Mr. Armani was one of the designers who most inspired, taught, and accompanied me over the last years. A true gentleman, full of grace. And yes, undeniably handsome. I arrived in Milan when I was thirty and quickly realized that he was, in many ways, the soul of the city. His effortless elegance, his refusal to take himself too seriously are emblematic of that distinctly Italian style the world so admires.
The first time I shook his hand was at a basketball game, Olimpia-Virtus, but the moment I eventually found the courage to properly introduce myself came at a fashion show. At the game, I was a little embarrassed, since I was rooting for the opposing team. Still, it was impossible to resist the charm of those ice-blue eyes and his firm, decisive handshake, which I ve always interpreted as a sign of a confident presence and lasting friendship toward the magazine I now have the honor of leading.
When it comes to Armani, the story is woven into the very genesis of Vogue Italia. It was Flavio Lucchini, the magazine s first art director, who designed the original Giorgio Armani logo, right there in the editorial office. When the then very young designer decided to go solo, his friend designed the brand s graphics using the same Bodoni font as Vogue, even gifting him a few pages of advertising as a gesture of good luck. The rest, of course, is history. But that anecdote has always stayed with me because it captures the spirit I dream of for our industry today: one built on brave, human exchanges between men and women with big ideas and even bigger dreams, capable of realizing them together. An environment where culture is expressed through tireless work, done with heart, never losing sight of the true essence of our business: people. Especially those who stay by your side for a lifetime, because they believe in a vision they feel a part of. Mr. Armani understood that nothing gives dignity to a person like work, and I ve always sensed that this was precisely what he wanted to instill in his team.
He always managed to make time for us journalists, offering warmth and attention without too many words-he saved those for when they truly mattered. I still cherish his well-wishes for my wedding and the birth of my daughter, as well as the compliments he occasionally offered when an article or photograph really captured the essence of his creations. He wanted his fashion to be understood and brought to life, which is why he supported our work even when others questioned it. Once, he even responded in our magazine to a letter sent by a child to an anonymous Giorgio Armani mailbox. Luca (8 years old, almost 9) wanted to show him his personal collection of modern space-suits: camouflage suits, super-fast suits and one with the power to make you invisible. He wrote, "Please let me know if you liked them." Mr. Armani responded with wonder and gratitude, "I m so pleased you thought of me. I wish I could make them, because they re magical. They make you jump, fly, make you invisible, and they would certainly be very useful in this difficult and complicated time. Never stop dreaming! Giorgio Armani." It was 2020, at the height of Covid, and there we were, witnessing an unexpected, extraordinary exchange of letters about fashion between an eight-year-old boy and an eighty-five-year-old man.
He noticed everything and he devoured stories, day and night. Culture, fashion, society, style. We know how important his friendship with Franca Sozzani was to him, his companion in a thousand adventures. I remember that for the Venice show in September 2023, he insisted on the presence of Francesco Carrozzini, Franca s son, along with his wife Bee. Because Venice was the dream. And Franca was its spirit. Yet that never clouded the profound respect he had for Emanuele Farneti, who was tasked with carrying on Franca s legacy. I still remember a couture show in Paris: at the end of the show, Mr. Armani stepped forward and extended his hand to Emanuele.
He was a man who extended his hand. And when any of us posed for a photo with him, he would actually shake your hand very strongly. A gesture almost invisible to most, yet powerful and deeply personal to those who experienced it. Perhaps that s why every time I wore one of his designs, I felt both elegant and at ease. Because every silhouette was so much more than impeccable cuts and fabrics; it embodied his gentle touch. During my recent visit to the exhibition celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Giorgio Armani Privé line at Armani/Silos, I was reminded of something Lucia Annunziata asked me on her TV show: why should the working class care about beauty? About fashion? Because beauty reaches everyone. It strikes a deep chord in each of us, in different ways. Just like Mr. Armani did. He moved people. And they followed him, they loved him, and he always responded with gratitude and humility, never taking their devotion for granted. Behind the dark glasses and reserved demeanor, he spoke to Italy and the world.
His essence was crystal clear. I attended many of his fashion shows; we were together at La Scala, which he had decorated with flowers after the pandemic. I visited his home to shoot a tribute to Scorsese s iconic documentary Made in Milan. But perhaps my most moving memory with him dates back to last September, on the occasion of Vogue Italia s 60th anniversary. Some designers had declined the invitation to the inauguration of our exhibition at Palazzo Citterio, saying they were too busy during fashion week. But he found the time to enthusiastically accept Anna Wintour s and my invitation to visit the installation and celebrate the anniversary with us. I had just given birth and was very emotional. I clearly remember my heart pounding as I awaited his arrival at the entrance to the Palazzo. He showed up, as he always did - for Vogue Italia, for our country s other fine magazines, for beauty. A free-spirited dreamer, driven by his great passion. I m grateful to have known him, and we certainly will continue to share his vision of fashion on the pages of Vogue Italia. Beyond that, beyond his talent and vision, we will forever remember the man himself, and his love for his profession.
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