Francesco Risso, who recently left Marni, is talking to me from his parked car in an unremarkable Milan parking lot. Despite this significant career shift, he’s in high spirits. The unusual call location is classic Risso – during his nearly ten years at the Italian label, he consistently took us to unexpected places.

That said, his first collection for Marni (pre-fall 2017), after years working under Miuccia Prada, stayed close to founder Consuelo Castiglioni’s vision: ladylike florals, 1930s dresses, vibrant duffel coats, striped tights, scarves, and geometric jewelry. When we spoke in Paris in January 2017 as he previewed that debut, he mentioned loving Castiglioni’s oversized furry gloves from fall 2009—which he reimagined in bright Kermit-green fur for his first show, perfect for plush-inspired fashion.

Those gloves—quirky, witty, and unconventional—captured what would define Risso’s Marni. His approach was: “I could give you what you expect, but let’s go on an adventure instead.” And what an adventure it was. During his tenure, he delivered radically patchworked cocktail dresses, mohair in every stripe imaginable, plaster-dipped fabrics, cult rave-worthy velvet jeans, paint-splashed tailoring, and tattered-chic ballgowns fit for the Mad Hatter. His work was experimental, artisanal, and deeply emotional.

His show locations were just as unpredictable. Beyond Milan (most memorably spring 2022, when he dressed the entire audience in Marni and had Dev Hynes lead a choir), he took his collections on the road—New York, Paris, Tokyo—turning creative wanderlust into literal travel. This freedom came thanks to OTB (Only The Brave) founder Renzo Rosso, who, as with designers like John Galliano at Margiela or Glenn Martens at Diesel, encouraged bold creativity.

Now, as we discuss his departure—just as we once did his arrival—it feels like coming full circle in an industry undergoing seismic shifts. Risso has thoughts on that, and much more to say about how much he loved his role and his relentless drive to innovate. He often rejected the star-designer model, preferring to push creativity forward while lifting up his entire team. “It was never just about me,” he emphasized.

When I accepted an award on his behalf at Pratt last year (where he mentored students), I told them this exact thing. Teaching, he says, is something he’d like to pursue more. But that’s for later. For now, he’s reflecting on his Marni journey—and the overwhelming response to his exit has moved him deeply.

“The flood of affection has left me—yes, me—momentarily stunned,” Risso admits. “And I’m not easily stunned.”

—Marni, fall 2024 ready-to-wear
Photographed by Acielle // @styledumonde

Francesco Risso: Mark, do you remember? You were the first to interview me. And you know, you made a beautiful comparison I’ve always been grateful for.
Mark Holgate: I did?! You said—I looked like someone straight out of a Pasolini film, and that interview became my golden ticket when I wanted to meet John Waters. He’s a huge idol of mine. The first time we spoke, he told me, “I was just reading your interview on my couch in Baltimore—right in front of my Pasolini painting!” He even mentioned how he and Divine used to sit in front of it. That quote of yours became a cherished memory that led to something incredible for me. John is amazing—one of my favorite directors, writers, and speakers. Listening to him is always a joy, though I’d say he’s surprisingly cynical about fashion. I never thought that was possible—honest, sure, but cynical?

Francesco, congratulations on your decade at Marni—what an exhilarating ride! How are you feeling now, reflecting on your time there?

First, I’m just so grateful. I was so young when I started; I grew up there. Gratitude feels like the most celebratory state of mind. Looking back has been emotional, but also necessary. The decision to leave came during this strange, confusing time we’re living in. I needed to reconnect with myself, stand on my own feet. After everything—especially the challenges since 2020—it felt like the right moment.

I wanted to shake things up, rethink how I work. It can’t just be business as usual. I need a new chapter, a fresh start, even though Marni was deeply fulfilling. Right now, with so much suffering in the world, fashion should feel less exclusive, more open—more empathetic. I’m ready for that challenge.

It does feel like we’re reinventing everything daily, doesn’t it?

Exactly. It’s not about disappointment—Marni was incredible. But at 40, I didn’t want to reach 50 without questioning the old ways. I still want to create spectacular shows, make beautiful things that bring joy. At Marni, we built this amazing system—the models, the music, this traveling caravan of creativity. But lately, happiness feels too fleeting. I want something lasting, something with legacy. I read an interview with Giancarlo Giammetti about how change doesn’t always mean legacy, and it really struck me.

Speaking of legacy, your collaborative spirit defined your time at Marni.

