We put the frenzy in Firenze. To mark Jeremy Scott’s first contact with Pitti – the crucial crucible of must-wear menswear – Moschino presents a high-speed collision of past and future. Point of impact? Now.
Think Valentino Rossi meets Fred Astaire. Imagine Staying Alive spliced with 2001: A Space Odyssey. There’s a sniff of Jimi Hendrix, a dash of Prince, a soupçon of Louis XVI – and a whole lot of Scott.
Points of commonality? A dedication to display – seriously playful peacocking – that’s only heightened by the elegance of Scott’s refusal to acknowledge the pigeonhole-categories of codified menswear. Smart vs informal? Just not normal.
So, display. Think of the stylised sponsors’ badges of honour that are worn, skin-tight, by the petrol-head warriors of Moto GP. Crash that image into the tailcoated insouciance of old-school eveningwear.
Then take it back, pre-industrial, to unabashedly decadent ruffle and kerfuffle of 18th century masculine power dressing. Factor in brocade, candy-stripe, and cartoonery. Then lay it over right-this-minute streetwear silhouettes.
In 2016 there is nothing to stop you wearing whatever the hell you want – except its availability. This is not about more pocket squares, more deconstructed jackets, more athleisure, more meh. It’s Moschino, baby.
Moschino © Copyright 2015