When we imagined our Spring/Summer collection, we didn’t start with a moodboard. We started with a memory.
Or rather, a feeling: that suspended, golden-hour sweetness of a colazione sull’erba — breakfast in the grass — somewhere between the countryside and the sea. And we brought that feeling to life at Pitti Immagine Uomo 108.
At a fair known for its spectacle, we chose a quieter route. Our stand whispered. Soft yellow walls. Knits arranged like a morning ritual. Clothes that didn’t shout for attention — they invited a closer look. Like dappled light through leaves.
The Collection: Knitwear Meant to Be Felt
This season, Privati Firenze offered more than a collection — it was a scene. Striped sweaters like beach parasols from the 1960s. Crochet-inspired open knits in chocolate and caramel, like espresso and biscotti. Lightweight pullovers in powdered pastels and sun-faded neutrals. All crafted in noble yarns, from soft cotton blends to airy crepes — ideal for slow mornings, long lunches, and last swims.
There is a certain poetry in knitwear. Its pace. Its structure. Its imperfections. And this collection was all about embracing that poetry — wrapping it around the modern man who values beauty, tactility, and meaning.
The Stand: An Italian Still Life
Privati’s booth became a kind of tableau vivant — a still life made of texture and tenderness. Buyers and guests moved slowly, touched the yarns, asked about the names of stitches. We spoke of heritage, of home, of how clothing can feel like a familiar voice calling you back.
The most rewarding moment? Watching a visitor smile quietly at a piece and say, “It reminds me of my grandfather.” That’s why we do what we do.
Privati Firenze: Italian Nostalgia, Reimagined
Our mission remains the same: to offer garments that feel personal. Rooted in Italian craftsmanship, yes — but also in emotion, ritual, and memory.
We’re not here to chase seasons. We’re here to build a world — one thread at a time.
And if you happened to wander into our corner at Pitti 108, you may have noticed it:
The clothes weren’t just hanging.
They were waiting for someone who would understand them.
