Setting Sail—and Seeing the Future—With Loro Piana
Something is not right in Capri. “Welcome,” I hear time and again. “It’s never like this.”
“This” is a cold, constant rain that arrived before I did and didn’t abate until I was back on the mainland in Naples, watching the sun break beautifully over the island where I’d spent the last few damp days. The locals, while I’m situated on the wildly popular southern Italian tourist destination, are thoroughly apologetic, as if they could actually do something about the unprecedented weather. The apologies aren’t necessary. Actually, I’m enjoying it. It takes me approximately fifteen minutes to get a sunburn, I am very accomplished when it comes to sweating my face off, and I’ve always preferred a light jacket day to a beach day. Sure, it’s a bit soggy, but it’s also kind of great.
Besides, I’m here under very fortuitous circumstances, tagging along with Loro Piana to watch the happenings at Tre Golfi Sailing Week, where the brand is a sponsor. That makes perfect sense for a few reasons. First, Loro Piana crafts the kind of clothing, footwear, and accessories that appeal to people who take sailing seriously. According to lore, the brand’s white-soled shoes—you know, the ones that started out as an insider status symbol and recently exploded in popularity—and reversible Windmate Bomber jacket were both tested at regattas. Second, there’s the serendipitous alignment of timing with the release of the Loro Piana resort collection for 2023, replete with the sorts of linen pullovers, striped bermuda shorts, and, yes, white-soled shoes tailor-made for boating from Capri to Sorrento to Naples (albeit in somewhat warmer climes). And finally, Pier Luigi Loro Piana himself, who serves as deputy chairman of the brand since its acquisition by luxury conglomerate LVMH in 2013, is competing with his superyacht My Song 5.
Aside from the sailing competition, though, this feels like the perfect time to be embedded both with the people and the culture of Loro Piana. The quiet luxury/stealth wealth thing is still going strong, thanks in no small part to shows like Succession, in which Loro Piana’s clothing should probably have received an on-screen credit. And even beyond the ultra-luxe segment of the market, the idea that fashion is moving towards something more understated, more considered, and less logo-driven is inescapable. Loro Piana is a standard-bearer for this movement—a super-visible, highly aspirational version of the way we all seem to want to dress these days.
“It means, perhaps something a bit more modern, more stylish,” CEO Damien Bertrand, who joined the company in November of 2021, told WWD earlier this year, referring to what he calls “the new silhouette” of Loro Piana. “It is defined by a style that is modern, contemporary, with a lot of texture and layers, a lot of touch and innovation, and that constitutes what I call the silhouette.”
Seeing people ensconced in linen and cashmere, padding around on soft suede loafers with white soles and nary a brash logo to be found, you can understand the appeal. And existing within that, even for a while, it’s not hard to imagine a world where everyone dresses like this, in one way or another. Not necessarily expensively, but with the intention of letting fabric and texture and silhouette tell the story instead of relying on more blatant signifiers. Is this how the next few years are going to look? It’s hard to say for sure, but what better way to wrap your head around some of these impulses than to view them through the lens of a brand that makes sweaters that reveal themselves as something exceptional only to the trained eye? And what better way to put one of the brand’s weather-beating Storm System jackets or caps to the test than in the driving rain, on a partially covered motorboat, in the choppy waters of the Gulf of Naples?
That’s where I find myself on the penultimate day of the excursion, watching My Song 5 zig-zag its way towards a buoy, round it, and unfurl its spinnaker in dramatic fashion before the wind stops cooperating and the entire field of competitors comes to a halt. These things happen. That’s nature—and the nature of this particular beast. But no matter. By the time the festivities are over, My Song 5 will have secured the top spot in the Overall Real Time category, as well as the seventh in the Loro Piana Challenge Trophy.
With the sailing at a standstill, the group—swaddled in reversible bombers, some with waterproof Loro Piana caps perched on their heads and plush Loro Piana beach towels thrown over their laps as de facto blankets—makes its way back towards Capri. If the sun were shining, we’d be beelining for the beach. Instead, we head for the Faraglioni, a trio of rock formations just off the southern coast of the island. An archway has formed in one, just large enough to pass through. I’ve been thinking how great it’d be to do just that since I saw it days ago from the window of a monastery. There’s talk of giving it a shot, which seems to go nowhere. And then, without warning—at least in English—we’re going for it.
As the boat moves slowly through the ancient rock, emerging on the other side near the coastal restaurant where we’ll have lunch, I think of all those early apologies about the weather. “It’s never like this.” Well, maybe not. But time around, I’m glad it was.
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