Fendi lifted the lid on a surprisingly messy collection
For the finale of the spring/summer 2025 show in Milan, Fendi had the models gather unexpectedly inside an oblong receptacle, erected in the middle of the hall-as-runway. At the start of the show, it was innocuous enough: it looked like a massive, yet unremarkable, set that a brand like Fendi would have the budget to put up, just for having something blockish in the middle of the space, even if it could easily pass off as some high-tech ossuary. There was something clinical about the set-up in the middle of an unadorned presentation area. It was surprising when one considered that this was Fendi's 100-anniversary show. When the cover of the trunk was slowly and dramatically raised, and the first sliver of light emerged, it was then clear that it was a sort of central stage, on which the models covertly gathered to appear as a group, and then proceed to finish their finale walk.
On that stage, what struck us was what did not. It was just a gathering. The models were arranged in no particular order and the clothes were of no discernible magnificence. It was not some stunning reveal. It augmented what we had thought moments earlier when the usual parade was underway. It was a collection of disparate ideas, an assemblage of startlingly lame clothes. As it was an anniversary collection, we had hoped for more astonishing or expressive designs, even if they were not marked by real reverence to a house that, admittedly, is not conspicuous by 'codes'. Instead, we got forms and compositions not distinguished by enthusiasm on the drafting table or joy from the production floor. There was such a lack of vitality that even the sprinkling of the glittery and the considerable sheerness were not sufficient to lift the pieces from the severely so-so.
This could be Kim Jones's weakest collection since his debut Fendi womenswear in 2021. It was possible that Mr Jones was attempting a greatest hits of sort, given the centenary significance. That line of thought was expected as the show opened with a trio of flapper-era dresses that Daisy Buchanan would consider too revealing to wear, even to Jay Gatsby's parties of wanton excess. Sure, they pointed to the brand's founding in 1925 by Adele Fendi (not quite the news maker that Gabrielle Chanel was when she started her couture house in Rue Cambon seven years earlier), but Mr Jones's attempts to lend a modern twist to them achieved nothing by way of the smart interplay of then and now. Instead, many of the looks appeared to be amped-up lounge wear, as if working from home were still the norm and women still wanted from-the-bedroom-to-boardroom-and-back-to-the-bedroom ease. Throwing on a duster over a union suit for slumber was hardly any elevation made.
In fact, modernity—what does it even mean now?—could be the collection's undoing. In his simplifying of things or the making of sheer this and that (a move that, no doubt, would welcome him to fellow LVMH employee Maria Grazia Chiuri's crowded club), Mr Jones nearly achieved a reduction-to-nought. How else do we square with the singlets that SKIMS offer with far more style? Or the tab-collar shirts with patched pockets nicked from the safari jacket. Or there-is-nothing-here shirt-dresses worn for a night of Netflix binging. Or short-sleeved bathrobes that so many holiday-makers no longer wear in a hotel room, let alone on the city streets. Or the shockingly Shein styling of tank top over a shirt? Or the cardis—from knitted and long to sheer and tacky—that constituted much of the layering that was, at best, ungainly? A hundred years is a long time to keep a house going. But more is needed to move it to the top. A lot more.
Screen shot (top): fendi/youtube. Photos: Fendi
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