Margherita Maccapani Missoni Meeting Ms Daisy

In an industry that often romanticises reinvention through excess, Margherita’s label is rooted in realism. She has the rare ability to stop, to strip things back to their essence and trust they are enough. Take The Hood: not a vest, not a shawl, not a top, just a single, sculptural gesture – refined, cool and beautifully made. This instinct – to make pleasure tactile, not theoretical – runs through her life. She talks about a second-hand treasure with the same reverence as a well-cut pair of trousers. Her wardrobe, like her work, is an ecosystem: lived-in, curated, quietly intentional. Even her most recognisable emblem, the wilted daisy, resists easy prettiness. “When your name is Margherita, you’re given daisies your whole life”, she says, smiling. “At a certain point, I couldn’t look at them anymore”. But she came back to them, reconsidering their simplicity: yellow and white, a polka-dot centre, universally understood as the “happy flower”. Which is precisely why she wanted to bend it a little. “We’re always expected to be happy – especially as women. For me, the wilted daisy became a way to say, ‘You can embrace the moments when you’re not.’” It was a sharp reminder: what does it mean to let go of performative happiness? Especially as a woman, where safety so often lies in being palatable – agreeable, soft-edged, easy to read. From girlhood, we learn likability is earned through self-erasure: the polite laugh, the apologetic nod, the smile that reassures the world you’re fine. Frowning isn’t part of our choreography. It’s a quiet rebellion sewn into cotton. And perhaps that’s why it resonates – a symbolic permission slip for women to feel everything, to reject the impossible demand of constant lightness. “You can’t reflower without a winter”, she says. The thought lands gently but with weight. Her Substack carries the same weight as her garments – each post an act of stitching. It reads like an ode to grief, to love lost and life found again. Writing has always been her instinct – notebooks, diaries, the catharsis of language unconstrained by fashion. On the page, she allows herself a freedom that fashion rarely permits – to unravel, to confess, to articulate without polish or sample testing. In a recent post, The Art of Letting Go, she distilled the lesson with a clarity only lived experience can teach: “As soon as I started letting go of these things that didn’t belong to me anymore, life began to give”. And oh, how it gave.

Maccapani dress & trousers, Giaborghini shoes, Charlotte Chesnais earrings & ring

Maccapani top, skirt & gloves, Giaborghini shoes, Charlotte Chesnais earrings & bracelet

Maccapani top, skirt & gloves, Giaborghini shoes, Charlotte Chesnais ring & bracelet

Maccapani jacket & trousers, Giaborghini shoes

Maccapani dress & cardigan, Charlotte Chesnais bracelets

Maccapani dress, Charlotte Chesnais earrings & bracelets

Maccapani jacket & trousers, Giaborghini shoes

The same balance runs through her work. Looking back at Missoni, she points out that while the zigzags became the brand’s calling card, “at its glorious time, the most interesting part of the brand” was how it made knitwear “effortlessly chic in a true way”. Before Missoni, knitwear was confined to the home; they made it something you could “wear to La Scala” or even to “a black tie”. With Maccapani, she continues that conversation – creating clothes that live as beautifully as they look, embedded in the everyday rather than preserved for special occasions. Her body language noticeably shifts as we discuss her personal philosophy on the act of dressing. An intimate act that we reflect on with joy; For Margherita, the most interesting work happens “where aesthetics and beauty merge with life and practicality”. She describes herself as “a kind of person who only travels with hand luggage”, someone who loves playing with her look but “never lets it take over my life”. Maccapani isn’t a manifesto but it is a refusal. A refusal of fashion as empty performance. A refusal of discomfort disguised as glamour. A refusal to mistake noise for relevance. In its place, Margherita offers something quieter and more enduring: garments that move with you, symbols that allow you to feel wholeheartedly and a rhythm of design that respects the pace of a real life. She admits her wardrobe isn’t perfectly edited – maybe that will come. For now, she enjoys the contradictions: tailored trousers beside a riotous print, an unworn dress kept simply for the joy of looking at it. In her clothes as in her life, pleasure is not about more. It’s about finding the pieces – and the moments – you want to keep close and letting the rest go. She hints at an e-commerce drop: each Maccapani piece arriving with a vintage find – binding past and present, memory and material. A tangible sentiment. It feels like the natural extension of her philosophy: clothes as living things, shaped as much by history as by the body that wears them. Nothing is ever static in her world – garments shift, daisies wilt and reflower, wardrobes evolve. What remains is the continuity, a commitment to fashion as a way of holding on, letting go and of finding pleasure in what stays.