By Serena Tibaldi
The passengers on the motorboat are furiously snapping pictures with their smartphones as the Rialto Bridge appears. The structure, which is under restoration, is partly covered: They are trying to capture the billboard that dominates the scaffolding and announcing Becoming Marni, the show created for the Venice Art Biennale by the Italian brand and dedicated to the Brazilian artist Véio. The enthusiastic photographers are none other than Consuelo Castiglioni, her husband Gianni, and their children Carolina and Giovanni. Essentially, they are Marni.
The giant poster marks the final stage of the celebration of the twentieth anniversary of the brand created by Consuelo. But judging from their excitement (chaotic moments to snap group shots ensued), none of the four have lost that sense of wonder from the early days. “Everyone thinks that after a while, seeing someone wearing your pieces becomes second nature, but it has never been like that for me,” reflects Consuelo a few hours later as she looks out over a very busy Grand Canal. “The surprise of meeting someone who chose to spend money on one of my ideas never changes. How do you get used to that?”
It goes without saying that this attitude is not surprising for someone like her – she definitely doesn’t belong to the designer-superstar category for whom the cult following goes hand and hand with what they create. Petite, quiet, shy and cheerful, Consuelo Castiglioni is the antithesis of certain types of extremism. Marni was actually founded in 1994 as a response to that kind of hedonistic and ostentatious fashion. One look, and it is easy to see how the style of that time had little or nothing to do with her: it was hard for her to dress. “That’s for sure! But that isn’t even what made me create my own collection. In the end, it all came down to great recklessness on my part and deep love on the part of my husband, who has always supported me in everything I do.”
The Castiglioni family founded Ciwifurs, a symbol of Italian fur, in the 1950s. Consuelo started from there. For her, everything was tied to her family: Marni is the nickname of Gianni’s sister Marina, and the collection began with the furs they were working on in their workshops.
Stylistically, there was only one road to take. Others created clothing for women who dressed for the opinions of others. So she devoted herself to women who dressed for themselves. She shaved mink so it looked like fabric; she got rid of lapels, buttons, decorations and linings; she lengthened hems, raised necklines and played with naïf prints when everything else was about sexy seductresses. And she invented the “fussbetts” as she calls them: the flat, wide and comfortable sandals that became an identifiable feature of her silhouette. It was sacrilegious at that time. “An English journalist described them as ugly shoes,” she says, more puzzled than offended. “I think a woman walking with confidence is so elegant, so of course that’s better than wobbling on high heels. Oh, and Gianni didn’t want to give in, he couldn’t understand how I could like those sandals. He finally caved and now, more and more men understand their beauty. I am not aggressive, but when I decide on something, I don’t give up easily.”
She later reflects that it’s not about being stubborn. She just knows that at a certain point, you have to make a choice and take a stand. That is what she regularly does, and good for her. Consuelo knows how to create collections that outlive disposable fashion, perfect for attracting those who think outside the box, those who think the real sin would be conforming to a stereotype. The first one to embrace the message – the men’s line arrived on the scene in 2002 – were the English, and the others flooded in later.
She was raised in Lugano and is one-fourth Chilean – her grandmother was from Chile and one of her greatest regrets is not having visited the country – and