WAS IT THE tinkling notes of Philip Glass played live on a grand piano that made Valentino’s dance of delicacy seem so exceptional?

 

 

As each model moved gracefully forward, back straight, body held in a dancer’s position wearing a simple, neutral-coloured dress, it seemed like the start of a story.

These were surely ballerinas, living their lives, poised and delicate in dresses illuminated by the light; or going home from the dance theatre, wearing big, ribbed sweaters under sparking dresses.

“We wanted to live together in a moment – it is not just about an object,” said Maria Grazia Chiuri, while her design partner Pierpaolo Piccioli added: “If fashion is a culture, it is not about just clothes, we have to deliver emotion in the dresses”.

Backstage, Giancarlo Giammetti, the original Valentino Garavani partner, hugged the duo saying in Italian: “incredible”. While Dakota Fanning, in a fairy-light dress with dragon embroidery, expressed what everyone was feeling: “so emotional”.

Could there really be such deep feeling about clothes, on the penultimate day of the five-week international fashion shows?

The Valentino duo’s skill is to take a subject – this time the history of expressive modern dance – and move its spirit into clothes that are delicate but in no way costumes.

The show opened with black tailoring – a smart coat or a plain dress, with a portrait neckline and purposeful black boots. Our dancer (or any other modern woman) is striding off to work. For her to change from working girl to ballerina was a slow burn. First came a loosely cut skirt studded with crystal; or a plain, straight skirt with a white shirt hanging loose under a cropped jacket.

Then as the music switched between Phillip Glass and John Cage, a dress became a short black tutu or a neutral shade falling from soft bust to loose hem. Cue for pale shoes with ballet-slipper ribbons.

The move toward an enhanced reality was so seamlessly achieved that in no time a pale fur coat was patterned as if the Ballet Russes had met Russian constructivism. Sunshine yellow then glowed magically out of a golden velvet dress.

But instead of the show turning into a fancy parade, back would come a coat, or a skirt covered by a thick sweater. Performance over. Time to stride home.

This gentle move between reality and realism was as delicate as the way the clothes were made in Valentino’s inimitable Roman studios. A fur cape of pastel squares or a soft dress with beige feathers – both were an example of craftsmanship touched with artistic magic.