Unlike the other editions, Giorgio Armani he didn’t explain it Privé collection neither verbally nor in writing. And perhaps he did well because this show spoke for itself. His codes, the stylistic features that made his name great, were all here: the velvety black diamondised with pearls or crystals alternating with tones of indefinable beige between shiny, matt and textured. Perhaps what made him remember his years of incomparable success, where there was not vintage but grace, where there was not exhibition but the natural rigor of a slender and fluid silhouette, was the photographic exhibition on Aldo Fallai all ‘Armani Silos (open until 11 August).
However, the sepia images that reproduced clothes with micro prints here are micro embroidery, the velvet is actually a cascade of tinsel up close and the beret can also be worn in the evening. Thanks to an ultra-minimal setting, the initial atmosphere presented a delicate clarity, a limbo between cream and vanilla, so unreal, but so meditative. Gentle shapes emerged from a tiny door as if in an Aubrey Beardsley drawing. The air conditioning shower then moved the feather wig hats and reassured even the younger models. Perfect but also emotional proportions that seemed to go in sync with the musical tracks of René Aubry or the cinema with white telephones. It’s difficult to say how many looks there were, that succession was a continuous lesson in style, without flaws, without boredom, perhaps never repeatable again. When the Mr. Armani he comes out accompanied by two models and smiles, not only because they are all in ecstasy, but because once again, despite his age (on 11 July he will be 90), despite the heat of the room, he managed to make us excite.
