As the models left the runway en masse, after a finale in which they paraded around a cluster of microphone stands containing lightbulbs, I tried to imagine a real life situation where it would be possible to see all of these looks together. That’s probably unfair: Fashion shows are nothing like real life. The best I came up with was a 1971 party thrown by The Rolling Stones at the Villa Nellcôte during the recording of Exile on Main St.
This wasn’t too far off. Gabriele Moratti said he’d tried to mix the floaty femininity of late 1960s West Coast flower children with the hardcore proto-punkiness of the ’70s in New York. Plus, he called the collection A Tale of Two Cities and inserted some vaguely Victorian frock coats with frogging inlays in stitches or sequins, which were sometimes trimmed with lace. The heavy dose of boot-cut or slim-cut leather pants worn with Cuban heels whispered of the label’s motorcycling origins. There was a closing suite of opaque evening dresses patched with floral embellishment that was just utterly Italian. And the shivery ruffle-laden mist of high-cut chiffon that had preceded made me think of Cavalli (the man).
The brand is apparently performing well at retailers and has the admirable (and radical) policy of donating 50 percent of all profits to charity. This show was neither the best of times nor the worst of times spent at this season’s Paris Fashion Week—but it’s easy to see why women in search of a new brand to party in might seek Redemption.
