Erika Cavallini closed her soulful show by storming the catwalk surrounded by her army of models. She really looked like one of them, not just because of her good looks, but mostly because her diverse casting included many real, grown-up women. It felt as if a breath of real life was sweeping across the runway. It was an emotional moment; if only we could experience (just a few) others like this, fashion (week) would be definitely much more fulfilling and meaningful.
Cavallini called her collection Misery and Nobility; there wasn’t much misery in it, though. What she wanted to convey was probably how old clothes, shredded, mended, torn apart as they could be from years of wear, still hold their soul and their dignity. So, in the show, coats were patched together haphazardly, as memories from the past often are, and assembled from different fabrics and worn inside out; beautiful vintage-inspired slip dresses in bejeweled lace were worn under masculine oversize suits or under huge hand-knit mohair sweaters, as if mementos from a glorious heritage were worn casually for the everyday; shredded hems abounded; and linings were ripped and left unstitched, as if marking the passing of time. Rhinestone brooches, like antique family heirlooms, were pinned on the plunging neckline of a stunning ’40s-inspired purple evening dress, on satin slippers, and on a powder pink oversize hand-knit twinset worn with fluid pants. It could’ve looked like just another trip to granny’s attic if it weren’t for the delicacy and the authenticity with which Cavallini handled the subject.
There was a touch of theatrical indulgence in the collection, which made the work of the great Pina Bausch come to mind; the spirit of another great, Martin Margiela, for whom Cavallini briefly worked, also resurfaced in the collection. But why not? They’re both mighty, noble references; the designer honored their legacy with her own heartfelt, honest, and truly ravishing interpretation.
