The afterlife of a creative director is a sort of limbo: Some disappear to lick their wounds in tasteful obscurity. Others wait out the contractual non-compete equivalent of fashion house arrest, pacing the perimeter of their own relevance until the industry decides to call them back. A few re-emerge with the energy of someone who’s just discovered oxygen, reinvented and mildly amused by the whole spectacle.
This, in its own way, is the current chapter for Sabato De Sarno. After a brief and controversial 19-month tenure at Gucci, De Sarno has shifted his attention away from the runway’s glare and into the more forgiving, and arguably more interesting, worlds of art and design. This year’s Salone del Mobile sees him stepping back into the conversation with “Insieme” (“Together” in Italian), an ambitious project about the knowledge and beauty behind the handcrafted. Created in collaboration with the Italian edition of Vanity Fair, the exhibition is proof that in fashion, exits and comebacks are often just part of the choreography.
I sat down with De Sarno to talk about his life after Gucci, the social media backlash, his new projects, and why he thinks ready-to-wear isn’t exactly in great shape right now.
What comes after Gucci: liberation or emptiness? Did you feel more relief or more disorientation?
Sabato De Sarno: To be honest, after Gucci I never felt a sense of emptiness. For nearly 23 years, I had done nothing but work, so I actually rediscovered time. There was no void, as I immersed myself in a wide range of projects. Leaving such a large and demanding organization, my initial feeling was relief. If I had to name one emotion, it would be relief. I’m someone with many interests and passions, and those never disappeared. I’ve devoted myself to projects that were quite different from what I’ve done before, and I engaged more deeply with art and design. I traveled a lot, met many new people, and was able to go beyond a surface-level engagement with certain subjects. I finally had the time to study and to develop a deeper connection with the things that truly interest me. In that sense, my year away after Gucci became an opportunity to explore new paths and to dedicate more time to what I genuinely enjoy.
Could you talk about the projects you worked on during this year?
A few months after leaving Gucci, I collaborated with the association Orgoglio Porta Venezia (Pride Porta Venezia) during Pride Month, presenting the film Il Capitone by Neapolitan director Camilla Salvatore. What I value most about this phase is the idea of creating conversations: I’ve felt like a bridge between people. I’ve also drawn on the relationships and experience built over 22 years of work to give visibility to projects, individuals, and topics that matter to me.
Soon after, I began working on a project called Napoli Infinita. I was invited to create a book about my city, since I’m Neapolitan, and I brought together 35 artists from Naples. My aim was to create a polyphony of voices, a portrait of Naples that moves beyond the usual stereotypes. The city is often told through clichés, so I wanted to highlight a wide range of perspectives: photographers, filmmakers, musicians, poets. After that, I started working on the project “INSIEME” for the Salone del Mobile. It focuses on craftsmanship and making. It might seem far removed from what I’ve done before, but in reality, it’s very closely connected to my experience. And next June, a new exhibition will open at PAC in Milan, featuring photographer Ambrosia Fortuna, titled “We Were Night, Now We Are Day.” It’s a collectsion of photographs that explores the past and present lives of a community, tracing the different phases of their journeys through transition. My goal is to spark conversation, this time around identity. These are necessary and sensitive subjects that deserve attention, especially in a political climate where they are often pushed aside. I’m not sure whether I would define myself as a curator. But when I take on a project, I like to go all the way, to understand deeply, to go beyond the surface. If that can be described as curating, then yes, I am the curator of this exhibition.
The project “Insieme” focuses on craftsmanship and the time required to make things, in a moment of ever-faster fashion cycles. Is it an aesthetic choice, or a stance against how the industry is operating today?
What I’m doing for the Salone del Mobile isn’t so different from what I’ve always done in fashion. The work behind the final product, the refusal to stay on the surface, the importance of knowledge, and the collectsive effort of many people—these have always been central to my practice. So this isn’t a political stance; it’s simply the way I’ve always approached my work. We live in a time dominated by images and speed. We’re used to seeing the final result, and we rarely pause to consider what comes before it. This project wants to shift the focus back onto that process, the journey that leads to the finished piece. Behind every object, there are people, and I wanted to place them at the center.
“Insieme” is an exhibition involving 12 Italian artisanal companies, each presenting a single design object. With the artist JR, we photographed 79 artisans involved in the project, and their portraits will be displayed on the façade of the municipal Piscina Cozzi as a kind of manifesto. My own approach to design is artisanal: selecting fabrics, working with embroidery, shaping silhouettes, changing direction, and allowing for detours in order to arrive at a stronger creative result. This is a common ground I know well and feel connected to. So this project is not a reaction, nor a statement, nor a response to my past—in any case, this is only a temporary pause. I will return to fashion. I'm a fashion designer.
