The risk that comes with titling a collection “Lost and Found” is that people read too closely into the former at the expense of the latter. The reward is that it opens up the pursuit of discovery. For his second men’s show as creative director of Marni, Francesco Risso ushered guests through a darkened tunnel entrance that gave way to a bright industrial space where rows of color-blocked benches perched atop what were ostensibly clear, blow-up rafts. The effect was that of levitating subway seating, which, even if not the intended interpretation, set the stage for an outing that projected the odd, cerebral charm inherent to Marni. The clothes, as Risso explained lyrically afterward, were meant to “surf the typography of a city,” “invoke diverse objects,” and acknowledge the “nobility of coincidences.” Knowing this might help make sense of the randomness with which sailboats appeared on suiting and Hawaiian floral motifs merged with bookish retro ones.
There were, however, signs of effort directed towards the assembly of the pieces themselves—not just how they came together at the end. Extra roomy pants ultimately fit just right—as though they had been borrowed and properly resized. Shirts weren’t simply deconstructed and reconstructed; they were creatively collaged and layered—sometimes held together with crochet seams, or tacked with superfluous swatches of fabric as DIY flourishes underscoring individuality. Of course, the fact that octogenarian ceramic artist Magdalena Suarez’s name accompanies all her uneasy drawings means that the guys attracted to these pieces can’t claim to have done the art themselves. But anyone who accessorizes with an illustrated running bib or sport bonnet as neckwear is essentially asserting his taste for outsider art over that which is blue chip. Risso, in other words, is presenting wearable clothes with a nonconformist touch. And while it may still be unclear where he’ll end up, he’s expressing himself boldly until he gets there.
