MILANO
he curtain is not falling on Milan despite the doors being closed in recent days. The halls are empty and all is quiet. Yet the shows go on. The runway stretches like a tightrope over these chaotic, worrying days following the coronavirus outbreak. The Milan shows go and purity. They highlight the exactness of a style without excesses that is measured, sober and rigorous. They harness a relaxed, spontaneous allure. They offer impeccable tailored constructions, slim and linear cuts. They strive towards purism. Then the atmosphere turns more sumptuous. The mood gets regal. demands its space on the stage. The grace and nobility of materials is shown off and admired. Brocades, silk and crystals heighten the grandiosity of the weaves and embroideries. It is like opening the doors of Versailles. Time is suspended, as though capturing the Ancien Régime and the modern age in an eternal instant. Then Milan transforms its space once more. Becoming a forest, a swamp or a cave. Bearing an soul: mythological, edgy, intrepid, gutsy. This wild fascination oscillates between couture and streetwear. Between plissé and armour. Between animal prints and shearling coats. In an ode to strength and courage. An exaltation of freedom. A celebration of existence. The poetic carousel of fashion keeps on brightening rooms, pages and lives. Its tenaciousness and romanticism continues. And as Walt Whitman’s question, “What good amid these, O me, O life?”, hangs in the air, so Milan becomes a lyric poem against fear and offers its response to all: “That you are here—that life exists and identity, / That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse”.
