MILAN - I only vaguely remember the plot of the 1993 Krzysztof Kieslowski movie 'Blue,' part of his Three Colors trilogy, but the cinematographic mood it conjured, with a grieving heroine played by Juliette Binoche experiencing the world washed with that color at moments when she felt most disconnected and isolated, has not faded.
A different breed of auteur than Kieslowski, Giorgio Armani also chose blue to infuse the Emporio collection shown Thursday morning at his minimalist amphitheater on Via Bergognone. Though he cited the warm shade of cornflowers in particular ('There are no jewels more becoming to a lady,' declared the older Mr. Emerson in E.M. Forster's 'A Room with a View'), the space was bathed in industrial blue light that when supplemented by the glow of the large crowd's electronic devices - pecked at with increasing frenzy as the delay in start time stretched to 45 minutes - gave this spectator the uneasy, far-from-home sensation of having been plunked down somewhere on Planet X.
The 52 looks presented - one for each week of the year, as if Mr. Armani, having made clothes, cosmetics, furniture and restaurants, were now also seizing subliminal control of the iCalendar - were a skillful if somewhat automatic-feeling combination of cottony, relaxed fabrics with technological synthetics.
Some models came down the runway in twos and threes, like tennis partners or Austin Powers fembots. (How long can it be until someone installs a conveyor belt in place of a runway?) Cuffs on shorts and pants glittered, there were stripes of every stripe, and a hanging-chad cocktail dress seemed ideal for the 2016 national Democratic convention.
In a generation raised on the credo 'image is everything,' there is still a young customer who doesn't want to have to think too much about what she wears, and Mr. Armani and his creative teams do the work for her with time-tested, Sub-Zero efficiency.
By comparison, the designer Fausto Puglisi is an eager puppy, loping endearingly through his curtain call at the Palazzo Serbelloni on Wednesday evening with fervor in his eyes and evident fire in the belly.
Mentored by Dolce & Gabbana, he has been proposed often as an heir to Gianni Versace. And he also mentioned Courrèges as an influence in the typically florid Milanese program notes, which is a lot of baggage for one brand to bear.
Mr. Puglisi's gold jacket and miniskirt, also a little fembot, was one of the show's more coherent outfits, as was the orange bandeau with black-and-gold triangle skirt that immediately followed. Simple gowns with zippered pockets, worn with Roman sandals, also made sense, at least for those evening Venuses who need to carry loose change and a wadded-up Kleenex.
But the progression of low-slung jumpers layered over graphic patterns and large hole cut-outs was by the end more exhausting than exuberant, perhaps demonstrating the rather less commendable influence of fast fashion on Mr. Puglisi's still-developing aesthetic.
The fellows at Fay, Tommaso Aquilano and Roberto Rimondi, continue to be fascinated with the unlikely muse of Charles M. Schulz. His character Woodstock was emblazoned on their clothes for this fall; and for spring, there is Lucy Van Pelt, looming around the side of a sweatshirt and patterned over a jacket - adorably, for a 6-year-old.
Windbreakers and shorts declaring 'Fay Time' and pullovers with zippered packs appended at odd angles were some of the other outfits appearing incongruously under the grand chandeliers of La Società del Giardino on Wednesday afternoon, an infelicitous contrast of centuries-old grandeur and craftsmanship with immediate cheap fashion fixes.
'How I love the sound of clinking money!' Ms. Van Pelt sighed aptly in her psychiatric booth. 'That beautiful sound of cold, hard cash! Nickels, nickels, nickels.'
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