Milan Fashion Week: GUCCI Autumn Winter 2010

Veni. Vidi. GUCCI. That's right whisperatti, The guch has embraced the blogosphere and somehow, I wound up, not only being invited to the show, but sitting in the PRIMO spot: front row, end of the runway, photographic heaven. Too bad all I had was a rinkydink battery operated rescue point and shoot, thanks to my mischievous Marc and its fateful Fendi tumble. But back to the FROW. It was all thanks to the Facehunter giving me the old snappy snap as I was scuttling across the runway. Before I could make for my seat, the PR pulled me on the arm, popped a glass of bubbly in my hand, and sat me down and asked if it was ok. "SI SI SI!!!"  I think it's probably the best view I've had at a show, ever. (Above right: Rachel Zoe is the lady in red, thanks to my shitty little camera.) 

Allora, la collezione. In a word: pure Italian sartorial elegance, easy classic wardrobe staples which will fly off the shelves and remain in closets til climate change overruns us. Tom Ford who? Frida Giannini who's been at Gucci's helm for about four years now, turned out a collection of clean, softly cut nude dresses (silken shifts with peekaboo cut outs or wrapped layers of soft strips of bandage-like fabric) and separates, khaki trenches and immaculately tailored trousers.

Gone was the glitz and glam that oftentimes underwrites the ultraluxe Italian label (ok, sure there was a fantastical shag fur here or a glowing enormous fluffy fox there with a side of delicious suede nutmeg thigh high boots--hemscrapers, if you will--get on the waiting list yesterday). The beige separates, with their bootcut trousers styled with tone on tone blouses, jackets and overcoats had a decidedly 1970's feel.

 Here was a grown up Gucci woman, who loves the way luxury feels on her person, the way precision tailoring flatters her shape, the security of being wrapped in a cloud-soft oversized cashmere blanket, the touch of buttersoft leather or a paper-fine knit on her skin. Luxury more in line with the French aesthetic, radiating nonchalant, effortless ease.

When Giannini went for fur, in most instances, she went for timeless. Feathered foxes in grey, short little cocoa jackets which can be worn day to night with pretty much any look as long as your neighborhood is PETA-free. With its simple palette of white (Frida usually kicks off her shows with the hue) to cream to khaki to grey to oatmeal to chocolate to black (i.e. a rainbow of neutrality) and the cleanliness of its lines, the whole thing felt very 90s minimalism.

Then came the evening groups, and, like Fendi, Gucci was quick to hop on the back to black train...Italian chic is as Italian chic does, of course, and there's little more quintessentially Milanese than a bleach blond all-black skinny trousered (best if leather) enormous sunglassed Donatella mini-me dripping in gems.  Giannini played with texture, working bundles of ostrich feathers into bustled minis teamed with biker leather jackets, and Chanel Iman worked a feathered top a la birds' nest worn over a simple black shift with reptilian lace printed tights.

Sheer hand beaded short frocks, some paired with ostrich arms, others with a deep plunging neckline, are sure to be easy red carpet staples for the unadventurous yet banging body-gifted starlette in the season ahead.

So while Giannini didn't push any sartorial envelopes with this one, she didn't really have to: Gucci gives the girls what they want.