Milan – Day 2
by Tom Stubbs2 February 2010
Is luxurious style a dozen freezing young boys suffering the bitter cold in order to line the path to the Bottega Venetta show? I’m not sure it is. Like cashmere clad fish fingers they shivered and tried not to cry. Things improved inside as Nowhere Boy bequiffed chaps in the Edwardian length jackets modelled a new version of evening stance for Bottega. Teddy Boy black bootlace tie, if you will.
At Tod’s we saw a smashing array of Tod’s fair, as one might expect. I found the vintage accent to some new penny loafers interesting. Also a new style high top boot takes Tod’s down a new route. I’m feeling the wallets with personalised double stripe to follow suit on the once double stripe Pashmy hold-all. Met Diego Della Valle while he was being an exemplary host in Milan’s Villa Necchi. He exhibited a healthy dose of “Spezzatura” (affected nonchalance) with his trademark unfastened buttons on Oxford shirt collar. See the current issue of The Rake for more of this practice in feature form.
A Stubbs favourite, Salvatore Ferragamo delivered autumnal bohemian gaucho verve. Haight-Ashbury sheerings and sheepskins teamed with riding boots and massive scarves, which functioned in an almost The Good The Bad and The Ugly manner. Scarves so thick they thought they were demi-ponchos. Interesting, as my poncho got delivered via Ferragamo’s PR. She owed me a favour and, as I forgot to collect it in London, she obliged. Is that over the top? Having a poncho delivered by plane? It’s Hermes. It has tassels. Still unsure whether to drop the full blown riding look in Milan, but Ferragamo is tipping the balance. Long live the Florentine scourge of fury animals and lizards.
Vivienne Westwood’s cardboard city runway might be a step too far for some sensitive dispositions, but unlikely to offend the fashion mob who are way too shallow. Her collection was aristo’ meets Dexys Midnight Runners with Deputy Dog hats on. For those who doubt her lunatic disposition, note video footage of her delivered on emergency trolley by homeless paramedics to kiss every boy in the show at the end of the catwalk. The theatrics were most invigorating.
Playing Morrissey’s “I know its going to happen” on loop before the Prada show put me in an odd place. It’s one of my favs by Mozza, he’s at his delightfully anguished best. Two pre-show Martinis put me in an even odder place. I very much enjoyed the stuff I understood. Sort of Seventies/’Godber from Porridge gets released’ outfits in camel and navy, made in that thick suit material that only Prada use. Other stuff jarred however. Models in the sort of cardigans you might put on an eight year old girl, for example. Such is fashion’s confusing bent but I could have done without it. Out of shape from fatigue and Martini, I retreated to the safely of the orange neon ‘Nhow’ hotel wilderness and didn’t emerge till the morning.
- Tom Stubbs is FQR’s online style editor
Tags: Milan, Prada, Style, Vivienne Westwood
