Fashioned from crepe de chine in the style of Valentino, it was full-length and high-necked, falling straight down in a manner that reminded Michele of a candle. Embroidered on its reverse, however, was an enormous pink and lilac butterfly—an elegant yet subversive gesture, suggesting metamorphosis and transient beauty.
Four decades after those closet explorations, Michele last year came into possession of another sartorial treasure trove: the archive of the house of Valentino, to which he was appointed creative director in the spring of On his first day at the Valentino offices, in a late-Renaissance palazzo on the Piazza Mignanelli in Rome, Michele immersed himself in an extraordinary storehouse of garments, shoes, and other objects, all of them constructed with an exquisite lightness that belied an almost architectural rigor.
Being loosed into the Valentino archive—and being granted access to the skilled technicians whose know-how underpinned its remarkable contents—gave Michele an unprecedented opportunity: to feed his own imagination by handling, weighing, and reconceiving the material legacy of his vaunted predecessor.
A few decisions remained to be made about accessories and footwear, and last-minute adjustments to hem lengths or necklines. Michele sat on a chair at one end of what had once been a grand reception room, with high ceilings and gilded plasterwork. Long tables were laden with accessories: turbans, eyeglasses, and bags, including a selection of clutches that looked like porcelain ornaments in the shape of a kitten.
Members of his team sat alongside him; his partner, Giovanni Attili, hovered in the background. At the far end of the room, positioned in front of a huge, framed mirror, was an even more enormous mirror. As each model walked toward him, Michele could simultaneously see the outfit from the front and the back, so as to survey its internal consistency and subversiveness—the dialogue between, as it were, high black neckline and vivid embroidered butterfly.
