A folk soul and a rock voice for timeless women

The ottod'Ame Fall Winter 2018 is a white canvas, where every single brushstroke adds depth to the shades of the soul. Step by step, word by word, gaze by gaze: the story takes shape. No saints, princesses, frivolous lady companions: this collection is specially designed for the contemporary, ironic, curious woman who has no need to fill silence with useless words, but is looking for –and finds, whenever she wants- the way to take time out and seek, look, discover. The taste of the Italian courts borrows intense and thick lines in dark colors, between smooth velvet fabrics and heavy wool textiles with prints reminding of faraway lands, but of near Europe too. Straight geometric patterns alternate with colorful tigers and women floating: free, lightweight and ironic. The softest and coldest colors are inspired from promenades amid North America landscapes, like they were veiled by fog covering the grass in the morning. Flowers are bold, fluorescent on dark backgrounds: simply perfect for important evening events. Moreover, many little dinosaurs drawn in a child style will bring a smile and carefreeness. In both heart and soul, in perfect ottod’Ame style.
I tell stories to myself to kill time

In 8 octaves.

The transcendental intimate ballads of Charlotte

She answered the phone, by chance. She was so unenthusiastic from the first day she arrived here. She did it randomly, out of boredom. She loved to arrive home and lay immediately on the floor. The shoulders resting on the worn out and smooth wooden floor, where she could find a point of contact with the world. She rearranged her thoughts. She left her busy day out. Moreover, she breathed. It was not so simple to find a connection with the intimate self. However, Charlotte could find it this way. Laying on the floor, she could see the multifaceted face of her soul and suddenly her senses were at peace with the world. In a backlight condition, she shortened the distances with her suspensions of will. Eyes open, and then closed, again and again, at a quiet and sensual pace. Like suspended in the air she began twirling, slowly fading among things. She took the rhythm of her inner voice, a sound that used to accompany her all day long: offbeat, jazzy, rocking. Notes came out of her mind like a continuous flow of thoughts.


Where do dreams hide?

I don’t have to be, I am.