The Ponte Sant’Angelo didn’t tremble under the march of lions, but under a show so over-the-top it made Anna Wintour’s Met Gala look like a Mormon birthday party. Picture this: chic church ladies, but Italian and not even heaven could have predicted this baroque-gladiator-catholic-fantasmagoric whirlwind. After Puglia came the ragazzi with rags and rhinestones.

Emperor Hadrian built this bridge in 136 AD to connect the city center to his tomb. Tonight, the guests sat in a silence so holy it could’ve raised saints except for Chiara Ferragni, of course, livestreaming the whole thing like a TikTok televangelist freshly escaped from prison. And then… BOOM! The gates opened.

And there they were: cardinals in gold-lamé capes, gladiators oiled up like summer burratas, and togas dripping in golden sequins marching in Roman rhythm all designed to delight Giorgia Meloni, our very own female Benito. It felt like Gladiator, haute couture edition, sponsored by the Vatican and directed by Fellini on a sugar high.

Each look screamed “In couture veritas!” But is it wearable? Only if you’re grocery shopping with Beyoncé in the Pantheon of fashion while sitting on the lap of a Good Samaritan at Châtelet. I saw a similar collection recently by a young Parisian designer named Dgena the kind of internet miracle we used to just call plagiarism.

The grand finale was nothing short of sacred: a model riding a litter carried by six skinny altar boys, crowned with an XXL tiara and dressed in a liturgical LED-lit gown, tossing flower petals like divine confetti an ode to Rome, or maybe just a confusing Instagram campaign. But who needs clarity when you’ve got 80-centimeter crosses to banish the demons of your annus horribilis?

Let’s just hope you don’t run into a glittered centurion in the back room ready to… enlighten you spiritually. But tell me, Lord is that still a sin?

FM