For the past three years, Giorgia Tordini and Gilda Ambrosio have shown their collections in a series of sumptuous private Milanese residences. Each season, they would reveal to the jaded fashion throng a secret address, as well as some decadent hip-chick basics: silk embroidered kimonos, glimmer platforms, fringed and embroidered party frocks, velvet evening pouches. The intimacy of the spaces matched the boudoir sensibility of the clothes well. This time, in a small historic parking garage near Via Montenapoleone, all has changed. As Tordini says, “The Attico woman has finally left the apartment.”
The Attico woman, it would seem, now seeks refuge in a white, low-slung sports sedan from the late ’70s or early ’80s, possibly her mother’s car, which her mother never drove after becoming a mom. “The Attico woman is definitely one who doesn’t want a driver,” said Giorgia Tordini, who designs the collection together with Gilda Ambrosio. This means not only that she is an independent spirit, but Tordini literally referred to the collection of white supercars parked in the garage as part of a flamboyant installation. “But she is so vain that she cannot renounce to hang images of herself on the walls,” added Ambrosio, pointing at the oversize pictures of the brand’s look book, starring Lindsey Wixson, decorating the space.
The clothes also resemble what that same mom might have worn back then, in the throes of her wild-child, disco-heartbreaker youth: strong shoulders, puffed skirts, encrusted boleros, sassy jumpsuits, crushed-velvet leggings, silver jersey, and metallic leather and sparkle galore. As in every Attico collection, the colors are mostly vibrant (fuchsia, cerulean, emerald, garnet), and there are feathers for days (hanging off gloves, bags, and bodices). With this collection, Tordini and Ambrosio are themselves stepping out, much like their imagined client.
The overall feel was definitely maximalist. Supercars, giant colorful pictures and most of all models dressed in a kaleidoscopic array of Eighties’ outfits showing shiny metallic fabrics and bright tones.
“We’ll speak in the morning, she says.”
Trotting on cone-shaped stilettos, wrapped in a metallic humongous-shouldered blouson and trousers tied in a bow at the ankle, the woman takes the elevator, leaves the penthouse and hits the city with her sports car. No, she doesn’t need a driver. She’s in control and speeds up, faster and faster. Comme un ouragan. Fast, frantic, furious. This season the woman is luxuriating in another plunge into the bold-shouldered, candy-wrapped, unabashed excess of the Eighties, complete with sash belts, banana shaped trousers and boxy, curvaceous jumpers swarming in abstract jacquards. Risqué is her thing, just like a smattering of the animalier and a bevy of feathers and sequins, and she knows how to play with it: in a herringbone blazer, ruffle top and spandex trousers for instance, or in a metallic rainbow coat with matching miniskirt. In a white dress with an unapologetic slit, too; in dancing crystal fringes or covered in red sparkle as she shows off white thigh-high boots. Colors are complacently bright, shoulders are pleasantly massive, waists are invariably cinched, and feet are either shod in booties, platforms or spiky sandals. Drama would not be drama, of course, without opera gloves and opera purses to complete the look.
After all, The Attico is a mindset: redolent of hedonism, suffused with excess, sparkling all around. It’s all about living large, and enjoying it, whichever way possible.
Scanning the place, the woman is eager to go out and speed up, but is lingering for a moment, undecided on which one of her vintage white cars better matches her outfits, and her plans for the night. Of course, it’s never about one car for her, but several ones, chosen with unremitting taste to complement everything else in her life. She’s a collector after all. She collects whatever takes her fancy: adventures, dresses and, why not, cars. She’s all for that urge of owning it and enjoying it. The woman of The Attico is now ready for the new adventures. She’s driving fast, in the night. Catch her if you can.
Author: Tanja Beljanski