"Fashion In Smoke"

 Milan’s Hollow Bravado / Milan is busy flexing, but the critic sees through the muscle. Prada sends out its usual architectural severity, coats that look like they were drafted by engineers rather than dreamers. Ferragamo tries to polish heritage into relevance, but the leather feels more like boardroom than runway. Cavalli, once the wild child, now parades animal prints like a tired circus act, ferocity reduced to costume jewelry. Bottega Veneta, the darling of minimalism, keeps weaving its leather fantasies, but the repetition is starting to feel like a luxury algorithm rather than artistry.  And then the debuts, Maria Grazia Chiuri stepping into Fendi, Meryll Rogge at Marni, Demna’s Gucci takeover. Chiuri’s feminism has long been commodified, slogans stitched into silk, empowerment sold at couture prices. Rogge risks being swallowed by Marni’s eccentric politeness, her edge softened into quirk. Demna at Gucci? It’s déjà vu of Balenciaga’s dystopia, repackaged for Kering’s empire. The critic’s eye sees corporate maneuvers dressed as revolution, boardroom decisions masquerading as risk. Milan thrives on spectacle, but spectacle without substance is fragile. The runways dazzle with neon futurism, silhouettes stretched to extremes, but it’s smoke, beautiful in the moment, gone when the lights fade. Innovation is not remix, and boldness cannot be manufactured by repetition. Milan’s fashion is a performance of risk, not risk itself. The critic demands courage, not theater. Right now, Milan is leaning hard on illusions and the critic is not impressed.