For his Valentino debut, Alessandro Michele saw the brand mostly one way, referencing its high points in the ’60s and ’70s. Surprised? Or impressed?

The show was scheduled to start at 3pm (Paris time, or 9pm here), but as expected, it did not. We were treated to 30 minutes of watching the guests arriving, all togged in Valentino, all obligated to pose in front of the photo wall. The walking advertisements for Valentino—predictably, Jared Leto, less so, Sammi Cheng (郑秀文)—already were the prelude to what might appear on the runway, which, unexpectedly, was dark and meandered through seating and what appeared to be furniture, art, sculpture, and lamps draped with white sheets, as if a house—or salon, or Pavillon des Folies (Pavilion of Follies), as Valentino called its show—was closing for the owners to go for a long vacation. Or about to be readied for their return. The space was dimly lit, as if in a cabaret of the past, or to make the clothes less scrutinisable. The floor, a vast expanse of cracked mirror, was auto-upskirt video. The music was as dramatic as the setting, and featured a woman singing one long song in at least three languages.

We did not want to dismiss the show as the predicted same-old, same-old, so we watched it thrice. Alessandro Michele’s debut collection for Valentino is as excessive as many had already anticipated it to be. That, he did not disappoint. In fact, he received a standing ovation at the end of the show—admiration of his sticking to his guns. Mr Michele had said in recent interviews to promote his Valentino show that his Gucci was, in fact, inspired by Valentino, especially the house’s designs of the ’60s and the ’70s—no surprise there. We could almost hear him tell himself, welcome home. He was finally able to offer the real deal, except that realness is relative, and Mr Michele cannot resist amplifying what was possibly already expressive enough that he found in the Valentino archives. When the presentation was an onslaught of overmuch, it quickly brought on a sense of déjà-vu. But then we had to remind ourselves that were watching a Alessandro Michele collection.

Considering the context, Alessandro Michele at Valentino perhaps made more sense than he had at Gucci. Back then, there was nothing that ostentatious to reference from the other house (Mr Michele does not do jet-set glamour). But what he did was refreshing, at least in the beginning, until it was not, until it wasn’t even stale bread; it went horribly mouldy. But that early Gucci transformation was not going to happen at Valentino because most of us are, by now, quite sated by the ruffles and florals that collide for those who have not or cannot find the aesthetical garishness jelak. Mr Michele is not the kind of designer who would leave a key-hole neckline alone; he would frame it with gathers and on top of it, plonked on a cartoonish bow. He cannot set a peplumed blouse alone, he has to add flounces across the collar bone. He does not allow tiered skirts to go over bare legs, they have to float above lace-stockinged limps.

The Valentino references, no doubt there, were regrettably, obscured by the Gucci styling and the motley models who must look like they were the misfits of a certain circle, casted to lend an edge to the otherwise prim, even if decorative, clothes. But they were not exactly channeling Marisa Berenson on a night out in Rome in the late ’60s. The styling and the accessories really betrayed him. The problem was, you had to look hard or carefully to see that Mr Michele did attempt to minimise the expected Gucci-ness. Yet, his Valentino is still part gypsy taro card reader, part street urchin turned hipster, part debutante trapped in her grandmother’s armoire. Oh, and those clueless boys who wore what they were told was cool. Were the clothes so bereft of details that scores of accessories had to be piled on the models? Would Valentino be worse off without the silk turbans (or turban-caps), the knit beanies, the veils, head and face jewellery, the geeky eyewear, the bows, the lace gloves, the necklaces, the charm bracelets, the ermine stole, the boho totes, the cat-shaped clutches?

And it was not totally Gucci redux if only because the fit of the clothes were far more precise and the silhouettes generally leaner. Mr Michele could have benefitted from a stronger atelier than the one he inherited at Gucci. But all the structural refinement was lost amid the surfeit of superfluous surface treatment. Some of the evening dresses could really stand on their own without the extra ruffles (or big, floppy hats and the trinket-like jewellery) or whatever shinny cascades that draped over the shoulders. One idea, the layered, gossamer, pleated flounces for the neck, with edges that could have been those of the yunjian (云肩) or cloud shoulder, might have benefitted from a starring role (other Chinese elements used included frog buttons, mandarin collars, and one broad, contrast placket in the style of Qing-era jacket, 马褂 [magua]). But Mr Michele is not inclined to stick to an idea. He needed the world to see that he could juggle many of them and then throw them on the clothes to see which stuck.

Valentino under the watch of predecessor Pierpaolo Piccioli was not by any means minimalist, but neither was it meretricious. The assumption has been that after a long-enough time of “quiet luxury”, the world is ready for the boisterous. Or the until-recently-on-hiatus Alessandro Michele. But it remains to be seen if Valentino customers want Valentino straining behind the veneer of former Gucci. Or if it was time to take out what they already own from the latter. In his typically lengthy, florid, and pretentious show notes, Mr Michele wrote: “We know: when we build beauty, or we spot it in the undifferentiated and chaotic flow of our existences, it feels like being raptured in a state of joy that can tear us away from senselessness. It’s an elusive and incendiary movement that questions our wholeness, acting as a surprising propagator of fullness.” Except that satiated, for some of us (or many?), is really more than enough.

Screen shot (top): valentino/YouTube. Photos: Valentino