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Editorial

Eluding your natural inclinations. Francesco Scognamiglio seems to be on the lookout for a personal dimension of daywear. Demonstrating this are the first black dresses, the high-waist trousers with gold zip, the chaste turtlenecks, the black astrakhan outerwear and the super-business-like suit with wraparound jacket in powder pink. But the powersuits and the dresses fit for 6-figure salary managers quickly give way to more disturbing transparencies. The veils so dear to the designer appear intermittently. And this is where he feels more secure; completely nude looks with leather roses adding weight to ineffable tulle or sinuous flowering shoots. There was also sporadic silk lingerie, spectacular coats and blouses exploding in fabric petals. Finding the right measure between the opposites lies in the languid juxtaposition of dusty wool crew neck sweaters and midi length skirts in impalpable liquid silk. A vaporous theatricality that strikes the right balance.