#Boycott Dolce & Gabbana? Oh no, not again. What had Domenico and Stefano said now? Some of the runway walkers and all of the backstage staff, plus the designers themselves, wore T-shirts urging a boycott of the brand.
“It’s irony! A joke!” Dolce said backstage before the show. “People use heavy words very easily these days. There is too much aggression. We think what the world needs is love—and for us, fashion is love.”
Irony number two was that this show was more roadblock than boycott. Outside the Metropol there were several hundred highly hormonal girls of a certain age waiting to see whichever member of this hundred-plus cast of hot Insta-famous boys—seasoned by a dusting of hot, Insta-famous girls—they were into. (As I write this paragraph in a cafe around the corner, a high wave of ecstatic teenage screaming is echoing up the street). For following last night's last-minute sartorial Dolce & Gabbana show (“that was was our DNA, our classics, what we have always done, while this is about the new,” Dolce said), the designers again returned to their crowd-drawing, social media–led policy of casting millennials.
There was plenty of second-generation famous, including Dylan Brosnan (son of Pierce), Brandon Lee (son of Tommy and Pamela), Tyler Clinton (nephew of Bill), Myles O’Neal (son of Shaquille), Sacha Bailey (son of David), Roberto Rossellini (son of Isabella), and Tuki Brando (grandson of Marlon). Among the girls included a Greek princess and a cluster of Stallones, and there were self-made selfie-natives in the form of Italian musician Tedua and American artist Raury Deshawn Tullis. The house handed out a cheat sheet listing many of these names alongside their Instagram handles and follower count.
Raury (@raury, 149K) wore yellow jersey shorts and an oversize yellow hoodie, both printed with a Dolce & Gabbana label. Over this he wore a transparent bomber that, he said, “feels like it’s from the future. It’s technical and it’s about protection. I like it.” Raury, like all the models, had been encouraged to choose his own outfit, but at the finale he seemed to tire of it, pulling off the hoodie and the bomber. “PROTEST” read the block capitals on his chest, along with “D&G GIVE ME FREEDOM” and “I AM NOT YOUR SCAPEGOAT.” Ah, the irony.
The clothes were as eclectic as the cast. A playing-card king motif and revived takes on print and color inspired by Memphis (the design movement born in Milan just as Dolce & Gabbana were themselves starting out as twentysomethings) played through it, along with a stalking leopard-and-tiger jungle print and Japan-esque prints inspired by their recent Alta Moda excursion to Tokyo. There were hand-painted jeans, tweaked silhouette pajama suits printed with images of the brand’s popular hand-scrawled trainers, and a high-production oversized sequin king-motif tee. There was also a series of interestingly progressive double-breasted cropped bomber jackets in black or olive that came peppered with patches urging eternal love. Despite last night’s sartorial show, suiting was included, too: a silver-flecked tux jacket featuring a shawl collar in silver sequins, a two-piece in Japan-esque jacquard, and a black silk suit with a storm of falling playing cards. Accessories included some Memphis printed D&G logo totes with hashtag handles.
One ephemerally minor but effectively major-ish inflection was expressed in a polo shirt and basketball shirt made in traditional black nonna crochet but lined with sportswear ribbing. This neatly encapsulated a tangible link between the Sicilian source code of this label and the millennial update they’ve spent the last few seasons working on.
