Alberto Caliri’s time at Missoni feels less like a series of hard resets and more like one long, ongoing sentence. Each show picks up exactly where the last one left off—no plot twists, no dramatic pivots, just a few carefully chosen additions that quietly make the whole thing richer. “This show starts where the previous one left off,” he said, plainly. “I’m partial to consistency.” Which, in a fashion landscape addicted to whiplash, feels almost radical.

Caliri knows the Missoni archives like muscle memory. After years inside the house, he doesn’t treat its history like something fragile or sacred—more like something lived-in. He opens drawers confidently. Pulls references without dusting them off too much. Less archivist, more trusted insider who knows exactly what still works and what doesn’t need explaining.

For fall, he went back to images from a 1978 Missoni presentation in Milan—models posed in loose, pliable knits, elongated masculine cardigans layered into fluid, almost languid silhouettes. “There’s always something masculine in the Missoni mix,” he said. And that thread ran straight through this collection.

Layering did the heavy lifting. Masculinity was turned up, silhouettes ballooned outward, everything stacked and stratified. Knits that usually coax the body gently instead pushed into bulk territory—intentionally. While fashion at large is still clinging tightly to ’90s lithe minimalism, Caliri seems entirely unbothered. He’s doing his own thing. Calmly. Consistently.

Coats, bombers, cardigans, blazers—thrown on one over the other like getting dressed on a cold morning with no intention of stopping. Scarves and shawls slung on top for good measure. Wide-leg, pin-tucked trousers slouched low and loose, sealing the whole inflated mood. And then there were the big blazers—oversized, wide-collared—appearing to be tucked into skin-tight tube skirts… except they weren’t tucked at all. They were attached. One piece. A single dress that hugged below and billowed above. Clever? Absolutely. Flattering? Debatable. But that wasn’t really the point.

Where Caliri never misses—never—is color. And texture. Even the looks that read as monochrome at first glance revealed themselves, up close, to be intricate studies in variation: multiple shades of the same color, different yarns, different weights, all humming together quietly. In a collection this oversized, that kind of restraint and subtlety actually lands harder.

It’s not loud. It’s not trendy. It’s not trying to prove anything. But in its own steady, voluminous way, it says plenty.