Leaving Gucci meant stepping out of a very visible identity. Did you ever feel defined more by that role than by yourself, and today, without it, do you feel freer or more exposed?
Work defines a part of who I am, but not entirely. Gucci was only one part of my story. I am 43 years old, and I spent 19 months there: it was a parenthesis in my life. My passions and my life are far more interesting than my job.
Criticism and attacks: how much do they get under your skin ? You’ve often faced harsh comments on social media, was there a moment when they became hard to ignore?
I have obviously read, seen, and experienced criticism. At first, I wasn’t used to it, and it did hurt me. Then, after a while, you stop paying attention. But of course, we still read comments, because even if you don’t, someone will tell you about them. So they’re impossible to ignore. Unfortunately, what we now see on social media is less criticism and more bullying. Anyone can comment, so there are constructive critiques, which can help you see things differently. But there are also people who use social media simply to spread hate, and you have to be strong enough to face it. Criticism can be useful, it helps you grow, but it depends on who it comes from. If it comes from someone you respect, it can be constructive. If it comes from an anonymous profile, or from someone you don’t value, it’s often just empty noise, and often driven by the need for visibility. Today, negative news travels faster than positive news, and criticism often fuels visibility more than praise does. It’s true that some criticism has hurt me, but if you open Instagram, there’s a good dose of harshness for everyone. This kind of brutal criticism has become almost a default reaction. I don’t like it, and I don’t think it’s right. I also believe it has contributed to people falling out of love with fashion, because it spreads the wrong messages.
Why do you think this takes away interest from fashion?
There’s a very easy, almost automatic way of criticizing fashion, and it often reduces the entire system to something superficial. When people outside the industry read these narratives on social media, they end up perceiving fashion in very simplistic terms: good or bad, right or wrong, rankings of the ‘best’ show, the most glamorous location, who got the most views, which celebrity was flown in. When success is described only through those lenses, it becomes very far removed from the actual work. I am a fashion designer, and for me the center of the conversation should always be the clothes, the work itself, the story a brand is trying to tell.
Creative turnover: is it renewal or chronic instability? Do you see the rotation of creative directors as a sign of vitality or rather of systemic confusion? In an interview you said that, in your view, ready-to-wear is dead.
It’s a somewhat contradictory feeling. On one hand, this turnover does suggest vitality. All these changes have created an expectation of transformation, but that transformation hasn’t really happened, the system continues to operate as before. I’ve seen interesting projects, but projects need time. I am not obsessed with hype—I am obsessed with building. To build something, you need study, depth, and continuity; it cannot be done in one or two seasons. You need to engage with people and with the market. What I said about the ‘death’ of ready-to-wear is a strong statement that needs context. I am a ready-to-wear designer, not a haute couture one. Ready-to-wear was originally created to dress people, to bring fashion and style to the everyday life of people. Today, a coat cannot cost €11,000; those are no longer ready-to-wear prices. From experience, I know it’s absolutely possible to produce excellent Made in Italy garments with beautiful fabrics and refined finishes, at a fair price. That doesn’t mean it has to be cheap, because craftsmanship has a cost, but in many cases prices have become excessive. And at those levels, ready-to-wear, in its original meaning, has been lost.
The system has a short memory. Values seem to come and go.
Values have become trends, and I don’t like that. A value cannot last for just one or two seasons. If you truly hold certain values, they must be part of who you are, meaning that if you associate them with yourself as a designer or with the brand you work for, they should remain consistent over time. I’m referring to things like body positivity or gender inclusion, values that in recent years have strongly shaped the narrative of fashion shows, only to suddenly disappear. Ethical values need to be genuine from the moment you choose them as part of your aesthetic narration. They cannot be dropped simply because they are no longer cool or because, deep down, they were never truly believed in. There are countless examples. There was a moment when transgender representation on the runway was very strong, a beautiful period that carried a powerful message about gender. And then it disappeared. The same happened with plus-size models.
How do you see your future? Building something of your own, or returning to a major fashion house, and what would need to change for you to go back?
I don’t know if I’m necessarily interested in going back to being a creative director in a major house. I’m more drawn to doing things I truly care about, whether they are big or small doesn’t matter. What matters is that I believe in them, and that I can meet people with whom I can share my way of thinking. I believe in teamwork, in artisans, pattern-makers, seamstresses, designers, but also in supportive company management. What I hope for in the future is to find people with whom I can share a vision, a strategy, and a journey, and to support each other in the decisions we make together. I don’t want to feel alone again. I want to feel accompanied and supported in my next chapter. This year has been a pause from fashion, but I’ve been very active and have worked on many different projects. I would like to find a place where I can continue doing what I’ve done this year. I’m not looking for something big or small, I’m looking for the right place for me. And the right place, for me, is defined by people. I just hope to meet the right ones.
