You could almost smell the palm trees sizzling under the blistering Miami Boulevard sun, mixed with just a robust whiff of Drakkar Noir and, perhaps, gasoline, at Roberto Cavalli today in Milan, where the designer bottled up the genus of the Miami Boulevard playboy circa. 1982. Models swaggered around an authentic Ferrari Daytona, positioned ceremoniously on the catwalk in a way only Sonny Crockett could appreciate, clad with clout in an explosion of club Tropicana prints, textures and cuts.
Even Cavalli revealed that rather than draw on his own Italianate jet-set recollections of the Seventies and Eighties, which seemingly positively pales in comparison to the south of Florida, “because Miami gives me more chance to use palms and big flowers”, so he said. Skin was oh so organically on exhibition, revealing all the right areas thanks to floaty shirts opened to the waist.
Towards the lower regions you’d be spoiled for choice if loose fitted airy slacks contrasted against skin-tight leather are within your comfort zone, if so, your tongue will certainly be wagging once you cop a glimpse of the crocodile embellished leathers. Henceforth a trend emerges for all things ferocious, with a sweet, sour and spicy melange of snakeskin, spotty leopard and zebra print caftans. It just doesn’t let up either, rolled up sleeves expose more muscle; dark sunglasses result in more pseudo-brooding from Cavalli’s playboys, and I think there may have even been a pencil-thin moustache or two.
What is clear is that Cavalli does everything with love, see inscribed on the Daytona’s number plate, yet a love that still results in stylish clothing whatever decade you want to resign them to. But in fact, one of the only clear notions of a lapse in time between 2014 and saying hello to a certain notorious Cuban’s little friend back in 1983, was the hairless chests, but wasn’t it just a divine way to end Milan on a high note?
by Liam Feltham
Images courtesy of Style.com