Bottega Veneta Finally Nailed It
Matthieu Blazy spent seasons trying to home in on a distinct vision of a woman. Three years in, he found her.
Ever since Matthieu Blazy became the creative director of Bottega Veneta, he has thrown everything at his audience — which, fortunately for him, delights in being slapped, cuddled, and kissed by craft techniques. He made leather look like jeans and an old flannel shirt, an illusion achieved by layering print upon print. In his fall 2023 show, he sent out 81 looks, or “characters,” to dramatize the breadth of Italian street style. It allowed Blazy’s curiosity to go places it hadn’t been before. In his very next show, he blended the styles and craft traditions of many different countries with extra allusions to the sea. A pair of hand-crocheted net dresses featured giant embroidered barnacles of raffia.
Blazy has made a fetish of craft, especially embellishments like thick fringe. But at the same time, his collections have been all over the place, and by last September — nearly two years into his job — it was hard to see a distinct style and vision of women. As Blazy acknowledged recently, “I was interested in the idea of maximalism, that it was too much. And maybe it was.”
Because Blazy’s fall 2024 collection is so stripped back — he cut out embroideries and even cooled it a bit on the fringe — people might think the change is simplicity. Backstage, talking to reporters, he used terms like everyday and functional. Those qualities are certainly present as never before, but they are not what made this wonderful collection tick with life.
For me, the telling clue was the people whose images were on Blazy’s mood boards, which I saw in the Bottega studio a few nights before the show. Among them were Gianni Agnelli, Sidney Poitier, Nina Simone, Igor Stravinsky, and several anonymous men and women who were well dressed but not necessarily fashionable. The years ranged from the mid-1940s to perhaps the early ’70s. Blazy’s other references were scattered among the faces — notably, fire, for its hot colors as well as its ash grays and carbon blacks, and the fact that seeds magically thrive in a burnt landscape. To Blazy and his design team, there was a connection between elegance and, as he put it, “the resilience of plants.”
But what linked the men on the boards? (I must confess I noticed their dress and body language before the women’s.) The answer is: allure. They all have that ineffable quality, which isn’t the same as glamour.
And that was the sense I took away from many of the clothes, in particular the round-shoulder coats in wool bouclé that opened the show (Blazy said he was partly influenced by seeing the silhouettes of people at night as he walked his dog), and the wool dress shirts layered over a lighter-weight shirt — the best example being a shirt in saffron-yellow wool over a tan shirt with a pale-yellow skirt and low heels, and the dresses with a raised and curving central seam.
Made in a silk jersey that doesn’t crease when you sit, the dresses recall a design Blazy showed last season, except they are so much better now. The raised bit is topstitched, presumably to give it some body, and at various points there’s a ceramic (or Murano glass) button. The seam, if you want to call it that, gently snakes down the front of the body and then releases, creating a flutter of a skirt in a contrasting fabric. There are several versions, including one in black, olive-brown, and off-white. To me, the dresses give off allure, in part because they have a formality without being fussy or contrived (a problem for Blazy in the past) and in part because they don’t look like anything else in fashion.
Young people on TikTok and elsewhere are obsessed with earlier generations of socialites and well-dressed women generally. They ought to be paying attention to the men, too. But what are they looking for, exactly? Quite possibly it’s a nice mix of formality and a disregard for high fashion — indeed, anything that looks too identifiable. I also like that many of Blazy’s clothes — not all but many — can function as an inspiring guide for how to dress, like the doubled-up shirts and their unexpected mix of colors. One group of slightly oversize shirts (with matching trousers) was based on notebook-paper lines; the pattern was woven in the fabric rather than printed.
Blazy told me, “Not to say this collection is better than the last one, but I’m more at ease with this.” He laughed and added, “Although it was way more complicated to achieve than the last collection.” No doubt because allure is something hard to put your finger on.
Giorgio Armani opened his show on Sunday with Gina di Bernardo, who appeared in his ads in the 1980s and was now wearing a cocked fedora with a tritone-beige satin coat over a ribbed tan silk hoodie and pants. And it was smooth sailing from there; Armani showed mostly pants, like plush cargoes, with blazers, some in antique-looking floral patterns.
It was Armani who created a modern uniform for women that saved them from drama and the clichés of glamour. But what is Ferragamo doing? It’s a great name, but its identity and image seem increasingly muddled as its designer, Maximilian Davis, and the company’s management try to turn a perfectly solid Italian sportswear label into one more high-toned luxury brand.
Last season, Davis’s collection seemed promising, with a relaxed and cool vibe and terrific dresses. This time, though, there wasn’t a real proposal. He opened with a rounded jacket in olive wool bound at the hem with a wide belt in the same fabric — and the belt motif kept returning in the show, even as satin trim on a chiffon evening dress. The idea sank his collection, for the simple reason that it served no honest design purpose.
Another thing I can’t fathom at Ferragamo is: Where are the must-have shoes? There were stiletto sandals, over-the-knee boots, and chunky footwear for men, including Davis’s version of waders (a runway idea that has already expired), but very little else.
Jil Sander also lacked relevance as designers Luke and Lucie Meier played with too many rounded and caped dress styles that seemed intended to evoke classic couture, and also offered similar looks in quilted pink and azure-blue satin that just looked tragically old lady.
Rocco Iannone, the creative director of Ferrari’s feisty fashion line, gave himself the challenge of reflecting on the energy and form of the human body — the body being, of course, integral to Ferrari’s racing cars. And I think he succeeded with his treatment of reflective organzas, superfine velvets, and other shimmery fabrics for both well-done minimalist gowns and fantastical mechanic’s jumpsuits. You want to sometimes see things that are preposterous, and then have them prove that they are actually inventive and fun right before your eyes. And why not from Ferrari?