“This is endless,” observed my seatmate. And that was before the 40-look finale—featuring some excellent disassembled American sportswear and much, much more of the multi-layered Antonio Marras-mixed orgy of montage and mélange we had just witnessed—walked around a galvanizing group of couples jiving and twisting.
You could argue that Marras could do with some hard-nosed editing. Yet that would suppress the exuberance that makes him such a particularly joyful and spiritually abundant designer. If not quite endless—just 115 looks or so—what of it? I’ve got a lot time for Antonio Marras.
