Every city I’ve passed through recently is peppered with Sportmax posters. The label has also taken out movie-loop ads at bus stops and other high-visibility street locations. This huge investment suggests the Max mothership sees that its sporty daughter brand is ripe for growth. This gentle exploration of the intersection of entry-level luxury and sportswear provided convincing enough evidence that the hunch has legs.
The marble floor of the Museo della Permanente was adorned with laminates covered in arrows and lane lines: The Sportmax runway was an airport runway. After a see-now-buy-now orange brand-logo sweatshirt amuse-bouche, the conceit was played out in monochrome knits and scarves, an oversize white quilted sweatshirt dress emblazoned with the word Run, and white or orange trucker jacket skirtsuits ticker-taped with Ready Steady Run. Later, some silk parachute dresses in black with stretch collars and wide-waist panels also boasted Run in cut-out and tonal relief, and through the two airplane window–shaped holes that perforated each shoulder and wrist of a double-face blue-black woolen top you could see it written yet again.
What were we supposed to run for? President? Our lives? The airport? No answer: This was a Nike-like message of nonspecific dynamism. Apart from the text-based clothing were a couple of vaguely aeronautically touched pieces, among them a black flight suit with zippers running from throat to both ankles and a parka-dress hybrid. Four good-looking later looks—a white top and pants; another jumpsuit (black); and two black and white dresses, one long and one less so—were all gathered at the navel by a climbing carabiner.
While the words expressed little precise meaning, this was a collection that runneth over with strong, muted-yet-modern pieces. Examples included the quilt-sleeved knit sweaters, a knit-sleeved wool-mix topcoat and peacoat, the flight suit, and an elongated white jumbo corduroy-lined jacket. Maybe they meant run straight to your nearest Sportmax store.
