The Valentino invite stated clearly: bring a book. A risky demand in itself, considering how little younger generations tend to actually read nowadays, let alone enjoy the habit enough to have books simply lying around (the horror). But Alessandro Michele is unwilling to compromise on the value of a good reference, starting with the show notes that preceded the Spring/Summer 2027 show, presented at the Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève in Paris.
Antibiblioteca, it was called. For those among us who still indulge in this particular form of entertainment and research, the idea of a library containing thousands of books one will never get to read is nothing short of tantalising. The trendy ones you never remember to pick up again. The literary feats that feel too colossal to process at any given moment. The ones we borrowed with no intention to ever return. By evoking this catalogue of the unread, we are presented with a promise of knowledge and, as the notes mention, of “happiness treasured in anticipation”. For Michele’s Valentino, a house that delights in peeking into the fantastical, centring a collection on literary potential provided enough mystery to keep us at the edge of our seats as the first looks walked out between the maze of old school desks and Art Deco lamps.
Lace and satin corsets over pleated balloon skirts, plaid shirts with sequined sleeves in flower motifs, a plumed neckline on an embellished open jacket, transparent black mesh over a nipple piercing. The pages turn at incredible speed. Each character owns their own narrative, one sentence never giving away the next, glamour being the only unwavering constant. Tweed mixed with lace, cheetah over plaid, a yellow fringe brushing against the smoothest black velvet. Trying to classify such an array of personas as tasteful or distasteful is entirely beside the point — this kaleidoscope is a sequence of scripts tied one to another not by a desire for coherence, but by a contemplation of the unknown. Valentino revels in contradiction, an Italian legacy of extravagance against the allure of Paris, and all the multitudes that lie within. As Troye Sivan’s Party started playing, models walked out for their last lap; the multiplicity of the collection was flagrant.
Potential is an interesting notion. It often comes as a cautionary tale, whether it be across relationships, careers, or people. We’re told time and time again not to consider it too much, not to guide ourselves by it, not to fall in love with it. Michele’s Valentino asks us to trust it, even if nothing of it ever comes to be. Trust that we can be it all, with no self-imposed limitation, and be sharply aware of how much there is still to do, live, and read. Everything else is a party in the bush.
Words by Carolina Queirós
