The Fall Winter 23/24 collection dedicated and inspired by Grazia Deledda

“We are Spaniards, Africans, Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabs, Pisans, Byzantines, Piedmonts. yellow broom flowers that shower down on rocky paths like large lit lamps. We are the wild solitude, the immense and deep silence, the splendour of the sky, the white flower of the cistus. We are the uninterrupted kingdom of the mastic tree, of waves trickling over ancient granites, by the wild rose, by the wind, by the immensity of the sea. We are an ancient land of long silences, of broad and pure horizons, of gloomy plants, of mountains burned by the sun and by vengeance. We are Sardinians."

Dedicated to Grazia Deledda

I was waiting for this day for months. It would finally happen, I would finally meet you, I would finally be able to look into your eyes, I could have smiled at you and maybe even spoken to you, obviously only if you had spoken to me first. Mabye you could have touched my hand but we definitely never would have stopped staring at each other. They would have noticed us, yes. They would have spotted us among all the hundred of guests at first glance. But what does it matter! We have written to each other so many times and for so long that you and I have known each other since forever. Who knows if I’ll live up to your expectations.. I’ve always written to you sincerely… “I’m a Sardinian young lady, but I don’t look like my fellow countrymen. I am pale, dark, a little bit Spanish, a little Arab, a little Latina. I am small with big intense eyes which are always veiled with a slight tint of natural sadness and with long black eyelashes, full red lips and long dark thick and frizzy hair. I am not beautiful, of Grace I just have my name, but I am brave and determined. “ I love literature, I adore listening to the story of the greats, I love writing and I love fashion. I love to follow fashion but to then dress as I please. In my own way, because you know, as I always say and repeat, style is something innate, something personal. It is the ability to dare, naturally and freely, I think, am I exaggerating?
I can’t wait, tomorrow I’ll wear that suit made especially for you. I will make a fashion show of all the oufits throughout the whole day, changing and changing again in such way that not even Eleonora Duse or the Marquise Casati would have dared. I wonder the envy of mistress Juannica and of her daughters Nannedda and Agostina, always criticising, gossiping, checking, and talking badly about me. I always had to fight with the seamstress, Mistress Annesa. Ugh, that seamstress has hands of gold but a brain as tight as a beguine. Is it possible that everything has to be as she says “according to tradition”? Is it possible that one cannot think of something different, new? Personal?... indeed even something improvised depending on the mood. Or better on love… in this case. Yes, for my love I want to wear something that says: Here I am! This is for you. Is it clear that I love you? There’s no need for words, explanations aren’t necessary, I am here in front of you dressed the way you like, but only in appearance, in reality I am naked, I have no protection, my dress speaks of me, it reveals who I am, what I think and desire and… I want you. Everyone will come to know, but it doesn’t matter. I have decided I don’t want to lie anymore and the fateful day has finally arrived. I had this outfit made while I was riding. I want the skirt to hang beautifully, I want the drape to be perfect and impeccable. I must be dazzling. I want to be dressed in silk and ecru florals, of leaves blackened by ash, I want to be caressed by dèvorè velvet like a diva, I want to wear brocades like a queen, I want to feel beautiful for once, I want everyone to admire me and say… “ Is it her? Is it Graziedda? I have never seen her like this. What happened? She bloomed?” And instead I'm just in love. From now on everything will be different, you will be there and everything will change. Already from tonight most of the guests will arrive from all over Europe. As of tonight our beautiful mansion in Badde Salighes will have nothing to envy to Balmoral Castle in Scotland, Unterswittelbach Castle in Bavaria or Hof Castle in Austria. Everyone will find refreshments and tomorrow from dawn, there will be grand preparations and we then we leave for the "hunt for wild boar". Even though I hate hunting, I find it to be the only way we can finally meet. This is why I convinced my father Don Antonicco Desviraggias to organize it. Although humble, our manor is located in the forest of Burgos, the most beautiful place in the world. An enchanted place. Among secular trees and slopes and streams and rocks and clearings and mosses and precipices. One must be careful though, it's easy to get lost. But there will be auctioneers who know the way well. If we are lucky we could see the little Sardinian donkeys with the big dark cross stripe on the back, which bring good luck, did you know that? They run like the wind, they are impetuous and docile, nevrile and meek. I love to ride, my favourite is Gray and he’s so fiery he’s called "Filuferru". You come across deer and wild boars, the recipients of an unequal hunt, poor things. And red foxes, rabbits and hares, weasels, martens and dormice and the beloved porcupines. If you raise your eyes you can see the majestic golden eagle fly or the peregrine falcon, so dear to our Eleonora d'Arborea. I have already organised everything.

You don't understand how many times they teased me claiming you was a part of my imagination. Too good to be true, they argue. They are jokers and sometimes mean and envious but they love me too much. They gave me gold-woven fabrics and floral velvets and woven mats and jewels. We will reach the Castle of Burgos, in the majestic and very high granite cliff, very difficult to reach. For years it was the prison of Adelasia di Torres walled up alive by her handsome young husband, Enzo di Hohenstaufen, son of Emperor Frederick II and King of Sardinia. It seems that Adelasia's ghost still haunts that place. Even if that were the case, she’s a friend. I often go there and what I find is peace, silence, and complete happiness. I know that Adelasia's spirit loves me and fights with me, so that I can succeed in changing my destiny, so that I can find the strength to disobey my Father and avoid marrying that old and miserable Don Zame and marry you instead, my beloved. Tomorrow everyone will understand that it is impossible to separate us, that we are one person, that even if you come from Scotland we share a love for letters, for wild nature, for dogs, for precious and ancient fabrics, which have a soul. If it weren't for that obnoxious Juannicca I'd be the happiest in the world. Do you know she came early in the morning raving about a bad omen. She gave me such anxiety! She says that a monster that is half wolf roams the forest (as if there is a wolf in Sardinia) and half wild boar and that the shepherds know this monster well and call it Babbaiottu and are terrified by it. Them and their sheep. He says that Babbaiottu doesn't want people wandering in "his" forest especially if they are "continental". Indeed, it seems that the continentals really don't want them, he says that he howls and grunts uttering words at the same time repeating in his strange language “..Personas estraneas in domo no che ndhe cherzo” “I don’t want foreigners”  eand curses “Tota custa zente es bennida dai fora”. The worst is that if you challenge him, he makes you lose your mind, the way it happened to Ananias who had organized a hunting trip for important Piedmont people and as I wrote to you that day, he is out of his mind. Same thing for Ziu Pauliccu who had brought Spanish people and has never recovered, he is now holed up inside his sheepfold and never comes out. No one knows what happened. You don’t understand the bad mood it put me in. Juannicca says that the only antidote is to wear a Sardinian button tied to a red thread…meh! Is it possible? Should I believe her? Or is hers all envy? I tie a red thread around my wrist and never take it off. But could also be that Jannicca has an agreement with my Father and wants to prevent me from meeting you? Anyway, I don’t understand what is going on… why I am closed in this room, they have taken everything away from me apart from the pen, why hasn’t Annesa  arrived yet with all the clothes, why hasn’t Anneredda come to do my hair, why don’t I hear the horses of the guests arriving and why do I hear so many voices in my head all different from one another that scream, whisper, call me ... but what do they want from me? Why are they torturing me? What did I do wrong? I didn't ask anyone for anything. I live with the wind, with the forest, with the mountains and the clouds and I just want to go where my heart takes me…