When, several months ago, I told some non-fashion friends that I was going to interview Donatella Versace, their reactions were predictable. “Ermehgod! You’re meeting the head fash-un kaweeen!” said one. “She’s absolutely amazing! Just be careful she doesn’t turn you to stone!” exclaimed another, referencing Versace’s affinity with the mythical Medusa, whose snake-clad head adorns everything the brand sells. I didn’t need telling. Although I’d heard from other journalists that Donatella Versace was “lovely”, in the pit of my stomach I found it difficult to believe that this blonde bullet of a woman, with her platinum hair, barely-there waist and burnt-cork-rimmed eyes could be anything other than an Italian Cruella de Vil in eight-inch heels.
It turned out I was wrong. There’s a reason, after all, that Donatella Versace has for 21 years been at the creative helm of the company that bears her name (two years longer than her brother Gianni, who was murdered by Andrew Cunanan in 1997) and a reason we’ve awarded her GQ Designer Of The Year.
Not only is Versace whip-smart and charming, she’s also entertaining, and funny, and a little bit silly. She’s self-effacing and elegant and her outlook is disarmingly modern. When she arrives to meet me at her offices on Milan’s Via Borgospesso, she breezes into the all-white room free of accompaniment or fanfare. The walls of said room are covered with portraits of the designer – shot by Richard Avedon and Irving Penn – the low-slung white leather sofas on which we are to chat are scattered with gold silk Versace cushions and the black onyx coffee table between is laden with platers of expensive-looking cakes (cakes I’m certain neither of us will eat – me for fear of crumbs, her for fear of calories).
The 63-year-old designer is, after all, extraordinarily svelte. She’s wearing a pair of stick-on skinny black jeans (held up on her sylphlike frame with a heavy-duty belt, finished with a baroque gold buckle), into which is tucked a black silk blouse. Her tumble of bleached blonde waves is freshly blow-dried and her hazel eyes (you can’t usually see the colour of Versace’s irises in photographs, but they shine in person) are suitably smoke-shrouded. She greets me with a firm, friendly handshake and she’s unguarded from the get-go. “A man who can make me listen, that’s a man I like,” she says conspiratorially. “And maybe I’ll look at him after, you know? First, I listen to him and then maybe after I look at him.” Wink wink, nudge nudge.
And then she laughs. Donatella Versace’s laugh sounds like a pocketful of coins being tipped into the Trevi Fountain. It’s high, it’s clear and it’s totally enchanting. It’s also a sound that chimes in contrast to the husky, lispy voice with which she speaks. Anyone who has heard Versace talk will appreciate the sterling job Penélope Cruz did impersonating her in Ryan Murphy’s TV serialisation The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (an off-limits subject in today’s meeting). It’s a hum. A thrum. A sexy, thick, tongue-filled sound all of its own. It’s a voice you’d imagine might be difficult to understand in person, but, on the contrary, her enunciation is impeccable.
Versace has come a long way since she was thrust into the limelight at the age of 42, when her older brother was shot on the steps of his Miami Beach mansion and she was forced overnight to take over creative direction of the company he founded. “I’ve been doing it for 21 years now. I didn’t realise. My God!” she says. “Gianni was a genius. If Gianni wasn’t there I wouldn’t be here today. I’m a different kind of person. He broke barriers. Gianni wasn’t afraid. I mean, he was showing sex. At that time, some people said it was vulgar, that was the word given to him, but, you know, women love what Gianni did, not because they showed skin, but because he empowered women. He told them not to be afraid of their sexuality. ‘It’s part of you, you know?’ We all talk about sex like it’s nothing now, but Gianni did that years ago.”
There’s no question that Gianni Versace’s vision was crystalline, the desire he built around his collections dazzling and his commerciality indisputable (at the time of his death the designer had an estimated net worth of £362 million). He also helped to define the visual language of a generation. “He was the first to realise the value of the celebrity in the front row, and the value of the supermodel, and put fashion on an international media platform,” Anna Wintour, editor of American Vogue, told the New York Times at the time of his death. “He relished media attention and masterminded it and everybody followed in his footsteps.”
