Under David Koma’s watch, Blumarine has shed its girlish skin and stepped into a darker, more dangerous light. The butterfly, once a delicate emblem, now tears from its chrysalis like a heroine from a Victorian Gothic novel, dripping with femme fatale allure.
The Koma treatment consisted in a collision of Blumarine’s softness with a nocturnal edge—flirtatious innocence curdled into intrigue, the fairy turned sulfurous. “I was inspired by Gothic literature and grand, romantic love stories,” he mused. “I imagined my own version of Dracula. His daughter’s wedding in Italy—who she would invite and how many looks she would demand.” Ça va sans dire: This would be no bourgeois affair. Fragile butterflies were dethroned and replaced by bejeweled crosses swinging from chains and crystal-studded spiders perched on high-heeled sandals, while the few that survived were transfixed as 3D embroidery to nude chiffon so sheer it clung like cobwebs or morphed into the camouflaged dots of leopards. Dragonfly wings, once translucent, were recast in silver—less gossamer, more armor.
The parade of fairy-meets-Goth Blumarine Valkyries swept in wearing hauntingly beautiful, formfitting creations: Intricate plays of ruching, frayed edges, ribbon drapings, plissé, and macramé appliqués were transformed by Koma’s technical wizardry into floor-length gowns with sweeping trains and billowing capes. He brought structure and control to the softness of flou. “I loved exploring Blumarine’s more romantic, flowy side, but with tension woven in,” he explained. “For me, it was about balancing fragility and strength; I wanted something eerie yet enchanting—a dark fairy tale unfolding in an Italian summer. Above all, it was essential to elevate Blumarine to the highest level of silhouette, technique, and craft. I love luxury, couture, and craftsmanship—and in an Italian house, not embracing craft in all its might makes no sense to me.”
