BELLISSIMA: WHAT VERSACE MEANS TO ME

My longtime love for the house that wears its heart - and gold, and chains, and leopard print, and Medusa heads - on its sleeve.

On reflection, this 1994 Versace campaign by Avedon was subtle.

Now, this may surprise you, but I am not synonymous with Versace. But it’s the fashion house that I’m the most sentimental about, the one that turns me right back into a teenager. And I’ve been Versace-ing hard this week – firstly watching the Super Models documentary with Christy Turlington, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista and Naomi Campbell, and following that, an Icons event that Donatella Versace hosted in Manhattan. (The photographs are hilarious: I am the only one in a pink Versace shirt, surrounded by a sea of minxes in black dresses). Cindy was there too, with fellow super-legend Helena Christensen. All of these women were my first real imprint of fashion.

Just me in my pink shirt squishing Cindy Crawford.

I’m one of many, obviously. I was born in 1974, so when George Michael’s ‘Freedom 90’ hit - with the famed supermodular Versace show not long after - I was the peak-absorption age of 16. (Also, during the ‘Faith’ era, I thought George Michael was straight, so clearly my brain was made of actual sponge).

Anyway, to me, Versace was fashion. It was just so explicit about it. To Gianni Versace, style didn’t whisper, it sang… opera. It was hot, sexy girls in wild colors and leopard prints, all thrown together, and gold, gold, gold. I didn’t dress like that – never have – but I knew enough to admire it. You felt, through Gianni, the unadulterated, uncynical, uninhibited love he had for glamorous women. You felt the dreams of a young gay man from Calabria that had finally come true. Gianni was, at the very, very least, an enthusiast, never trying to cloak his craft in diffidence or forced, self-conscious cool. And every part of who he was lived in his clothes.  

Gianni was the man. And I’d slip Christy Turlington a fifty to wear this again (right).

In 1997, I was living in London and working as a temp at the BBC when Gianni was killed in Miami. I still remember that sunken-heart feeling. And it wasn’t just me, it was everyone, oddly, in the conservative office, like the air had been let out of a balloon. I’d never even come remotely near Gianni’s orbit, but he had lived in my dreams for years.

This mythology didn’t escape the women who came to fame with Versace, either. Christy Turlington was 17 when she shot her first Versace campaign with Richard Avedon. “Cindy [Crawford] was there too,” she remembers. “It was the mid-80’s. We were perched on the shoulders of male model Adonises or flying in the air held by a foot or leg. Big hair and gestures to match, everything larger than life.”

Cindy adds, “The first time I worked with Gianni and Donatella, I felt so empowered in the clothes. What a revelation to see myself through the Versace lens of strong sexy women.” Look at them below! Babies, but ascending fast.

Baby Versace Christy.

Baby Versace Cindy.

Helena Christensen had recently moved to New York from her home in Copenhagen when she did her first Versace shoot. “I was wearing Vintage ballgowns over long johns with sneakers, with a bad perm, blue mascara and frosted pink lipstick. Stepping into the Versace universe, dressed in otherworldly gowns by Gianni himself, with a bevy of talented seamstresses stitching the gown to perfection on my body was a mind-blowing and magical experience ‑ to put it mildly.”

No perm on Helena, but who didn’t die for this campaign?

That’s the joy of Versace, nothing is ever put mildly. Another reason why I’m so attached to Versace is because one of the splashiest, most “fash-on” labels is also, weirdly, the kindest. Donatella Versace took over from Gianni after his death and has spent the decades since reinforcing and broadening the brand’s legacy. Now, I’ve only met Donatella a couple of times (I knew her mostly by reputation), but she is lovely, warm and funny. And while she is often fondly caricatured, she’s lacking an ounce of self-seriousness.

And of course, in gay culture, Donatella is canonized. My friend Phillip Picardi, who is CMO at the Los Angeles LGBT Center says, “Donatella accepting her brother being gay in a Catholic, patriarchal society in Italy when being gay was immensely stigmatized, means a lot. I don’t think the enormity of that is fully grasped.”

In March this year, after the Versace show in LA, “Donatella chose to visit our community center,” Phil says, still sounding a little shocked that it happened. “There are LGBTQ elders and youth experiencing homelessness who live with us: they all came out to see Donatella, and people were in tears. I remember, she got onto the stage and the whole audience, full of queer and trans people, were chanting her name and cheering for her, giving her a standing ovation. And she started tearing up.”

Phil, living the dream with Donatella at the LGBT Center.

He continues, “When I escorted her to the stage, she was kind of trembling. I said, “Donatella, are you OK? What’s wrong?” and she said, “I really don’t want to let you guys down.” I cry thinking about it because we mean so much to her, and right now it feels like we mean not enough to everyone. That’s why she will always be one of us.”

I’m pretty sure putting it mildly doesn’t get you that.