What is also true, however, is that since her brother’s death, Donatella Versace has turned the brand she co-owns with her older brother, Santos, her daughter, Allegra, and, as of 2014, the Blackstone investment group, into a global commercial powerhouse with a diverse following. Under her aegis it became, in 2011, one of the first superbrands to partner with Swedish high street juggernaut H&M – a move that brought the label to the attention of a new young consumer – and she was one of the first major designers to court customers in Russia and the Middle and Far East. As a result, in the past decade Donatella has helped almost double the revenues of the company, from £210m in 2006 to £600m in 2016. It’s an extraordinary achievement in a time of great change and upheaval in the fashion industry – a time when many luxury brands have lost footing with the digital-savvy millennial market. So what is the secret to her continued success? “I’m approaching fashion in a different way. I’ve changed completely. It was a revolution. I said, ‘It needs to be better. It needs to be cooler. It needs to be a little bit of streetwear, but at the same time it needs to be glamorous,’” she says. “Versace stands for beauty, sex and glamour. And the world today is a fashion world full of streetwear. I like it a lot, but streetwear on its own is going to finish, because it’s becoming all the same, you know? If you do a fashion show it can’t be similar to that.” She gesticulates at the air. “You need to have your own personality.”
When it comes to Versace’s menswear, the clothes are exactly what you’d expect from a designer with a knack for celebrity-driven marketing, a nose for what sells and an understanding of the potency that comes from mixing high fashion with lo-fi streetwear. For her Autumn/Winter 2018 collection, which is available now, Versace showed smartly cut cashmere camel coats and brocade velvet shirts alongside an array of heavy-duty Chain Reaction sneakers and a series of Versace-branded football scarves. It felt energetic, youthful and desirable. Even I – a confirmed minimalist – found myself hankering for one of the collection’s patchwork padded tartan overshirts. But what is the design process that leads to all this alchemic madness? How does a collection come together?
“I have a team, a group of young people with me from all over the world: British, American, Chinese. We sit and talk. I ask them, ‘Where did you go? What did you see? What’s your feeling right now?’ It’s a discussion between us,” she purrs. “My success comes from looking at young people and listening to them. All of a sudden I stopped listening to the people I spoke to before. I listened to the young generation, the new generation. Many of the young people I speak to now are obsessed with me and I don’t know why! I like to talk to young people and see students at school. They look at me and go, ‘Wahhh, Donatella!’ That’s part of the success. I listen and I tell them a story.
“Why do you think they’re obsessed with you?” I ask.
“Because I have a sense of humour... probably. I don’t know. I don’t take myself too seriously.” She laughs. “I get mobbed [sometimes], but that depresses me. And the selfie thing kills me. I hate selfies, but young people really like them, so I’m like, ‘OK, let’s do a selfie.’ I find it incredible when I go to rock concerts. I went to one recently and all these young people were screaming, ‘Donatella! Donatella!’ I was like, ‘Let’s leave.’”
Donatella Versace, after all, is a brand in her own right. Like Karl Lagerfeld, with his ponytail and four-button collars, and Anna Wintour, with her bug-eyed sunnies and high-gloss bob, Versace is a universally recognisable fashion symbol. She’s also easily as famous as many of the celebrities she works with. Indeed, Lady Gaga (“I adore Lady Gaga. She’s such a smart, strong, vulnerable, intelligent woman”) seemingly dressed up as Donatella for the brand’s Spring/Summer 2014 campaign.
“Is her trademark look part of a bigger plan?” I ask. “Does she think it will help her label sell more clothes?”
“It’s important for me. It’s not like I like myself that much. I try to make myself look the best that I can. I’m obsessed with cream and skincare,” she says. “All my life I’ve been obsessed with skincare. First, I used my bleached blonde hair to be distant and to have a façade, because I didn’t want people to find my vulnerability. I wanted to look like a strong woman who can do anything in life and I didn’t feel like that for a long time.”
When Donatella Versace says – with uncharacteristic earnestness – that she’s crippled by her insecurities, it’s hard to believe her. This, after all, is someone who has made a living by both embodying and selling unbridled, libidinous freedom and in doing so become a figurehead for a new generation of empowered women. As we’re speaking, she looks at me like a cat surveying its prey, a halo of glamorous self-portraits on the wall behind her: it’s hardly the image of a woman who struggles with the way the world sees her.