That’s always been me. I have two moons tattooed on my hands—the most painful thing I’ve ever done—to remind myself of symbiosis. Maybe it’s because I left my chaotic family young, but I’ve always craved unity, sharing experiences. I never wanted an ivory tower. I want to roll up my sleeves, work alongside people, get my hands dirty.People. I don’t believe a brand’s existence has to rely solely on having a celebrity designer at its helm. The product should speak for itself. Ideas should speak for themselves. So many things should come before personal fame.

Marni, fall 2017 ready-to-wear
Photo: Yannis Vlamos / Indigital.tv

Looking back at your time at Marni, who has been especially important to you?

FR: Renzo [Rosso, owner of Marni’s parent company OTB] was pivotal. He brought me here, believed in me endlessly—I have to mention him first because he gave me the freedom to create something special. He saw something in me, and I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned from him. Then there’s Eliana, my right hand. Lawrence [Steele, Risso’s former partner], who’s actually here with me now. And Paloma [Elsesser]—she once messaged me saying she’d love to walk in my show, and I said, Yes, please come, run here! The lessons she’s taught me, as a person—we need more people like her in fashion. And Dev [Hynes]—some moments with him will stay with me forever. He composed music from my words, giving Marni a sound language full of emotion. He’s like a brother to me now.

You’ve also been very supportive of young designers—like collaborating with Collina Strada’s Hillary Taymour and befriending Charles Jeffrey. Many established designers say they admire up-and-coming talent…

…But they won’t actually meet them! [Laughs] Seriously, I have relationships with so many designers—we’re all fans of each other. I’m a bit older than Hillary and Charles, but we’ve all shaped our identities while working our way up. There’s something similar in how we approach things. And if I can help, why wouldn’t I? What’s the issue? I just saw Charles’s show in London—it was so much fun, exactly the kind of creative freedom I needed at that moment.

Think about music—how musicians support each other. Fashion took a long time to become more collaborative. Sometimes it clings to mystery, but that can just come off as… [laughs] mean-girl energy!

Vivienne Westwood comes to mind. She seemed mysterious, even intimidating, but she’d actually help you—she was kind. We have to learn to be different. People my age, even successful ones, don’t buy into the old systems anymore. Take me and Charles—we might just paint jackets for fun, for friends. Why not? It nurtures creativity. That takes time. We need to relearn skills—making things is beautiful, more so than counting stitches for an Instagram gimmick. That’s why I’ve gone back to education—there’s still so much groundwork to do.

What advice would you give students now? You mentored at Pratt and met with students at Antwerp’s Royal Academy…

I loved Antwerp. The school’s focus on craft impressed me, especially how first-year students dive deep into one idea and explore it fully [laughs]. My advice? The world is full of incredible places. It’s a tough time—business often overshadows the actual making, and these big machines need feeding. You have to work hard, really hard, because…There are so many students, so many brands, and so much out there—we need things that truly stand out. Education fascinates me. One of my dreams for the future is to build academies—it’s part of my mission. I’ll be completely honest with students, just as my teachers were with me. High quality is essential—for thinking, for creating. There’s too much wasted energy in the world.

On Marni’s traveling shows:
We started in Milan, as expected, then took the show on the road—New York and Tokyo were unforgettable. I have to thank Renzo Rosso again because he made it possible, even though Milan missed me. From the beginning, I told my team—Dev, Rachel, Carlos—that taking Marni across the world was about connecting with people.

What I love most is learning. It’s easy to stay in a bubble, but that’s not for me. I wanted people to understand Marni, to believe in what we believe in. It was like singing the same song your whole life in the UK, then suddenly performing it in America. We did it our way: our clients were our models, the audience was local—students, store staff. New York was a whirlwind of celebrities (which I’m grateful for), but the real purpose was casting people from the streets who truly embodied the brand. Those moments still feel like a dream, but the goal was always to open up the world, not close it off.

On the Spring 2022 show:
I wasn’t there, but colleagues like Virginia Smith and Nicole Phelps loved it—not just for the clothes but for the experience. The audience wore Marni, styled by me, and Dev Hynes led a choir, creating this emotional sense of togetherness.

Dev and I laughed about it yesterday—that was our first collaboration. I envisioned an arena with musicians, the audience in Marni, blurring the line between what they wore and what was on the runway. The idea came during the pandemic. Back in the office, I said, Let’s cover everything in canvas and paint—I need to get physical again. We painted for 10 days, but nothing clicked—though the paintings were incredible!

Then I thought about our iconic stripes (like the mohair knits) and decided to paint stripes on everything—the collection, the audience’s clothes. Picture this: 11 changing rooms, seamstresses working, a cello quartet playing while we prepped. I ran around, greeting people, helping with fittings. That was the show for me—making clothes, but also making people feel joy. Only afterward did I realize how emotional it was.Here’s a more natural and fluent version of your text while keeping the original meaning intact:

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It was all so emotional—people were crying and hugging each other. After the pandemic, we all needed some charm. To me, fashion truly comes alive when it carries a strong sense of humanity. I love that clothes are objects born from memory, history, and emotions.

