What is up chez Cavalli? Apparently the former jungle lothario has moved out of the wild and into more civilized territory. And he’s a bit of a bull in a china shop. Like Paris’ Opéra Garnier last season and the Hall of Mirrors before that, spring’s backdrop, a grand Tuscan garden of sculpted shrubbery, was irrelevant to the clothes — at least to the first group, a series of white chiffons, short and flirty or completely covered-up dresses, appointed with baby blue and pale pink bandana prints. If Cavalli thought making otherwise covered-up Bo-Peep stuff completely see-through was a clever conduit for sexy/sweet or opulent — well, think again. Likewise for the stiff, sculpted Marie Antoinette styles, which were chopped off thigh-high and bustled like a bunny tail — perfect for a Versailles theme party at the Playboy Mansion.
Then, from out of nowhere, slinky black columns, provocatively cut out and affixed with bold geometric jewelry, segued to sweeping psychedelic dresses — the most traditionally Cavalli-esque. Or maybe not anymore.