Blumarine is plural. Blumarine are.
Blumarine are Wild.
Blumarine are a Rose.
Blumarine are a Wild Rose.
By being dual, Blumarine speaks a language that is plural, thus inclusive and attractive for every woman.
Femininity is not a formula. It is an ever-evolving harmony of contrast, a tale of reconciled opposites.
Like a rose growing in the wild, Blumarine blooms from this assumption.
Initially, the seeds were planted by a mother and a daughter, and nurtured by their constant dialogue.
That complementarity and contrast of opposite personalities stays: the present updates tradition, but the roots are there.
Blumarine is not static: femininity never is.
Blumarine has as many facets as the petals, and thorns, of a rose.
Blumarine speaks to the romantic and the soignè, to the sensual and the angel, to the femme fatale and the seductress. They are in every woman, at once.
Dresses are the words women use to express and interpret their many selves. Blumarine offers women a vocabulary that is unique, and dual.
Romantic sexyness is the byword. Or is it sexy romanticism?
It makes no difference: one complements the other. One offsets the other. A rose, after all, has its thorns. It smells of heaven but is spiky as hell.
Seduction for Blumarine is tainted by romanticism, just as much as the depth of romanticism hides a sensual core.
It’s all about the senses, because beauty asks to be celebrated whichever way and wherever it is, a tutto tondo.
This ability to unleash the senses and enjoy beauty in its many forms is deeply italian. It is a matter of gusto.
The wild rose grows in an Italian secret garden, its petals flying everywhere.
Blumanine are a Wild Rose garden of femmine bellissime who show their strength by being soft, and flaunt their romanticism by being tough.
Blumarine are (...to be continued and filled by every woman)