The Drama of Schiaparelli, the Vivifying Grace of Giambattista Valli

It may be the pouring rain after days of heat, the not particularly auspicious world climate and the gripping uncertainty that follows, combined with an undoubted moment of crisis and tiredness of the system, but the start of the short Parisian period dedicated to haute couture seems subdued - the fireworks, namely Glenn Martens' debut at Maison Margiela and Demna's farewell from Balenciaga, are in any case reserved for the finale. The change of atmosphere is immediately evident at Schiaparelli : if the audience is flamboyant as per the script - Cardi B, Dua Lipa and then a whole parterre of high-spending women who like to appear exuberant, attract the gaze of an entire room, stir up comments - the proposal on the catwalk is severe, dramatic, at times almost mournful, and not only because the almost absolute protagonist is black.

For a few seasons now, Daniel Roseberry, the creative director of the media successes, has put aside the sensational baroqueness that triggers virtual virality - with the exception this time of a disturbing red dress, truly ghostly, with realistically rendered breasts and bust worn on the back together with a mechanical necklace in the shape of a beating heart - to concentrate on form and construction. This fashion show, aimed at connecting the archive and the future through an imaginary bridge - it is perhaps the first to be noticed, between sculpted silhouettes, Spanish echoes and solemn curves - represents the closing of the circle. Roseberry looks at the Paris of the late 1930s, before the capital was invaded by the Germans in June 1940, and speaks of a "twilight of glamour", the same one that runs through the fashion photos of the time. The hints of a robotic future, populated by centaur women, are not lacking, but it is the future anterior of that war imagery, also consigned to history. In other words, one appreciates the gravitas of the test, but one cannot help but feel its nostalgic inspiration.

Always a companion of women, a herald of an aesthetic in which, in his own words, "legs and brains go hand in hand", Giambattista Valli does not allow himself to be overwhelmed by gloom. "In this - he adds - I am Roman: even in the darkest horror I can cling to a glimmer of light, and start from there". He is radiant: as a prelude to the presentation, the Minister of Culture Rachida Dati, awards him, for merits acquired in the field, the title of Officer of the Order of Arts and Letters. It is a recognition of the utmost weight, which sanctions Valli's tireless dedication to the reasons of beauty and manual skill. For the occasion he does not parade: the clothes, graceful and frothy blooms that pay homage from afar to the French eighteenth century, are exhibited in the very white rooms of the Maison Valli. It is a vision full of lightness, which reaches straight to the heart and thoughts without conjecture, with ineffable grace.