“I don’t see the point in constantly flipping things on their head,” said Alberto Caliri before today’s show, unfazed by the torrential monsoon that broke just as guests were arriving. “I’d rather slow down, land on a silhouette that works, and carry it forward as a foundation. I loved the knitwear and coats in the fall collection: start with a core, build around a clear idea. So why change?”
It’s an unhurried stance in an industry addicted to reinvention. But Caliri’s long tenure at Missoni grants him the poise and finesse to fine tune its codes without distorting their quintessential Missonism beyond recognition. It’s the sort of vantage point that, combined with his creative sensibility and anti-diva approach, most designers drafted in to shock-revive heritage brands (whether deceased, comatose, or simply decaying in obscurity) would kill for.
If fall was all about drastically abbreviated silhouettes and legs left bare, this season Caliri nudged the dial a notch further. He may sidestep the limelight, but conviction runs through every zigzag of the caperdoni patterns he has honed for decades. Beneath voluminous square-cut knitted blazers, swing-back trapeze tops, and poufy zippered blousons, he styled the entire swimwear line: one-piece suits, high-waisted bikinis, and trim swim briefs, all paired with masculine shirts tucked in and layered under textured cardigans, then spliced with waistcoats or cropped tops. At times they (barely) surfaced beneath lightweight parkas or slightly oversized pinstriped blazers. And because Caliri also happens to be a deft stylist, the layering took on a kind of virtuoso turn, without ever tipping into excess or ennui.
Many of the people Caliri knows keep a Missoni piece that once belonged to a grandfather, father, or boyfriend, a garment that somehow circles back and speaks to the present.“That’s why I love the idea of mixing,” he said. “A gray cashmere sweater with a shirt and a sly striped detail, your father’s trousers reinterpreted and made your own. It’s a continual play of references—not a rigid designer stamp, but a story that feels truer, less constructed.” He added that his collections are, in a way, the sum of meetings, impressions, and conversations. “I talk with you, an image sticks with me, I rework it, and something comes out of that. It’s an open, almost choral process—far more rewarding than solitary, self-referential design.”
