ヴェルサーチの刺激的なA/W25ショーの裏側

Back in 1995, the late Gianni Versace released a book titled Men Without Ties. It was a collaboration with legendary photographers like Richard Avedon and Herb Ritts to encapsulate Versace’s approach to masculinity. The men didn’t wear ties. Actually, they didn’t wear anything, except, most memorably, plenty of artfully placed Versace homewares – the postmodern equivalent of very expensive fig leaves. A porcelain plate hurled, maybe, to obscure a crotch; a blanket provocatively wrapped, pushed a little too far, as Versace so often does.

Maybe Donatella Versace remembered that moment, when cooking up her Autumn/Winter 2025 show and its opening trio of models dressed in reconsidered, reconstituted Versace home bedspreads, sewn into a snuggly opera coat and the most haute of couture ballgowns. Or maybe she just decided to pun on the idea of a fashion ‘house’ – her sense of humour is sharp, slightly sardonic, and she’s always happy to send up both herself and the house of Versace, lightly. Because she’s serious about fashion, she can make fun of it too.

“With this collection I am not following any rules,” Versace stated, before her show. “Only the rules of the Versace DNA.” And that was what was so wildly exhilarating about this outing, staged in a vast disused tram station in the north of Milan. Granted, the venue was incongruous – shouldn’t Versace be in a palazzo, or a stadium hall with spotlights beaming? Or, indeed, perhaps in the Teatro alla Scala – a component of this collection was inspired by Gianni Versace’s costumes for ballet in the 1980s, a series of swirling crinoline tutus in black velvet ‘upskirting’ to reveal slashes of acid-colour Versace prints at the show’s finale. The same peeked out of floor-length tailored coats, and sometimes escaped, swirling across blousy tops and clinging bodycon leggings that riffed strong on vintage Versace.

And you know what? This was a vintage Versace collection itself, in the sense that it’s one that will be remembered, referenced, and hunted for by buyers in the future. Like those blankets around Versace’s pumped-up 1990s himbos, Donatella pushed this one just far enough. And it was great.

Archival references abounded, both direct – studded pockets were drawn from a 1991 collection, while a pair of frayed metallic evening gowns referenced Donatella’s first-ever Atelier Versace haute couture collection from July 1998. There were nods, too, to her brother’s own final Atelier collection – taking us back to a key juncture both in the house’s history, and her life. They are inextricable – when she hit two decades in the creative director role, rather than a celebration it was a sombre reminder. “For me, it’s 20 years since my brother passed away,” she told me. And when I once asked her what Versace meant to her, she replied “It’s my name.” Then, she paused. “It’s me.”

This collection felt profoundly, deeply personal to Donatella, and to Versace. It wasn’t embedded in the archives, but certainly its self-reference and reverence was more overt than of late. There was innovation though, too – because Versace was always about looking to both the past and future. In the early 1980s, Gianni created evening-gowns from a light metal mesh more commonly used in aeronautic engineering – the resultant dresses had the feel of medieval chain mail. Here, Donatella and her design team used 3D printing to engineer a dress, bustier and skirt, in recycled nylon polymers with crystal inserts. It wound up looking like armour, too.

Those original chain-mail dresses apparently did a rousing business in America – at one point, they outstripped sales of the rest of the collections put together. Some conjectured that that was about a country buying a past it didn’t experience first time around – which, perhaps, links to today, to young consumers snatching up Versace prints and retro nods to collections they are either too young to remember clearly, or perhaps weren’t even born (depends if we’re talking millennial or Gen Z here). There is definitely a rampant interest in vintage Versace – Donatella herself even wore it for her own bow at the end of this show.

But, again, vintage means more at Versace than anywhere else. It isn’t about celebrating a heritage, or an archive. It’s about celebrating a life – a sister, celebrating her brother. There’s a slight sadness to that, to even the most joyful Versace show, among which this numbers. But there’s also a poignant beauty, and a deep emotion and honesty. That’s why Versace matters so much.

