Milan was a fashion week of celebrations. On the anniversary front, Fendi commemorated its centenary and Dsquared2 honoured three decades of sex and glam. There were also some pyres, the first pertaining to the rumoured sale of Versace (a potential acquisition by Prada is amongst the hubbub, they have previously owned a stake in Gucci), and the second at Jil Sander, where the wonderful life and work partners Luke and Lucie Meier bowed out—we can imagine with minimal fuss, as only those minimalists can. There were also some notable absences at Tom Ford and Bottega Venetta (for the time being) where recently-appointed creative directors Haider Ackermann and Louise Trotter are preparing for later seasons debuts.

If we were to take away any key trends, it would be fur, namely coloured fur, British-y mannish woven textiles, the ‘Jazz Age’ and a persistence of the aughts. Offered as an orchestral piece beneath two interlocking ‘Gs’, Gucci’s collection was presented minus creative director Sabato de Sarno after he exited the house on the 6th of February. The show was formed by an assembled team of in-house designers who pulled something together expeditiously, giving us a show of some of the greatest hits/bits from the designers of recent (and longer) tenure: Alessandro Michele, Frida Giannini and Tom Ford. The opening look had a fur coat that was cut the same (and with the same collar) as Ford’s iconic Fall/Winter 1995 collection, worn by Amber Valetta. Here it was in beaver brown and worn over a heather-coloured camisole with a matching skinny waist belt with gold hardware and a knee-length tweed skirt. The outfits that followed ran the gamut of the ‘60s and ‘70s when Gucci was associated with the well-travelled haute monde.

A strong point of departure was the colour, which was applied complementarily across both parts of the show. There were shots of dark violet, peridot and the palest of pale yellow offered in plush wool outerwear and, later, in a patent leather skirt suit. In a nod to Ford’s hyper-sexualisation of the brand in the ‘00s, we saw lingerie—underwear as outerwear. In the efforts of building a style narrative, the lace details of such lingerie were incorporated into a long-sleeved covered-up dress in dark violet, which felt very Michele, especially as it was worked back with ginormous fluffy court shoes. The second act included slim silhouettes that are proving a bellwether for the season, moving away from the relaxed, baggy menswear that has predominated for so long. Whilst some of the styles could be mistaken for a more muted version of the suits and sunglasses combinations worn by Adam Driver as Maurizio Gucci in The House of Gucci (albeit with a deeper revere on the suit jacket), they still felt distinct.

The bright palette at Gucci’s was also present at Marni. The treatment and combinations that Francesco Rizzo chose were, however, distinguishable. There was a supreme courage and conviction in Rizzo’s ability to mix Chefchaouen blue with maple, Naples yellow, and the contrast of Valentine pink and brown within one garment—like Neapolitan ice cream sans the vanilla. There was also a whole spectrum of green. What the proliferation of colour, texture, print and embellishment did in this show is set Rizzo’s authorship apart from many luxury brands that are struggling to retain (or even obtain) a foothold in the market. The silhouettes were just as brave too, with low-waisted dresses, big fur collars, astrakhan trims, jackets spliced in two, and cocoon-shaped Crombies with contrasting collars and pocket edges. In terms of a time of origin, or way of locating reference to all of the dizzying colour, the drape, and the variation of cuts, you could look to 1930s Paris, or maybe Berlin in the 1920s as the European city of culture. There was nothing remotely plaintive—no yearning to be felt here—just erotic potential to boot. The last ten looks featured works by visual artists Olaolu Slawn and Souldier Boyfriend. The use of their original imagery was not straight-up print placement; some images bled across two garments (one suit had a skirt with inverted pleats and a Monte Carlo tulip splashed on the front), a wolf created from sequin appliqué that entered from stage left. The final and closing look was a black and burnished gold bougainvillea that trailed across the front of a dress before bowing over the model’s shoulder.

Despite being part of the Milan schedule, Glenn Martens at Diesel took us on an imaginative journey to the United Kingdom for a dreamed-up meeting of the late Queen Elizabeth and couturier and perfumer Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel. Martens imagined the two getting sozzled on brandy, and this collection is a result of those impossible conversations. Staged within a cavernous space draped with colourful graffiti on raw cloth, the opening look was a Diesel derivative of the famous nubbly tweed jacket designed in 1954, but in lead grey. It was, after all, the British Duke of Westminster who introduced the canny Chanel to the tweed textile in Scotland in the mid-1920s. But here, in the 2020s, the style of jacket was worn with a peplum or micro, nay, nano-skirt, with knickers underneath, all in denim with an enzyme wash finish.

The same grey palette followed in the next three looks, dipping deeper into charcoal for one bouclé skirt suit combination, with coats paired back with jeans before giving way to tweed-print leggings. A men’s outfit comprising a navy coat and pants was pure Lizzy, despite the monarch having been photographed in pants only four times. There was so much humour in the generous cut, its appearance armour-like, with pockets at hip length and fuller pants underneath. Next came a fitted tweed version and a procession of distorted digital houndstooth fabrications. These were applied to jackets, skin-tight trousers, a jacket, and, in increasingly distressed form, on separates. Chunkier distressed tweed was reintroduced in a longer silhouette, as was colour. Shades that included radioactive yellow, candy pink and web orange appeared in separates—tops, skirts, and nano-minis—woven into a tweed print that took on the effect of TV static. These introduced the final section of streetwear separates: washed leather jackets, half-zip sweaters, a parka, puffers and an interesting take on clothing that appeared shrink-wrapped on the front.

Moving from an imagined party to one that celebrates thirty years of business, Dsquared2 gave us an unabashed camp birthday. The Canadian-born and raised Milan-based twin brothers Dean and Dan Caten have had a career that spans outfitting Madonna’s ‘Don’t Tell Me’ music video followed by her Drowned World’ tour (2002). The attendees included Doechii, Naomi Campbell, Tyson Beckford, Alton Mason and Isabeli Fontana. The clothes traced the filmic and pop-culture tropes of North America: a passing autocade of hustlers, gauchos, biker boys, grunge ‘Cinderwhores’, ragtime girls, sophomores among others. The proportions of many of the initial outfits were exaggerated in line with what is happening on the street, whereas later looks leaned more 00’s nostalgia.

As the pulse of show rose, thus did the sense of celebration. We were transported to the discotheque and the sexotheque by an abundance of leather, sequins and a hooded cerise jumpsuit. Two male models in full leatherman attire complete with motorcycle cap then injected pure sex in the vein of Marlon Brando in The Wild One. The closing looks included ivory and black dinner tuxedos, and women in 70s Bob Mackie-esque dresses (one was very Cher with her high arched brows and soft pout). Naomi Campbell closed the show in thigh-high leather boots and a leather jacket leotard, which laced up through the waist. Her hair was tousled and impossibly high. There was a sense of jubilation and of the assembled models, many of whom are friends of the house, trailing off to jump into a big yellow taxi.

Meanwhile, we’re on the train—let’s face it, probably the coach, more so spiritually—off across to Paris.