What Francesco Risso’s Marni Taught Us About Fashion and Sincerity
Francesco Risso’s tenure shaped what is arguably the most culturally vital era in Marni’s history. If anything, he is proof that sometimes you need to bet on unknown creatives to bring something new to the table. Francesco Risso, like Alessandro Michele, emerged from fashion’s shadows. Before Marni, his name was virtually unknown, proving that some of the most visionary creatives often work behind the scenes—until they’re given a stage. He introduced Marni to a universe that was not only intelligent but also went against all stereotypes. Most of all, he had time to prove his vision at times when fashion was still blooming—something that doesn’t necessarily happen these days with newly appointed creative directors. What’s more interesting about his tenure in Marni was that at the beginning, his first collections were met with early skepticism, but his success proves that he managed to draw attention to himself and the brand somehow until everyone agreed that his aesthetic had indeed a cultural significance and value.
Risso’s Marni will be remembered as a pack of bright colors, quirky, unexpected details, and bold stripes. He was successful because he found his niche inside a whimsical crowd. The type of artist who saw fashion with childlike wonder, an instinctual joy often misunderstood as naïveté in an industry obsessed with academic references. He showed that fashion can be seen from a light of unreferential perspective—after all, it’s always fun to get dressed, and it’s fun to create new things and just follow human instinct. He cannot be labeled as just a fashion designer because his work got permanently connected to the art world, and as a consequence, Marni IS INDEED very much connected to art.
For his Fall 2018 he made guests sit atop piles of discarded fabric and showcased coats made from recycled carpet. He always liked to question and make his audience conscious of what innovation could look like without the interference of technology or industrialization, resulting in overproduction. He also had his Fall 2022 show inside a black box to display his kind of anarchic and dystopian view he had on fashion shows. As a result, his collections never looked exactly the same, although there were patterns such as his love for stripes, polka dots, and daisies that signified “new beginnings” for him, but he mostly made show-stopping, vibrant, kaleidoscopic looks designed to turn heads and radiate confidence.
He also understood collaboration as a two-way process of world-building—each runway show, campaign, and capsule collection felt like a generous exchange between Marni and other creative forces, rather than a transactional marketing move. His partnerships with artists like Flaminia Veronesi or performance groups like Sun Ra Arkestra were never treated as gimmicks, but as portals into new expressions of identity and emotion. And when Marni went global—from Tokyo to New York for its touring shows—it wasn’t just a luxury brand trying to sell clothes overseas. It was a traveling community, led by Risso’s optimistic, sometimes chaotic, sometimes poetic vision of what a fashion house can be like in the 21st century.
Even when the collections didn’t quite resonate or leaned too heavily into costume, Risso maintained something rare in this industry: a sense of sincerity and authenticity. There was no cynicism behind his gestures, and no thirst for internet virality. If Marni looked like a children’s drawing, or an experimental art project, or a musical—it was because Risso believed those were valid lenses through which to view beauty. He built a dream-like brand universe without ever fully abandoning wearability, although he challenged it constantly.
Marni’s accessories business flourished under Risso—especially the redesigned Trunk bag and the signature Fussbett sandals, both of which became cult staples among younger luxury shoppers.
What will Marni become without him? That question is both exciting and terrifying. Risso’s departure marks the end of an era in which fashion dared to be kind of weird again. We’re living in a moment where many creative directors are expected to deliver immediate commercial results as fashion is struggling financially, and his legacy feels like a gentle protest: a reminder that originality and consistency need time. That sometimes, a fashion house is better served by a slow-burning artistic identity than a viral rebrand.
More than just a visual overhaul, Risso gave Marni a soul. His clothes made people feel things—joy, confusion, delight, nostalgia—and that’s what fashion should strive to do. Whoever comes next will inherit a brand that has become a living, breathing organism built on emotion, community, and creative fearlessness.
And that’s a tough act to follow.