Look Out, Paris, It's Chic to Chic In Milan

By Michael Demarest

A look of inventive, well-made elegance that is wearable in a real world

Report of fashions in proud Italy. . .

--William Shakespeare, Richard II

Milan basked in the heady perfume of spring flowers and international applause. The ready-to-wear collections paraded at the Italian fashion center last week triumphantly upheld its tradition of sophistication and charm. By contrast with the far-out fantasy fashion of Paris, la moda milanese stands more than ever for inventive, well-made clothes that are wearable in a real world: functional but feminine by day, dramatic but not stagy by night.

Tucked into a single week were 37 shows of fall clothes, attracting 2,400 buyers and fashion critics. Many agreed that in important respects--fabric, detail and practicality--the milanese look has come to rival la mode parisienne.

The Italian superstar, this year even more than last, is undeniably Giorgio Armani, 46. A master tailor who was probably the most influential men's wear designer in the '70s, he is being hailed in his sixth year of designing for women as Cardin and Courreges were in the '60s. (And being well rewarded: his sales worldwide last year totaled $120 million.) The Armani imprint is detectable in many of his competitors' designs. Says Carla Fendi, of the Roman family of designers: "He has created a unique style, one that you can recognize without a label." No label is needed when the designer has a pedigree--and Armani's coat of arms would be bold and elegant.

Long before he started designing clothes for women, Armani was known for his superb tailoring and loving way with materials. For both men and women, he reintroduced linen, for example --and made the inevitable crumpled look acceptable. He ripped the linings out of his jackets for women to create an unstructured look, and made them hang almost as loosely as an afterthought.

With his new collection, Armani introduces fancy-free outfits for work and play. There is hardly a skirt in the show. The emphasis is on pants: quilted, pleated, tucked and cuffed bermudas, knee-length culottes with upward-curving hems, knickers and quilted pantskirts. They are worn in daytime with silk or satin blouses, strictly tailored jackets, capes and large T-shaped wool ponchos. Many of Armani's favorite colors--shades of beige, brown, rust, taupe, gray, black, traces of cobalt blue--are subtly combined in a single ensemble. Favorite materials for pants and jackets are houndstooth checks, herringbone tweeds, velvet, flannel and, for evening, stiff satin. At night the baroque steps out: long silk crepe dresses, many strapless; spangled black tunics with full sleeves worn over black satin bermudas; tunics and jackets in velvet and satin over pants.

After a visit to Japan last year and exposure to Kurosawa's film Kagemusha, Armani has given a new look to his more exotic clothes: smocked leather samurai jackets, ballooning silk pants, kimono-inspired collars, obi sashes and details taken from ceremonial robes. "It's true I was influenced by Japan," says Armani. "But the real inspiration is born when you examine what you did last season and try to sharpen your focus, softening a line that was too rigid, changing a color that was too hard." As a former fabric designer, Armani starts every collection by putting together threads, colors and weaves in an innovative selection of materials. "He spends days just looking at fabric samples," says his business partner Sergio Galleotti; there are 100 different materials in the present show.

Armani's decision to design for women in 1975 was influenced in part by visitors to his original men's wear store: women shopping not for their men but for themselves. "When I made the first jacket for a woman, copied from the man's," he recalls, "they told me, 'It's too hard, too masculine. Women won't accept it.' They were wrong. Women understood right away that a man's jacket on a woman makes her personality stand out." Most of his jackets today are softly rounded--and very feminine. He detests the notion of unisex.

A hard-driving northerner, tanned, silver-haired, blue-eyed Armani remains as trim and fit as a male model half his age. His studio is in a 16th-century palazzo in downtown Milan. Despite the surroundings, he prides himself on "de-dramatizing" the female image. Armani maintains that "young women want to dress in a classic way, elegantly, but not a la Dior or Chanel in the '40s. Women today move differently. Today's body should not be confined by clothes that are too structured." Associates note that Armani collaborates closely with several women designers in his studio and understands their need for practical daytime wear. "I feel the real world to conquer is the young people," he insists. He shows an uncanny sense of what they want. Despite heated opposition from retailers and his own associates, Armani in 1978 decided to leave the collars off his jackets --and just about every other designer decollared in his wake. Women wear his clothes unselfconsciously on the street and in the office. His clothes look as much at home in Washington, D.C., as they do in Rome. Says Armani: "I think I have created a new kind of chic."