Marni, spring 2021 ready-to-wear
Photo: Courtesy of Marni

Francesco, I know this might be difficult, but which three of your Marni collections stand out the most for you?

FR: First, the tropical collection—I wish I could remember the season, let me check Vogue Runway! Spring 2019. It was entirely in cotton. That collection was very special to me because I wanted to paint on it from start to finish, and it gave me so much energy. Back then, I didn’t always enjoy shows—I had to learn how to. I love the creative process, but not necessarily everything surrounding it. That’s why I tend to hide! For this show, we flew people in from Mexico and cast models from there—it was incredible.

Second, there was Marnifesto (spring 2021). I cried the whole time—maybe because of the pandemic and being apart from everyone. It was about loving freedom, how Marni had made me feel so free and happy. That collection sparked a whole new way of thinking for me.

And third, I’ll always remember Tokyo (fall 2023). In a way, it marked the start of another chapter. It was one of the first times I actually enjoyed one of my own shows. We were in this amazing stadium, and at one point, I went up to the top row just to watch. I felt so calm, almost unemotional—I had to process that reaction. That moment was a turning point for me. I had taught Marni new techniques, like tailoring. Sometimes we’d laugh because we’d remake a jacket 18 times—I became obsessed with it. Before I arrived, Marni’s style was very soft, rounded, with no structure.

And what about the future, Francesco? What can you tell me?

I decided long ago that I wouldn’t work under my own name. If you hear my name in the future, it’ll be linked to someone else. But you know what? I really want to work again, and I’m going to fight for my own studio—a real community, not just the kind fashion brands claim to have. From my time at Marni, I know community takes nurturing. We did an amazing job, but it’s hard to sustain. I want to leave a legacy through community, working with geniuses from all over the world, from unexpected places, letting them do whatever they want—as long as they’re passionate about making. I’m also open to teaching, learning—any kind of university setting.

But I’m not in a rush. Honestly, how many people can you talk to about change in one season? It’s overwhelming!

What do you think about all these industry changes? How does it make you feel about fashion?

It feels very unstable right now—not inspiring, to be honest. Of course, people will seize their opportunities; they’re incredible designers doing great work. But all this shaking, changing… is it really a reset? Just swapping people doesn’t necessarily mean progress. Fashion doesn’t make me think, Oh, I want to dress up, how fun! Instead, I just want to wear a uniform, be unrecognizable, wear the same thing every day. How sad is that? Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think I’m alone—I want to feel that desire again. Right now, I don’t feel the urge to discover something new because there’s nothing truly new. You can find anything, anywhere on Earth.

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This version keeps the essence of the original while making it more conversational and natural. Let me know if you’d like any further refinements!Marni, Spring 2022 Ready-to-Wear
Photo: Courtesy of Marni

Marni, Spring 2022 Ready-to-Wear
Photo: Courtesy of Marni

Marni, Spring 2022 Ready-to-Wear

I heard from my colleague Laird Borrelli-Persson that you recently sold your fashion archive. It must have been a cathartic experience…

I started building my clothing archive when I was 12, collecting everything from nautical wear to Americana, cowboy outfits, and 1920s pieces. I bought early collections from Martin Margiela and Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garçons, just because I loved looking at them.

But over time, it became a heavy burden. Eventually, I thought, Enough—let’s sell it all. The archive was stored in a warehouse, and I’d often go there, open the door, glance inside, then close it again. After doing this so many times, I asked myself, What was the point of holding onto all these passions?

With the help of friends, we moved everything to La Pelota in Milan, a stunning 1930s venue. Seeing it all laid out—organized by era, from early Nicolas Ghesquière’s Balenciaga pieces to other fragments of my life—was overwhelming. People traveled from Brazil and beyond to see it, and we raised a lot of money (100,000 euros) for the Super Cedar Sale supporting Lebanon.

That made me happy, but what truly delighted me was downsizing to a wardrobe as compact as a boat’s closet—only holding what truly matters. I’m proud of that. More than anything, though, it felt like shaking off the dust from my shoulders.

I don’t need possessions to be the best designer in the world—though of course, that’s the dream. What matters is creating pieces that resonate, that carry emotion, and that last for years.

Marni, Fall 2023 Ready-to-Wear
Photo: Courtesy of Marni

Marni, Fall 2023 Ready-to-Wear
Photo: Courtesy of Marni