Francesco Risso, who has just departed Marni, is chatting to me from his car which was parked in some nondescript lot in Milan. Despite the major life change, he’s in very good spirits. The call location is typical Risso; as he has so richly and memorably demonstrated in his near-decade at the Italian label, he has always been taking us to places we least expected to go. That said, his very first ever collection for Marni, pre-fall 2017, arriving at the label after years of working for Miuccia Prada, was pretty much in the same realm as it was under the creative stewardship of its founder Consuelo Castiglioni; lots of ladylike florals, 1930s dresses, technicolor duffel coats, stripey tights and foulards, and a bit of geometric bijoux here and there. Risso and I chatted in late January 2017 in Paris where he was previewing that debut of his, and it was telling that one of his favorite things from Castiglioni-era Marni were the gargantuan furry gauntlets she did for fall 2009. He put them in his debut in a lurid Kermit green fur; perfect for some plushie cosplay.

Those gloves were quirky, humorous, witty, and leftfield—in essence, what would become the defining qualities of his Marni. ‘Oh, I can give you what you’re expecting, but let’s go on an adventure instead’ was his mantra—and then some. Over the course of his time at the label, Risso gave us: radically patchworked principessa cocktail dresses; mohair in stripes of every persuasion; clothing that looked like it had been dipped in plaster; cult-y, aciiiiiid, rave-in-a-field velvet jeans; paint sloshed tailoring; and, derelict chic ballgowns fit for a Mad Hatter’s tea party. It was artisanal fashion of the experimental and expressive variety, hardwired to the emotions of its mercurial creator.

The show backdrops could be just as unexpected. Risso presented his collections not only in Milan—most memorably spring 2022 in a barely-out-of-the-pandemic September 2021 when he outfitted the entire audience in the label and had his now good friend Dev Hynes on choral duties—but as a merry band traveling caravan which variously alighted in New York, Paris, and Tokyo; creative wanderlust turned actual wanderlust. That Risso could do all of this was because of the support of Renzo Rosso of OTB [Only The Brave], the parent group of Marni; as with the other designers who have been in Rosso’s stable—John Galliano at Maison Margiela, say, or Glenn Martens at Diesel—he was encouraged to be as daringly creative as possible.

It seems fitting that Risso and I are chatting about his decision to leave Marni, just as we did about his arrival; a full-circle moment, coming at a time when the industry is being upended every which way. He’d something to say on that. And he’d plenty more to say on how much he loved his role at the label, and why he’d been so passionate about finding new ways to work while he was there. Risso tended to reject the star system that placed the designer at the very pinnacle of a brand. Oftentimes, I thought, he was looking to decenter himself; push everything forward artistically, yes, but acknowledge everyone in his community who was working with him, too. It was never about just him. I told that to the Pratt graduating class last year when I had to go pick up an award from the school on his behalf; he’d been mentoring the students, and teaching, he said to me, is something he’d like to do more of going forward. But that’s for the future, or at least one of his futures. For now, Risso is content to reflect on all that’s happened since Marni came into his life. And the reaction to his departure, the outpouring of good wishes in its wake, has touched him enormously. “The flood of affection has left me, yes, me, momentarily stunned,” Risso says. “And I’m not easily stunned.”