“When I first began in this profession, lace carried a ceremonious allure, and I was criticized for daring to profane it by pairing it with sportier pieces,” said Ermanno Scervino backstage. His show opened with the voice of Mina in “Sacumdì Sacumdà”: “One day the devil meets me in the street and says, ‘Come along, no one will see. I have everything you need.’” The lyrics seemed to mirror Scervino’s vision perfectly. He knows what his women want. “When I create, I always ask myself why someone should choose to wear my clothes, and I imagine how she wants to feel when she gets dressed,” he said.
“This collection contains everything I love,” he added. “The constant is creating harmony where none exists.” If he succeeds time and again, it is because he handles fabrics and craftsmanship with mastery. Donegal tweed was transformed into denim. Knitwear was reconceived as outerwear, cut with the sartorial precision of a car coat. The tailored suit became pajamas in featherlight yet structured pashmina. Tartan was rendered as an illusion in weightless worsted wool. Technical nylon jackets were lined with loden or astrakhan—sportswear elevated to a level of refinement. Sweaters, when paired with gold lace mermaid skirts, had an unmistakably evening allure.
For fall, Scervino set out to reconstruct the silhouette, heightening the tension between nipped-in waists and the sweep of voluminous skirts, between the strict architecture of leopard-print ponyskin outerwear and the fluidity of romantic slips. Even the most quotidian imagery was ennobled by embroidery: Lingerie-inspired dresses were laser cut and intricately inlaid, as were shearling coats and denim.
The palette opened with cream and deepened into sinuous black, moving through shades of gray, tobacco, and powder pink, and culminated in flashes of red. The woman imagined here seduces with sophistication and makes even the most ordinary moments feel exceptional—in loafers, with a pair of heels tucked into a mesh bag. Or the other way around.
