Think T-shirts with velvet epaulets, gold fringe and rows of decorative medals paired with skirts depicting village scenes in winter, babushka headgear and leopard print, rough-hewed patchworks of silk and brocade.
Less dramatic, however, was Salvatore Ferragamo, where Fulvio Rigoni, making his official debut as design director for women’s wear, beat a strategic retreat toward the long, lean and mostly neutral.
Dresses were sleeveless and patched together from abstracted animal prints, sometimes with a trompe l’oeil cape of a sweater hanging off the back, as if the model had just shrugged out of her cardigan; outerwear came complete with curving double portrait collars (including on a long sleeveless puffer coat, one of the weirder ideas); and trousers were ski-pant-stretchy. Paired with Paul Andrew’s towering flower-shape stacked heels on lace-up bootees, the collection looked like the beginning of an idea that had not yet burst into bloom.
For posies, as well as leopard print, ruched sheaths, velvet trouser suits, robot appliqués, animal-costume chubbies (don’t be a cuddly puma, wear one instead!), elaborately embroidered denim, spaceman-in-the-sky-with-roses prints, puppy prints, tuxes of all types, corsetry, and a gold Lurex crocheted minidress with hearts all over, there was Dolce & Gabbana. Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana had what seemed like an alt-Oscars of their own, but instead of golden statuettes, there were golden tiaras. On almost everyone.
I know this, not because I was at the show (The New York Times, as we have pointed out before, is not invited to attend the collection, for reasons rooted in history that began long before I arrived at the newspaper) but because it became a social media sensation thanks to the digital reach of the millennials,