Armani: “It's So Old School, It's Modern.”
New York has Ralph Lauren, Paris has Chanel, London has Burberry. Here in Milan, the flagship show is Giorgio Armani—has always been, will always be. Armani’s such a pillar in Milanese fashion that the organizers purposefully schedule his show for the last day of fashion week, so the editors won’t leave before the small shows are over. Such is the power of Armani: You can’t say you’ve done Milan until you’ve seen his show.
Today, I experienced my first-ever Armani show. “Finally, you’re in for a proper Milanese fashion show,” my fellow editor told me as we settled into the plush theatre-style seats. Cushioned seating being a luxury one doesn’t often experience, it was already clear this was not your typical fashion show.
These days, many major shows can be accurately described as a “sh*tshow,” with overblown guest lists to accommodate TV presenters and Instagram It-girls as well as the usual bloggers, buyers, and press. But Armani refuses to let his shows take on a circus-y feel. Like Lauren, he presents two shows back to back on the same morning to make sure each feels like an intimate affair.
Instead of an elaborate set, a simple sculpture resembling a pond of white lillies sat in the center of the runway. When the lights went down, the audience dutifully darkened their phones. When the music started, it didn’t deafen. And the models walked—not stomped—to it, oddly paced just a half step behind the beat. “Oh,” I realized, “they’re walking slowly so we can see the clothes.” That’s a novelty these days, when models typically tear past the audience in a blur, stopping only to mug for the camera pit.
On Monday, Armani showed a collection of soft suiting, fine organza skirts with beaded tops, pretty pink drop-waist dresses. The models were not the young, quirky-looking, whippet-thin models favored at other shows. His own cast of mannequins, a touch older than the rest, better displayed the beautifully made clothes for a woman who doesn’t have much to prove.
After the last of the models wearing separates left the stage, a brief pause, then three models in navy floor-length gowns emerged to polite-but-spirited applause. The models sashayed back and forth, which felt distinctly throwback, like we were witnessing a salon presentation in the 50s. Then, Armani came out just to the back of the stage, collected his plaudits, and disappeared.
As the house lights went up and the crowd exited in an orderly fashion, I had the sense I’d witnessed a fashion show the way they used to be: Saner, more orderly, nothing circus-like, just beautifully made clothes on beautiful people, and a crowd who respected the role of the Armani brand in fashion. Said one fashion editor on the way out: “It’s so old school, it’s modern.”
