Ah, Max Mara. The fashion house for those who stopped buying labels long ago—because they already own them all. Resort 2026? Naturally, set in Italy. Naturally, in a palace. And no, this wasn’t another Instagram daydream of Tuscany with rustic prosecco and linen fantasies—it was a true feast for those who live la dolce vita without ever having to announce it.
Caserta’s Royal Palace, once reserved for Bourbon royalty, now served as the perfectly decadent backdrop for creative director Ian Griffiths’ latest chapter. An Englishman paying homage to Italianness—sounds like a contradiction? And yet, Griffiths managed to breathe that elusive italianità into his silhouettes without slipping into cliché or kitsch. No pasta prints, no Vespas. Just coats so exquisitely cut, one imagines a 1950s Sophia Loren nodding in approval—from behind her oversized sunglasses, naturally.
On the front row? Sharon Stone and Gwyneth Paltrow. The former looked like she could kill with a glance and a stiletto. The latter radiated the smug serenity of someone who drank six green juices before sunrise and arranged her healing crystals into the Max Mara logo. Translation: the stars were aligned, the cameras ready, and fashion was having its moment.
As for the collection—thank God it wasn’t trying to be revolutionary. Max Mara was never for the rebels. It’s a wardrobe for women who already run the show and are simply deciding between the helicopter or the Maserati. Griffiths honored them with quiet confidence: a masterclass in texture, volume, and tailoring so precise it could slice through ennui. No trends here—only archetypes. No noise—just the whisper of double-brushed cashmere.
The silhouettes floated down the runway with the kind of effortless sophistication that works as well on cobbled Capri streets as in the corridors of a private art foundation. Midi lengths? Of course. Capes? Yes—but only for those who can descend marble staircases without stumbling. The palette was restrained, never dull: dusty Neapolitan blue evoking fine porcelain, and gelato-toned caramels you’d sooner eat than wear. Evening looks were rare, but when they appeared, they came with the kind of insouciance that would make even Demna-era Balenciaga whisper, “eleganza, espléndida.”
Was it all a little pretentious? Naturally. But isn’t that the point? Max Mara Resort 2026 is a celebration of Italian heritage seen through the eyes of a British aesthete who knows when to edit and when to indulge. These aren’t Italy’s tourist fantasies—these are Italy’s best-kept secrets, worn by women who don’t need directions.
One question, though, remains unanswered: what did Sharon and Gwyneth eat backstage? Because if it was pizza—it was topped with truffles.
Photos courtesy of Max Mara Resort 2026
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