The essence of Fendi is illusion. Silvia Venturini Fendi has often counseled that nothing is what it seems with the stuff her family's business makes: the fur that looks like fabric, the fabric that looks like something else. Today there was a catwalk that appeared to be pebbles suspended in puddles of water. Silvia gleefully told of her models taking tentative steps, expecting to sink into sludge, only to find they were walking on resin. But the clothes themselves actually had less eye-teasing trickery than usual. In fact, they were as straightforward as an oversize polo over baggy Bermuda shorts, the kind of outfit Dad would wear on the weekend—visor optional. (It was Father’s Day yesterday, after all.) Silvia said that her background in accessories makes her more appreciative of functionality in clothes; and her new men's collection was certainly functional. Nothing remotely formal, just lots of big tops and comfy pants. And no theme to speak of. "You won't ever see a mood board backstage," Silvia said wryly. "I like to do something where you always want to know more."
So what was there to learn about this particular outing? It wasn't really as basic as it seemed. Fabrics were rich. Plush T-shirts gleamed with dull gold or silver. Drop-shouldered coats were cut from python, suede, and leather. The granito pattern was carried over from women's Resort to provide some poppy visual interest, and the bag bugs that have become such a sensation for Fendi were dissected to create cult pieces. One patched together from leather and stitched with metal looked like an artisanal relic of the Renaissance. Silvia liked that idea because it hooks the present to the past, something very much in Fendi's Roman roots. Same with the red in the collection—papal, she thought. So not straightforward. This is Fendi, and Silvia herself has always liked to inject a perverse little tease into her men's collection. This time? "It's the sophistication that's perverse," she said. Perhaps because it was so seductively casual.