Back in 1995, the late Gianni Versace released a book titled Men Without Ties. It was a collaboration with legendary photographers like Richard Avedon and Herb Ritts to encapsulate Versace’s approach to masculinity. The men didn’t wear ties. Actually, they didn’t wear anything, except, most memorably, plenty of artfully placed Versace homewares – the postmodern equivalent of very expensive fig leaves. A porcelain plate hurled, maybe, to obscure a crotch; a blanket provocatively wrapped, pushed a little too far, as Versace so often does.

Maybe Donatella Versace remembered that moment, when cooking up her Autumn/Winter 2025 show and its opening trio of models dressed in reconsidered, reconstituted Versace home bedspreads, sewn into a snuggly opera coat and the most haute of couture ballgowns. Or maybe she just decided to pun on the idea of a fashion ‘house’ – her sense of humour is sharp, slightly sardonic, and she’s always happy to send up both herself and the house of Versace, lightly. Because she’s serious about fashion, she can make fun of it too.

“With this collection I am not following any rules,” Versace stated, before her show. “Only the rules of the Versace DNA.” And that was what was so wildly exhilarating about this outing, staged in a vast disused tram station in the north of Milan. Granted, the venue was incongruous – shouldn’t Versace be in a palazzo, or a stadium hall with spotlights beaming? Or, indeed, perhaps in the Teatro alla Scala – a component of this collection was inspired by Gianni Versace’s costumes for ballet in the 1980s, a series of swirling crinoline tutus in black velvet ‘upskirting’ to reveal slashes of acid-colour Versace prints at the show’s finale. The same peeked out of floor-length tailored coats, and sometimes escaped, swirling across blousy tops and clinging bodycon leggings that riffed strong on vintage Versace.

And you know what? This was a vintage Versace collection itself, in the sense that it’s one that will be remembered, referenced, and hunted for by buyers in the future. Like those blankets around Versace’s pumped-up 1990s himbos, Donatella pushed this one just far enough. And it was great.

Archival references abounded, both direct – studded pockets were drawn from a 1991 collection, while a pair of frayed metallic evening gowns referenced Donatella’s first-ever Atelier Versace haute couture collection from July 1998. There were nods, too, to her brother’s own final Atelier collection – taking us back to a key juncture both in the house’s history, and her life. They are inextricable – when she hit two decades in the creative director role, rather than a celebration it was a sombre reminder. “For me, it’s 20 years since my brother passed away,” she told me. And when I once asked her what Versace meant to her, she replied “It’s my name.” Then, she paused. “It’s me.”

This collection felt profoundly, deeply personal to Donatella, and to Versace. It wasn’t embedded in the archives, but certainly its self-reference and reverence was more overt than of late. There was innovation though, too – because Versace was always about looking to both the past and future. In the early 1980s, Gianni created evening-gowns from a light metal mesh more commonly used in aeronautic engineering – the resultant dresses had the feel of medieval chain mail. Here, Donatella and her design team used 3D printing to engineer a dress, bustier and skirt, in recycled nylon polymers with crystal inserts. It wound up looking like armour, too.

Those original chain-mail dresses apparently did a rousing business in America – at one point, they outstripped sales of the rest of the collections put together. Some conjectured that that was about a country buying a past it didn’t experience first time around – which, perhaps, links to today, to young consumers snatching up Versace prints and retro nods to collections they are either too young to remember clearly, or perhaps weren’t even born (depends if we’re talking millennial or Gen Z here). There is definitely a rampant interest in vintage Versace – Donatella herself even wore it for her own bow at the end of this show.

But, again, vintage means more at Versace than anywhere else. It isn’t about celebrating a heritage, or an archive. It’s about celebrating a life – a sister, celebrating her brother. There’s a slight sadness to that, to even the most joyful Versace show, among which this numbers. But there’s also a poignant beauty, and a deep emotion and honesty. That’s why Versace matters so much.