Looking at La Famiglia, it’s natural to think of those imperfect families where every character is different, yet a shared language endures, and, despite everything, genuine affection prevails. Here, fashion doesn’t unite through similarity, but through attitude. Gucci stages a web of relationships, tensions, and desires, much like a novel exploring the tumultuous and passionate bonds of Italian families of the past. La Famiglia is not only the title—it is the lens through which to read a pivotal moment in the Maison’s history. With this collection, Demna begins to reveal the outlines of his vision, even before declaring it openly. It is a process of excavation and emotional accumulation. And it shows. Photographed by the renowned Catherine Opie, the campaign creates a collective portrait that seeks not harmony, but coexistence. Each figure carries a distinct personality, almost theatrical and exaggerated, yet never slipping into costume. Here, fashion serves to differentiate, to tell stories of identities that brush past one another, observe one another, and sometimes collide. It is an extended, dysfunctional, intensely alive family—and it is precisely there that Gucci finds a form of truth.
Demna plays with the body, returning to sculpted, precise silhouettes: jackets that embrace the figure, fitted shirts, suits that feel tailored to the wearer’s body. Voluminous excesses are gone; oversize is set aside in favor of calibrated elegance. From leather mules worn with the heel free to slender loafers, every piece communicates lightness and confidence. Historic prints intertwine with nods to the 2000s, from low-rise jeans to reimagined men’s sandals, while logos appear as subtle reminders of Gucci’s heritage. Each garment tells a small story: the Sciura with a fur collar, the Ragazza in a miniskirt, the Bomba with an unbuttoned shirt—all characters coexisting in a wardrobe that is simultaneously nostalgic and strikingly contemporary.
“From the very beginning, I shaped the collection by imagining a constellation of characters, asking myself what Gucci means to me, from its archive to the many identities it embodies. I gathered an imaginary family to carry the story, each figure holding a fragment of the broader narrative.”
The Maison’s historic codes are grouped and layered together, much like a director working with a vast visual archive. He renders them tense, sensual, unpredictable. It almost feels as if the designer is having fun reworking the clichés of the most iconic Italian characters from cinema and literature, transforming them into contemporary archetypes. An Italy emerges, but not the plasticized postcard version—an Italy of strong personalities, instinctive gestures, and an elegance from a bygone era that needs no explanation. Here, sprezzatura is not an aesthetic concept; it is a physical attitude: a crushed heel, a coat worn like an emotional armor, a tailored suit worn with an almost immortal poise. The soundscape is unmistakable: the lightness and verve of Fred Buscaglione’s Italy is palpable, with Guarda che luna accompanying the characters’ gestures, their poses, and the sway of the red coat worn by the Incazzata.
The characters do not pose—they inhabit the space. The wardrobe becomes a second skin, amplifying the temperament of its wearer. Some dominate the scene effortlessly, others move along the edges with quiet elegance, while some use color as a statement of intent. Everything contributes to a shared visual language, built from subtle recognitions and iconic details in which Demna’s signature is immediately apparent.
In La Famiglia, Gucci seems to convey a very clear message: identity is never singular. It is the product of contradictions, of layered shared memories, of individual desires that find a collective form. It marks the beginning of something slowly taking shape, yet with certainty. And looking at these images, there is a distinct sense that the most compelling story is still to come.
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