Maria Grazia Chiuri, high priestess of maximal minimalism, has decided to play on home turf for her cruise collection. Ten years after making Rome vibrate with her cell phone, she returns with “Mirabilia Romae.” Rome, an open city, or how to try to surpass a decade-old moment of glory in a city that has seen Julius Caesar, Fellini, and the scooter from Roman Holiday.

For a presentation at the Villa Albani Torlonia, which represents a transition between Baroque and Neoclassicism, Gracia, in a peplum version on LSD, immerses us in an artificial mist so thick that it looked like Russell Crowe appeared in a skirt, still searching for his inner gladiator. A light rain fell right as the show began, as if the departed couturiers were weeping with sadness from the very beginning.

But Chiuri, a skilled tamer of symbols, transformed the ambient humidity into a stylistic argument: “It’s Rome weeping with beauty,” she is said to have whispered backstage, cheerfully echoed by the plague attachés in the audience.

A clever mix of striking vestal virgins and warriors on sabbatical, dresses embroidered to the point of exhaustion, and capes that would make the Pope look like a philistine. The models paraded as if they carried the legacy of the Roman Empire on their shoulders. Like a tribute to heritage, to feminine power, to Rome, to fashion, to the weather, to Cinecittà, to the tragic beauty of an espresso that’s poorly measured for an American. In short, to everything that can justify a blockbuster budget. Between the haughty glances, the perfectly posed poses, and the tiny bags held like relics, it was hard to tell whether it was a fashion show, a Botox & Prada version of the Imperial Senate, or a call to girlfriend-starved kitty-eaters.

Dior in Rome is a bit like a sumptuous, baroque, slightly absurd Visconti film, yet impossible to look away from. Maria Grazia, mission accomplished, Rome hasn’t been conquered, but simply numb with boredom.

FM