Consuelo Castiglioni has her woman down pat: She’s the eccentrica, dressing for herself, rather than others. Occasionally flashy, but never ostentatious, mixing day and evening, precious and junk with enthusiastic abandon. Regardless of the theme of Castiglioni’s biannual women’s collections, there is always a sense of the Marni woman walking amongst us: She is frequently front row at the label’s shows, swathed in paillettes and tweeds and fur the color of boiled sweets, celluloid jewelry clattering as she applauds.

The issue comes each January and June, when Marni presents its menswear collections, because the male incarnation of the Marni muse is far less distinctly defined. Castiglioni eschewed the runway for more than half a decade, showing her menswear on the rack and via lookbook. This time last year, Marni opted to step back onto the podium. Which brings with it a host of new challenges and demands. Namely, it becomes not about pieces—the coat, knit, or fur you gravitated towards on the rails in Marni’s showroom—but about the look, and about elucidating the person you eventually see wearing it. Stepping onto the runway means stepping up your game.

Marni isn’t there yet with its menswear. There’s a certain ungainliness to their male offering, as if we’re looking at the son of the Marni woman, rather than her potential partner. Which is, of course, fine: Youth is something plenty of designers try to sell to us, with their skinny suits and cropped pubescent proportions. Yet it’s more that the runway message at Marni thus far winds up feeling underdeveloped. A work in progress, waiting for a growth-in-confidence spurt.

So it was for Fall 2016, which had some great pieces—wide-cut coats, tight-buttoned blazers, a color palette of mustard, maroon, and eyeshadow blues that occasionally hit the right note and zinged—but not enough to sustain the energy a show demands. Castiglioni said this collection was about intimacy, that the message was personal. But many of the clothes felt anonymous, albeit well-executed and, sometimes, desirable. The first is an accusation you can never level at their female counterparts, regardless of your taste. The label’s signature furs were present in nutria scarves and knee-length coats, in slightly odd shades—courgette green, gingery red. They formed highlights, touches of the eccentrico Castiglioni seemed to have sadly cast asunder, for the Marni man at least. They were sorely needed—them and more. Consider this a plaintive cry for next season, from the would-be Marni men. They are legion.