“Insecurity and panic are my main states of mind. People don’t think I’m insecure, but I’m really insecure. I am.” I wonder how she copes with criticism. Each and every season the world’s fashion press descends on Milan with the express aim of passing judgment on the collections on show – and Versace’s is no exception. “I hate it,” she spits with a wry smile. “I hate it. Yes, I read it all and I hate it. But after, I think about it, because I want to understand. Sometimes I find they’re right. That’s the problem,” she says, laughing. “Then I’m upset with myself. But first of all I hate it.” She laughs again.
It’s well documented that Donatella Versace was addicted to cocaine during much of the Nineties and early noughties: she famously checked herself into rehab in 2004 following an intervention from her friend Sir Elton John – himself a former drug addict. When I ask about this period of her life, Versace is unguarded. “I went through hell,” she says. “I was addicted for 13 years... more like 15 years.” She pauses. “I remember very well every moment. It was horrible, but it was fun too. When I talk to psychiatrists and psychologists, they ask, ‘Do you regret it?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I do regret it, but it was also fun.’ It was fun sometimes, but in general it was horrible. It was a different time. The [current] prescription drug [epidemic] is worse because it’s not like cocaine, a drug you use and then stop the next day. [That stuff] really stays in you. It’s horrible.”
Versace was close to the singer Prince, who died from an accidental fentanyl overdose in 2016. How did it feel watching a friend go through a similar experience? “I went to Paisley Park many, many times. We had long discussions. When he started to talk, Prince never stopped, until four in the morning. He was such an intelligent person. We’d talk about religion – he was very religious – young people, how to teach the young generation what’s important and what’s not important,” she muses, playing with the giant amber ring on her finger. “He was a real genius in every aspect. I didn’t realise he was addicted to something, because he was so against drugs. And he had this hip replacement and I think that’s when he became an addict because he was in a lot of pain. He would do a lot of dancing. He was dancing and jumping at his concerts and at one point he couldn’t do that much any more.”
You’ve probably realised by now that celebrity plays a big part in both Donatella Versace’s personal life and in the life of her brand. In the past few seasons alone, she has worked with Zayn Malik on a capsule collection for the more affordable diffusion line Versus, she collaborated with rapper 2 Chainz on those aforementioned Chain Reaction sneakers for AW18, and that’s before you get to her ongoing love affair with Lady Gaga. “I’ve always been close to rock’n’roll. I like music and I try to find new bands and new underground punk bands,” she tells me. “I grew up with Madonna... Robbie Williams did a concert with Tupac at my show. Only I would put these two people together. They performed one after another,” she rumbles. “It was in 1995. I loved it. It was a men’s show. Liam Gallagher was in the audience. He got up and started to walk with the models and I was like, ‘Sit down!’”
Versace’s talent for befriending the rich, famous and relevant (a skill shared by her late brother) has helped buoy her brand’s significance on the world stage, but it’s not just musicians and film stars she’s interested in. She’s close to other fashion designers too. In the past few years, she has helped usher in a new era of inter-support among creative directors at major brands. She’s chummy with the new artistic director of Louis Vuitton menswear (“I love Virgil [Abloh]. I’m a very good friend of his. He’s a very intelligent man”). She’s close to the creative director of Gucci, Alessandro Michele, and she’s pally with Pierpaolo Piccioli of Valentino. So close is Versace to her designer friends that she’ll often attend their shows – an act of generosity many others at her level wouldn’t dream of. “I’ve always been like this,” she says. “For me, if we don’t talk to each other, what is fashion about? We need to keep fashion alive and interesting and the only way we can do that is to keep listening. There are still designers who want to live in an ivory tower away from the world.” But not Versace. Never Versace.
Throughout her career, Versace has made no secret of her passion for the male form. She famously thinks that abs are the most important part of a man’s body, her fashion shows regularly feature much hunkier models than the birdlike boys used by other brands and she was married to a former model for seven years – the father of her children, Paul Beck. But in this age of Me Too and gender fluidity, who is the Versace man? And are his abs still as important as they once were?
