Francesca Versace—yes, of those Versaces—writes in from her jaunts around Milan fashion week.
There’s nothing quite like the feeling of fashion week in Milan, and there’s definitely an electricity in the air today. I love to take a moment and observe the madness at Café Cova—you can watch trends start to happen before your eyes. For this one week, everyone is trying desperately to outdo one another. The sidewalks and streets are the greatest runways of all.
I take in a few shows—the sci-fi looks at Ermanno Scervino, the English roses at Luisa Beccaria—and stop by my friend Kristina’s for a hush-hush fitting before she presents her collection. Then it’s off to the Zegna 100th anniversary party with my father. I see the lovely Anna Zegna, who reminds me that her first and only job outside her family’s company was her time with my late uncle Gianni. I do a tour of the gorgeous new store, designed by the brilliant Peter Marino—and stop to check out some of the chiseled Zegna-clad male models along the way. A man really cannot go wrong with a Zegna suit; it is the utmost mark of elegance and quality.
Finally, I rush over on my bicycle to see a former classmate of mine from Saint Martins, Mark Fast, and his super-hip, super-fun collection for the Italian label Pinko (pictured). Although we’re in a church, the mood is pure disco and high-octane glam. I love that Mark can maintain his vision yet breathe new life into an existing brand—that’s the beauty of these collaborations. The new and the old colliding—on the stores, on the streets, and on the runways.