Few critics disagree. Francine Crescent, who as editor in chief of French Vogue might understandably be some what skeptical, exclaimed after seeing Armani's new line: "Superb, superb! I want to dress like that! And most important: it's very sexy." Adds Lynn Manulis, co-owner of the carriage-trade Martha stores in Manhattan and Florida: "He's like Pavarotti. A lot of people don't understand anything about music, but when they hear him sing they just know he's great." And he meets an acid test of the classic designers: his clothes never go out of style. Chanel suits have become collectibles. So, now, have Armanis.

Among Milan's most durable cult figures are Ottavio ("Tai") and Rosita Missoni, the world's leading designers of knit wear (world sales: $14 million), whose work after 27 years of husband-and-wife partnership is often closer to art than fashion. Notes Benita Downing, a Neiman-Marcus buyer: "The Missonis have no equal. They set the pattern for years in advance: the stitches, the colors, the fashion itself." Their new collection struck many critics as the most stylish ever. Combining knits with woven fabrics such as Donegal tweed, and using blue, green, gold, rust, purple and pink pastels, they devised a bold-patterned rustic look that is also very sophisticated. Layers of jackets smother vests, sweaters, skirts, pants and bermudas. Long sweaters can be worn as minidresses, often with short jackets or vests; knickers are often tucked into leg warmers. The Missoni look is likely to be durable indeed: Tai and Rosita have been joined in the business by their three children.

At the peak of their prowess last week were the five Fendi sisters of Rome, who have taken furs into high fashion as the Missonis have created knitwear super-chic. The Fendis collaborate with Parisian Couturier Karl Lagerfeld to turn out fur and wool coats in beguiling shapes, patterns and colors. Paola, Anna, Franca, Carla and Alda dye their furs in extravagant colors (but not necessarily at extravagant prices), and have elevated such plebeian pelts as squirrel, ferret and weasel to furistocracy. They have also made a stir with their non-fur pants, shirts and dresses. Some observers guessed that this Fendi collection may have racked up more earnings than any other last week.

Another pillar of milanese fashion is Mariuccia Mandelli, 51, founder of the 27-year-old house of Krizia. (The name suggests Croesus, any designer's dream customer.) Many of her opulent models this year look like illustrations for Asian and Oriental fairy tales: big white Mongolian lamb vests and deep piled quilts, Siamese silk shirts, Chinese coolie coats, Tartar-like collarless jackets, Mongol hats and full, loose pants tucked into ankle-high boots. Mandelli can also project a sense of humor. Her trademark is the use of a different animal theme each year: 1981 is the year of the lion, which is intricately woven and embroidered on her sweaters; some Leos wear silly neckties and glitter with threads of gold. In a big year for knits, Mariuccia's collection boasts pearl-studded angora dresses and some with copper and pink arabesques of clouds. A more conventional but spectacular ensemble is a quilted, boxy gold satin jacket worn over bronze-striped lame pants. Many observers agreed with Henri Bendel Vice President Jean Rosenberg: "This is the kind of collection we come to Europe for, and not too often see." For her longtime support of la moda milanese, the former schoolteacher is known as the Godmother; to her loyal American fans she is a godsend.

Another strong designer is Gianni Versace, who at 33 is the youngest of the Young Turks of Milan. Black-bearded, with the look of a Barbary corsair, he invests his clothes with a zippy youthfulness that attests to his belief that "Italian designers, unlike the French, love women." His day clothes, mostly in fall tones, are built up in layers under long coats and greatcoats that make the gentle wearer look like a hunter or a highwayman. Versace puts classic tweed jackets over dashing gaucho pants or jodhpurs, loosely belted jackets over mid-knee-length skirts and musketeer boots, and raspberry red silk tunics over black tights. An immensely prolific creator, he employs 1,000 workers, whose diligence and pride in their skills he calls "fantastic." He cautions, "Anyone who thinks Italians don't like work had better look out." In Milan last week, one did not have to look far to see that those designing Italians work also with the grace and fastidiousness that are their heritage. --By Michael Demarest.

Reported by Logan Bentley/Milan

With reporting by Logan Bentley/Milan

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