"Hedge funds, hedge funds, hedge funds," Richard David Story, the editor of Departures, the magazine for American Express premium cardholders, said before the Ferragamo show on Sunday when asked to account for the current mood in men's fashion and what looks like newly set markers for giddy excess.
To judge from all the US$700 cotton poplin trousers (Bottega Veneta), US$250 flip-flops (Hermes) and US$20,000 satchels in matte tobacco crocodile (Tod's) on offer, the fractional-jet-share crowd has coffers so deep that there'll be plenty left over for chronographs or John Currin paintings.
Whether these customers are real or imagined, the idealized notion of them appeared to dominate many designers' offerings for spring 2008, all pitched to a guy with both a high net worth and a 30-inch waist.
"Preppy deluxe," is how one editor characterized Tomas Maier's solid collection of high-end slouch-wear for Bottega Veneta: glazed linen three-piece suits; rumpled jackets with zippered detachable sleeves; and soft bags in crocodile, ostrich and deerskin, which, the designer indicated, "reflect the careless elegance of the clothing."
As in seasons past, Maier's clothes were an elaboration of the insouciant formality that characterizes good Neapolitan tailoring. Still, they could also be mistaken for a billionaire's version of the stuff from a J. Peterman catalog.
That some version of that Bottega Veneta man - lithe, young, carefree in his moneyed assurance - seemed to be everywhere said something about the generally buoyant economic mood in Milan.
His spirit was to be seen in Frida Giannini's slick and well-orchestrated show for Gucci, which presented a tautened version of that same fellow and put him in graphic suits with madras cloth checks rendered in black and white, and trousers that sat just above the pubic bone and biker jackets with grommets and shoes with lethally pointed toes.
He appeared again in shiny trench coats, knife-slim suits and a muted palette at the Versace show, designed this season by the Russian-born Alexandre Plokhov, formerly of Cloak. He was spotted at Roberto Cavalli's unexpectedly restrained show held in a cavernous disco near Linate Airport wearing not the leopard spots and junky rocker paraphernalia one expects from this designer, but instead the subdued suits and the slouchy suede driving shoes favored by the Maserati crowd.
Another avatar of the hedge-fund hottie turned out at Valentino's brand-consistent presentation, notable as usual for natty Roman tailoring styled in a way that is often more than a little bit campy. Wasn't that double-breasted white jacket nipped at the waist once a uniform of sorts among the high-end gigolos populating the piazzetta in Capri?
Bigbucks was here again at the Salvatore Ferragamo show, conjured this time wearing sharp-edged suits of white cotton (with accompanying gloves), handsome tweedlike cotton blazers or faintly feminine evening clothes (a kind of shiny hoodie) that suggested a time in the future when it will be the man who needs help with his zipper before leaving the house.
"It's more cool now to be refined," said Massimiliano Giornetti, the young Ferragamo designer. "It's cool to wear a jacket again on the weekend and in the evening and in your spare time."
It is particularly cool if you happen to be in Milan when, in a not-altogether-accountable spirit of optimism, the city cracks open the oaken doors to its fabled palaces and cloisters and turns them into party rooms.
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