Versace Spring Summer 2026 “The Pinacoteca Ambrosiana Experiment”. Story by Eleonora de Gray, Editor-in-Chief of RUNWAY MAGAZINE. Photo Courtesy: Versace.
Milan witnessed a peculiar chapter in fashion history this season: Dario Vitale’s debut at Versace, staged inside the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, a jewel of a museum better known for Leonardo da Vinci’s Codex Atlanticus than for runway theatrics. Prada now owns Versace, Donatella has retreated into the role of brand ambassador, and the archives were ceremoniously handed over to Vitale. The result? Well, let’s say the “school project” spirit of this debut was painfully evident.
Of all the creative directors making first appearances this season, Vitale might have the toughest job—the first outsider in the brand’s history, stepping into a house that practically drips with family mythology. Donatella carried the torch for longer than Gianni himself, and now Vitale, a former Miu Miu womenswear director, finds himself holding the keys. He certainly didn’t lack conviction. Confidence, he has. A sharp sense of what made Versace Versace? That part is still under construction.
Vitale declared he was inspired by Gianni’s late-’80s collections, the ones his mother once collected. Except what came down the runway looked less like Gianni’s slick, razor-edged sex appeal and more like a fumbling attempt at “sexy” from a student still figuring out how buttons and zippers work. Undone belts, half-zipped pants, raw edges, cardigans tied awkwardly over chain-mail skirts—this wasn’t sensual liberation, it was pure amateur hour. Let’s be honest: pants deliberately left open don’t suggest sexual confidence; they suggest a scene from a bad early-adult movie rental circa 2003.
The irony is, Vitale insists this was a gutsy rethinking of Versace’s place in the wardrobe. But Versace was never about timid “everyday.” It was about fantasy, about glossy provocation executed with impossible precision. This version stripped away the slickness and left sacks of fabric pretending to smolder. Instead of power, we got parody.
Color was one of the few redeeming notes—aubergine against orangey red, azure against kelly green—but even that couldn’t mask the hollowness of the silhouettes. And then there was the setting: the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, never before used for a fashion show, where Caravaggio and Leonardo stared down from the walls in silent judgment. If they could speak, one suspects they’d have begged Prada to keep Versace’s archives locked up until further notice.
In the end, Vitale’s Versace is “sexy undone”—a contradiction that delivered only the undone part. There were no silhouettes, no structure, no Versace. Just random prints, limp drapings, and the occasional black-and-white face print slapped on fabric. Sorry, but this wasn’t sex appeal, it was more like an early low-budget adult film production dressed up as fashion. A student exercise stretched across a runway, padded out with plenty of color to fit Milan’s seasonal trend board. Nothing more.
See All Looks Versace Spring Summer 2026
