Brunello Cucinelli held court at his Milan headquarters during today’s men’s presentation, looking the picture of suave confidence. Relaxed, loquacious, and entirely in his element, he regaled the audience of editors and buyers with a stream of Cucinelli-isms: part philosophy, part business lessons, part oracular sermons on the meaning of modern luxury.
And really, who could blame him for being in such buoyant spirits? When your company has just clocked record-breaking annual sales, posting a robust 10.1% rise in revenues, optimism comes as effortless as the aplomb of one his cashmere blazers. While much of the fashion industry appears to be navigating choppy waters, Cucinelli continues to serenely stroll across them in his soft-suede loafers.
Now that he can add “actor” to his résumé, thanks to Giuseppe Tornatore’s newly released movie Brunello, Il visionario garbato [Brunello: The Gracious Visionary], there is little left to cement Cucinelli’s status. The film, a lyrical biopic charting his ascent from humble origins to entrepreneurial stardom, plays less like an investigation than a cinematic endorsement of his worldview. It offers not so much a revelation as a reminder: In Cucinelli’s hands, “gentle growth,” his oft-repeated mantra, is anything but soft, wielded with enough muscle to make competitors reconsider the definition of gentle altogether.
While busy expanding the company, doubling the size of its Solomeo headquarters, adding new men’s tailoring facilities, and even moonlighting as a leading man on screen, Cucinelli remains tunnel-vision focused on the collection: Each piece is personally tried on before being christened into production. The Cucinelli style evolves season after season through minute tweaks in fit and discreet updates in detail, never wavering from its founding credo: flattering the male physique with a finely calibrated indulgence of Italian peacockery.
Half-breasted blazers dominated the collection, hardly surprising given Cucinelli’s belief that a properly cut jacket “gives you posture.” These came with softly built shoulders and a slightly elongated silhouette that dialed up presence while maintaining the house’s trademark disinvoltura: that studied Italian nonchalance that obviously requires meticulous rehearsals. Slightly high-waisted, wide-leg trousers underscored the tailoring’s refined, retro-leaning elegance, while pocketed cargos in thick corduroy added a note of balanced friction.
Cucinelli named the collection Ars Imitatur Naturam, borrowing Aristotle’s line that art imitates nature; a fitting motto for someone obsessed with equilibrium. “I have a great desire for peace,” he said. “I long for a world with respect, grace, humanity, less arrogance and turmoil.”
