Wandering backstage at JW Anderson's latest show Crazy outfits, Rembrandt paintings and smoking

Jonathan Anderson is an imposing man, I think he is close to six feet, yet he moved between backstage and the catwalk of his fashion show with levity, handing out smiles and directions in a gentle, firm voice to the staffers around him. Some of them were in charge of PR and were reviewing the chairs that ran along the serpentine catwalk, verifying the accuracy of the placement of the place cards. Others were incessantly going back and forth, communicating in with sheets and slips of paper in their hands: lists of looks, of names, of samples. It makes some impression to think how much importance fly sheets still retain in many backstage runway shows, where memory and organization of looks all rely on reams of printed paper and lists of names. The first thing you notice about a backstage show are the mundane details: rubber bands, hairpins, water bottles, magazine wires, hair dryers. A series of mundane objects that seem entirely opposed to the spectacle of fashion and luxury - but instead form its essential building blocks. The location of the fashion show is a dilapidated-looking former factory, which emptied of its machinery and dominated by the brisk silence of technicians, workers, design teams and so on, looks almost like a church. It is not a mass, however, that is being celebrated here - just one of the most anticipated events of Milan Fashion Week.

Given my love of privileged and somewhat hidden vantage points, I ask Pascal Moscheni to watch the show from the top of his console. In front of us is a wall of photographers, and the models parading through the show seem almost small and distant. The rest of the staff in the console was fanning themselves from the heat until all the models come out together and Jonathan gives his brief salute. After that all the guests leave, lingering to chat in small groups while the press runs to the backstage entrance to collect Jonathan's statements, which, as chance would have it, I arrive too late to hear. Backstage Jebi Labemika, wearing fabulous sunglasses and a pair of cowboy boots, takes photos of the evidently amused backstage. Just outside backstage, Jonathan takes photos with Emily Ratajkowski and Anna dello Russo, who then walk away from the small crowd of photographers to talk to each other. Outside, an expanse of influencers, editors and models continues to circulate-slowly overflowing onto the street, where black cars drive by to pick them up to take them to the next show. The most repeated phrase of the evening remains, in a dozen different languages: «I'll see you tonight at the party?» The answer is unfailing: «Of course, if I survive dinner».