Norbert Stumpfl presented this Brioni collection in a private apartment that takes up the 29th and 30th floors of the 1954-constructed Torre Breda. With a few notable exceptions Milan is a low-rise city, so seeing the Brioni clad mannequins came with a dizzying view of Italy’s fashion capital below. And not unlike visiting the Torre, seeing Stumpfl’s work induced a form of sartorial vertigo: this was among the giddily highest level of menswear that Milan has to offer.
Stumpfl’s Brioni formula has refined itself over the seasons. The lavishly wrought wow pieces of his early chapters have been supplanted by a more assured approach. His clothes are absolutely built around tailoring, of which his silk cashmere peak lapeled double-breasted jacket (quite long of skirt and totally unlined and unstructured) was representative. Beyond that foundation were many semi-casual but intentionally exquisite pieces such as a tan nubuck duster coat with crocodile-lined collar, worn half-button shirting in some silky blend and loosely unpretentious linen pants.
After discussing the recent arrival of Brioni’s womenswear (the silk trenches and sleeveless coats are especially fine) in the brand’s network of recently redesigned stores (in the manner of London’s Bruton Street townhouse outpost), Stumpfl considered a mannequin and lamented: “The clothes look their worst as they are at the moment. Once you wear them in and they look a little bit washed and used, they’re going to acquire the imprint of your personality and look a lot cooler.” By example he cited his own favorite coat in nubuck, which is now mapped with scratches courtesy of his poodle Lulu, who jumps all over him every time he comes home from work.
After picking our way through a fountain garnished with liquidly draped garden party tailored looks, then navigating a group of more rugged, workmanlike ensembles in washed cottons (my favorite zone), we emerged onto a patch of lawn: the eveningwear section. If there was wow to be found it would be here, and there was, but of a much more restrained form than before. Considering the black silk evening jacket with a grid of around 40 tufted squares created by the house’s Abruzzo artisans hand lifting the surface layer from the fabric—“it takes two hours per square”—was quite something once you knew that detail, but hardly demanded attention if you didn’t. These were clothes for their wearers and not their watchers to revel in.
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