In the traveling soul of Giambattista Valli, Marrakech was no longer just a destination, but a haunting presence, an oriental melody that vibrated deep within his being. Like a collector of fleeting impressions, he constantly went to breathe the air of its medinas, where the echo of merchants mingled with the intoxicating scents of spices. The secret gardens, edged with exuberant bougainvillea, and the flower stalls, opulent like precious silks, were no longer simple fleeting visions; they had inscribed themselves, with the delicacy of a dream’s imprint, at the very heart of his moodboard, and even to the reins of his marketing inspiration.

For his spring haute couture show, Valli, like an alchemist of dreams, as an oniric odyssey, materialized in voluminous skirts, ethereal with royal caftans, woven in fantasy jacquards that shimmered with a pure gold gleam, like the most precious gold of Byzantine jewels.

A nomadic spirit, a wandering soul, for daywear of luminous impeccability, alongside ceremonial gowns, fluid as whispers, all imbued, with an exquisite delicacy, with the scents of the Maghreb.

Alluring and gentle colors evoked the carnal pomegranate, the mysterious saffron, the tender pistachio, while the prints, delicate as illuminations, recalled the infinite patterns of ancient carpets and the subtle geometry of marquetry. Valli, utterly captivated by this orientalism that seemed to have infused him, once confessed, with the fervor of an intimate avowal, that this was one of the cardinal points of his style, one of the unshakeable pillars of his aesthetic.

FM