“The abs are not the most important part any more. Not at all. It’s not about abs. It’s more about what a man has to say. The Versace man has changed completely from the Nineties to now. The Nineties were about abs, big shoulders, small waists. You know, beauty in general. I think that’s not so important any more,” she muses. “When I do the casting for the show, for example, that’s completely changed also. I want to show more vulnerability and these guys today are vulnerable, they have the same insecurities women have. Usually a man doesn’t want to show that, that insecurity, the emotion. But now talking about young guys and models it’s a totally different world. They’re emotional.”
And what are her thoughts on the Me Too movement? Having worked in the industry for so long did she have any idea what was happening before it all came to light at the end of 2017? “I’m very close to the Me Too movement. I wish it had happened before. Why did it take 20 years to talk about?” she asks. “You know? It bothers me,” she continues. “We all knew that something like this was going on and finally now we talk about it. I’m happy for that and very supportive,” she says. “I feel a little bit guilty because maybe I noticed something, but I didn’t have enough proof to talk about it. I saw it and it made me uncomfortable to look at. Maybe not only in fashion, but in other situations too... It never happened to me, but if anyone had said something to me I would have talked about it. I would have reacted.”
And before I can get a word in, the smokey syrup of her voice has slipped on to an even more unsavoury subject. “Ergh to Trump,” she spits. “Are you British?” she asks me. “He’s coming to see you!” she says, laughing, referencing Trump’s impending visit to the UK at the time of our interview. “I love the big baby blimp!” She says of the giant inflatable version of Trump that protesters would float over Parliament Square to mark Potus’ arrival. “It’s genius,” she says, and then to her PR, “We should do all our windows with the baby Trump when he comes to Italy. In diapers!”
Another big state visit planned for the UK is Versace’s own, for the GQ Men Of The Year Awards. Is she excited about being awarded Designer Of The year? “I’m so proud to win an award for men’s clothes. Not too many women have won awards for men’s clothes,” she says. “Everyone thinks of me as the dressmaker, but I like to make men’s clothes.”
Indeed, at her AW18 show a renewed energy pulsated through the attendant crowd. It felt like a return to form for Versace, whose ultra-sexed-up collections had lost their way during the suiting-obsessed Mad Men era of the late noughties. At the close of the show I overheard one senior editor say, “Now that’s how you do a fashion show.” It was a sentiment shared by many other guests at the Versace Palazzo on Milan’s Via Gesù. Another thing that many of the editors were gossiping about back in January was the rumours that either Riccardo Tisci (who has since signed to Burberry) or Kim Jones (who is now at the helm of Dior menswear) were going to be taking the reins at Versace. It’s perhaps the worst-kept secret in fashion that Donatella Versace – who is fast approaching retirement age – is in the market for a new creative director of her brand. When I ask her about the future of the company she has helped build she is sanguine.
“We will have a very talented emerging designer taking my place, of course. I want to recognise someone who can bring the company forward. I’m very open to that. I want to meet young people and young talent because I want the company to stay forever!” she says. “I look for weird people in a way, not normal people. It’s so important not to think that you are the company,” she continues. “I’m not the company. My team is the company.”
Our time is almost at an end (much to Versace’s protestation, a first for me), but I’m told by her PR that I can ask two more questions. The first is whether Versace will have any time to relax before the MOTY Awards ceremony: “There are two weeks in August I’ll take off. I’ll go on vacation where I’m alone in nature. I love the sea. I love the ocean. I mean, I was born in the south of Italy,” she says. “But I get bored. After one week I’m so bored I want to kill myself. I start looking at trees and nature... It’s all so orgaaan-eecc,” she says, laughing. “I need some chemicals, you know? I’ll bleach my hair. I’ll feel so much better. I’ll bleach it blonder!”
And then, “What makes you laugh?”
“Me!” Versace says, straight off the bat, with a cackle. “I make myself laugh.”
And, with that, Donatella Versace – GQ’s Designer Of The Year 2018 – disappears out of the door in a puff of blonde and I’m left feeling, well, a little bit smitten actually.
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