What trick will Francesco Risso pull from his magician’s sleeve this time? That’s the anticipation a Marni show generates—every season, an unpredictable sleight of hand, a door swung open to a world that didn’t exist five minutes ago. Risso is one of those increasingly rare creatures in fashion: a true visionary, someone who doesn’t just make clothes but conjures entire universes, where quirk and craft meet in poetic, almost mystical collisions. His work is ineffable and deeply felt, lyrical yet potent—an antidote to an industry currently flailing somewhere between panic and paralysis, either chasing every trend at once or no direction at all.

For Fall, Risso delivered another chapter in his evolving lexicon—a Marni dialect that takes the house’s offbeat DNA and pushes it further, sculpting it into something even more radically expressive. Under his hand, the brand has grown into a living, breathing creative ecosystem—one where clothing is both product and artifact, and where the people involved (designers, artists, wearers) are all interpreters in an ongoing conversation. This approach has yielded some of the most intriguing fashion moments of the last few years, both in terms of garments and the performances that unveil them.

This season’s stage? Marni’s headquarters, transformed into a dimly lit cabaret lounge. The tables and stools were cloaked in hand-painted cloth, courtesy of the Marni design team; dapper waiters in Marni ensembles weaved through the space, martini spritzes in hand. A live score, directed by Dev Hynes, underscored the mood, while the walls flickered with painted canvases from The Pink Sun, a collaboration between Risso and Nigerian artists Olaolu Slawn and Soldier Boyfriend. What began as a chance encounter over aperitifs in London evolved into a month-long residency—a feverish, immersive creative sprint where the three artists shared a studio, spilling their collective energy onto canvases, fabrics, and ideas. “It was liberation,” Risso said backstage. “We were like a pack of happy wolves. We really dared to dream.”

That unfiltered, instinctive creativity bled into the collection itself. “There’s everything I first fell in love with when I started at Marni,” Risso said. “Everything I’ve disrupted, recreated, regenerated. And then there’s the art—it permeates, it pollinates, it takes on a life of its own.”

The result? A fantastical, fearless act of fashion alchemy. Crombie coats swelled into sculptural cocoons; sheath dresses unraveled into rippling pleated skirts. Mini dresses stretched into sinuous gowns; plush sheepskin collars exploded from egg-shaped blousons, layered over pyramid-cut skirts in mock croc. Delicate georgette collided with pony skin; moleskin and mohair tangled together in tactile dissonance. Lush satin formed liquid siren gowns in electric jewel tones, while tulip motifs unfurled across sharply tailored suits.

And then, the details: a black sequined wolf curled across a scarlet pantsuit, as if caught mid-prowl. An opera coat, blindingly bougainvillea pink, bore a three-dimensional flower blooming from its shoulder. Wisps of fur cascaded from an asymmetrical coat, its silhouette carved with razor-sharp precision.

Taken altogether, it was a testament to the rarest, most endangered resource in fashion—uncompromising, unfiltered creativity. And in a world increasingly allergic to risk, Risso’s Marni reminds us why it must be protected at all costs.