras' flair for drama. His shows play out almost like performance pieces, and his clothes are not for shrinking violets. Roses or chrysanthemums, maybe. The collection divided neatly into two parts: the first a Mediterranean riot of bright stripes, and naive florals with the vintage feel that is a Marras signature (such as a pinafore dress with a ruffled front). Prettiest were the pieces strewn with blossoming branches. The work was beautiful, even if the effect felt a little too familiar.
Then, a tip into a darker mood—an injection of chaos, asymmetric collages of plissé, embroideries on knitwear that looked like the inner workings of strange machines, sweeping organza printed with inner tubes. Odd, but better for it. It felt like maybe Marras himself was most deeply engaged by this bit of the show. Given that he is one of the most autobiographical of designers, that could only be a good thing, surely. So why did this collection feel a little more abstract, a little less poignant than the usual Marras tug at the heartstrings? Carol Rama was apparently unafraid to reject anyone and anything. Maybe that's the answer.
