CLUTCHING a bunch of long-stemmed flowers, Mark McNairy held them just beneath his belt buckle and gave a hired party photographer a leering grin.

A buttery sickle moon notched the dark sky above Chianti. The air at a classical Tuscan villa set high on a hill was perfumed with jasmine and with other more potent aromatics. A group of musicians imported from Puglia for the evening was running the crowd to a pitch, playing the music of the taranta, an ancient folk dance that ends in a dervish frenzy proposed to shake off the pain of living.

But Mr. McNairy was feeling no obvious pain. Neither was the 100 new guests invited to the Milky Pig party, given by Woolrich Woolen Mills during Pitti Uomo, the colossal men’s wear trade fair that twice yearly attracts flocks of fashion peacocks to this city.

That is why the Milky Pig party — and, in fact, Florence — is forever a hot spot on the circuit.

Few can be predictable to recall that a fashion cycle that seems so ingrained was not always as organized as it is now. New York used to come at the end of the show season, a boon for designers committed to the sincerest form of flattery. Milan followed New York.

And long before Milan became a fixture on the fashion calendar, shows in Italy were held in Rome. Florence ultimately stole Rome’s thunder; then Milan, in turn, swiped the shows from Florence. Now there is a move afoot to reinstate the primacy of this Renaissance city as the key destination for both fashion designers and buyers.