After New York and Tokyo, Francesco Risso brought his spring collection to Paris “to continue amplifying connections among our global community,” he said at a preview. “I’m in a flâneur state of mind.” It sounded like he was giving the word “peripatetic” an ineffable coating of je ne sais quoi. Showing in the Ville Lumière also gave him permission to savor bites of some rather personal Proustian madeleines.
The day before the show, previews were held at the OTB headquarters, in whose attic Risso and his crew had been “squatting” to prep for the show, transforming the space into a Marni-fied kids’ playground—walls and floors hand-painted with skies, shooting stars, and comets, with vivid fleurs en découpage scattered everywhere. Risso recounted that the idea of showing in Paris came “from a scent and a crossover of coincidences.” The first time he visited the city he was 14, and at a party he met by chance “a beautiful creature, who suddenly disappeared, leaving behind only a faint whiff of perfume,” he explained. That subtle French flutter haunted him for years, making him travel to Paris only in the hope of smelling it somewhere again. He never found it, but the magic of Paris was forever imprinted in his memory and olfactory functions. That was the first madeleine.
The second was less elusive and more fortuitous. As a teenager, Risso used to visit his friend Serena in Paris at her parents’ house in the chic 7th arrondissement; their neighbor was the late Karl Lagerfeld, whom they spied on obsessively, waiting for him to appear all-black clad in Rue de l’Université “as if he were Michael Jackson.” Recently, scouting for this show’s location, Risso was presented with the possibility of using Lagerfeld’s little Versailles. Et voilà—dots were connected.
The private apartments and the formal gardens of the fabulous hôtel particulier where Lagerfeld spent many years were colonized by Marni and its audience, who sat (rather wobbly) on tubular white inflatables (a Risso fixation) snaking through the opulent gilded salons. A series of small orchestras, dressed in surgical white vinyl lab coats, performed music by Dev Hynes, a frequent Risso collaborator. Almost 45 minutes past showtime, Usher and Erykah Badu made their majestic entrance—him wearing a red-flame polka-dotted puffy ensemble, her sporting a trailing cape and a hat so monumental, you only felt grateful not to be seated behind her.
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