Luchino Magliano hit pause on the runway this season, opting instead for a self-described “sabbatical show” in the form of a short film. He decamped to a small city-center cinema transforming it into CineMagliano, trading catwalk for silver-screen theatrics. In a climate where resources are tight and global turmoil is the backdrop, small brands face hard choices. But constraint breeds creativity—and Magliano thrives on that.
Teaming up with British director Thomas Hardiman of Medusa Deluxe fame, Magliano found a kindred spirit in lo-fi quirk. The pair channeled their affinity for offbeat, provincial communities of outcasts into The Maglianic, an odd voyage set on a traghetto, Italy’s no-frills ferry where comfort is optional and proximity is inevitable. A motley crew of Magliano’s fricchettoni—a distinctly Italian breed of hippies and freaks—sets sail from Olbia in Sardinia to Livorno in Tuscany, the two ports that bookend the ferry’s usual route. Onboard, they sprawl across the deck in varying degrees of discomfort, whiling away the night with games of burraco, furtive kisses, and restless wandering. As dawn breaks, the ragtag troupe drifts toward the bow, drawn by the pale light creeping over the sea; they stand together in a hush, gazing into the misty horizon, sharing an unspoken moment of awe at the first light of dawn. “There’s a Neapolitan proverb that says: Ha da passà ‘a nuttata—the night has to pass”, Magliano reflected. No matter how long or uncertain the crossing, morning always comes.
The need for a sabbatical and the urge to hit reset echoed in the design of the clothes, where elements of free camping shaped silhouettes that Magliano described as “tents for restless bodies.” Relaxed and slouchy garments mingled with flashes of “extreme technicalities:” drawstrings and cords reconfigured coats and blazers on the fly, lending them a lived-in, almost improvised wit. There was a distinct nod to distressed workwear, but filtered through Magliano’s refined, introspective lens. Fabrics were porous, sheer, evocative of the sea mist at dawn. “They want to be ambiguous,” Magliano remarked. Layers of organza and chiffon were pressed like sandwiches into tailored jackets, disrupting structure with softness. A scarf, folded into a lapel, evoked the quiet gesture of pulling a collar tight against the morning chill. “We’ve called it The Dawn Lapel,” he said. Poetry, grit, and pragmatism are stitched into the lining of every Magliano piece.