Out of tragedy
After her brother's murder, Donatella Versace inherited his family fashion house. It was in trouble - and so was she. Jess Cartner-Morley hears how she turned both around
Jess Cartner-Morley
Saturday February 9, 2008
Guardian
The late Gianni Versace once said, "If I were to marry, I would look for a girl like Donatella." Four decades ago, when Gianni was a young man and his sister, eight years his junior, still in her early teens, he would drive Donatella, her hair already bleached blond and coiffed under his instruction, her outfit approved, to the only disco in Calabria, southern Italy, with their friends. A decade later, when Gianni was beginning his career as a fashion designer in Milan, his indulged baby sister was still by his side - his muse and closest adviser. Rupert Everett, a friend of the Versaces, once described their passionate and fiery relationship as "a locking of energy fields". As the Versace star rose in the 80s and 90s, brother and sister continued to party as well as to work together, although the locations moved from rural Italian discos to starry nights in a huge, elegant family villa on Lake Como, a palatial apartment on Via Gesù in Milan and, of course, Casa Casuarina, Miami.
Then on July 15 1997, Gianni was gunned down at the gates of Casa Casuarina by Andrew Cunanan, and the Versace script was abruptly torn up. Donatella, who for 42 years had lived and worked under the protective wing of her brother, was thrust unceremoniously into the limelight, and into the design hotseat. Less than three months after Gianni's death, she took a bow in floods of tears to a standing ovation at the end of her first fashion show as designer. But the drama did not end there. The goodwill of the fickle fashion world ebbed as fast as it had swelled, and the pressure of saving the Versace name and business proved too much. In 2004 Donatella's career as a party animal came to an abrupt end when she admitted herself to rehab for cocaine addiction.
That was nearly four years ago. Today, it is two days after Donatella showed her most recent collection, the menswear show for winter 2008. There were dramatic black sheepskin ponchos, full-length beaver fur coats, and Beyoncé and Jay-Z in the front row. Versace is glamour to the core, but what has changed is the devil-may-care attitude, the spectacle of decadence that Versace once stood for. The setting for my meeting with Donatella is Gianni's Via Gesù apartment, which now functions as a kind of ceremonial headquarters for Versace, housing the showroom and a grand sequence of drawing rooms that Donatella uses for meetings and entertaining. Beyond the castle-sized doors that open on to one of Milan's smartest streets, a covered terrace is divided into a series of sitting rooms, with geometrically arranged clusters of black and white leather sofas, each arranged around a glass coffee table adorned with orchids. Elegant table lamps provide soft pools of light to counteract the wintry gloom. It is a Monday afternoon, and there are no half-naked supermodels or Cristal-sipping hip-hop stars. Everyone is black-clad and businesslike, from the waiter who brings my water on a silver tray to the glossy haired employees who stalk purposefully across the courtyard stabbing at their BlackBerries.
The floor is polished stone, but to judge by the demeanour of Donatella's entourage, one would have thought it was made of eggshells. In an industry where image is everything, designers are renowned for paying obsessive attention to the minutiae of their environment. I have spent enough time in Italian fashion houses to know that, frankly, an ambience of barely controlled hysteria is par for the course. (It is said that while Tom Ford was at Gucci, he micromanaged the aesthetic of the company to such an extent that an employee who wished to keep a yellow pencil on their desk, rather than black as prescribed, had to have a Polaroid of the pencil faxed to Ford for his approval.) But, here, one does not get the impression that Donatella is giving off-with-their-heads orders. She is not so much feared, I suspect, as protected.
We walk from the terrace to Gianni's first-floor rooms. The decor is that of a state apartment: marble busts in the hallways, plush gilt and velvet armchairs placed in regal pairs, glass bookcases of antique books. I am ushered to a low, mother-of pearl-inlaid coffee table by which two chairs have been placed. An attendant brings two glasses of water and, for Donatella, an espresso in an exquisite pink-and-gold bone china Versace cup and saucer. Another sets down a pack of cigarettes, which have been gift-wrapped in Versace paper, also pink and gold, and monogrammed DV - Donatella, famously, demands that this be done to each one of her ever-present packs of cigarettes, because she dislikes looking at the health warning - and a cigarette lighter thickly encrusted with what I take to be crystals but might just as well be diamonds. The stage thus set, Donatella makes her entrance.
The first thing that strikes me is how tiny she is. Once upon a time, Donatella's voluptuous bottom encased in tight, black trousers was as much a recognisable part of her look as her white-blond hair, but now she is petite, still curvy, but with a waist that cannot be more than 20 inches. In black trousers and a tight, black vest, her body is compact and dense, like a boxer's. She is seated by a window, and her assistant wonders if she will be cold, but she shrugs and explains she is dressed for her portrait. You don't work on having a body like that at 52 only to hide it away. She is striking, with olive skin, heavy-lidded eyes and the candy-floss mane of a My Little Pony.
By rights, Donatella should be feeling rather jolly. The Versace label is in a healthier state than it has been in the 10-and-a-half years she has been at the helm. In 2006, after several years of running at a loss, the company posted profits of €19.1m (£14.2m). In 2007, sales rose 30%. The company's debt, which stood at €1.5m (£1.1m) at the end of 2005, has been turned around into assets of €11.3m (£8.4m), despite the phasing out of licensing agreements that were bolstering sales but dragging down the image of the label. The prestige of the Versace name is also at a new high. Sarah Mower, the respected fashion commentator, called the last womenswear collection in September 2007 "hot, easy and believable", adding that "in days gone by, she might have loaded bling and busy prints on to dresses like these, but if there's one thing Versace has discovered in herself in the last couple of years, it's that she can also make glamour radiate from restraint... proof that Donatella Versace is at the top of her game". And while Donatella has been gaining respect for her own work, that of her brother has been enjoying a renaissance as a reference point for young designers. The London catwalk shows - often a signpost of the direction other cities will take in subsequent seasons - were last year full of references to Gianni's iconic clothes.
For all that, Donatella, although gracious and polite, is visibly on edge, her hand trembling as she sips her espresso. The British fashion press in particular have not always been kind to her so, to reassure her, I relate what Christopher Kane, a young star of London fashion week for whom Versace has been a major influence, told me when I asked what drew him to the label: "What has me hooked about Versace is the strong, sexual, elegant and sophisticated predator-woman that it seems to embody." She considers this for a moment. "I wouldn't say the Versace woman is predatory. I would say she is seductive. Women need to seduce in order to achieve their goals. I don't just mean seduce men - they need to seduce other people, and they need to seduce themselves, because once you seduce yourself, you start to like yourself and are better able to achieve what you want. There are lots of ways to seduce - the brain is the best seduction tool you have. But clothes can help, too."
The economic logic behind this - that looking sexy will get you what you want, and therefore it makes more sense to spend £1,000 on a scanty Versace cocktail dress than on a MaxMara cashmere coat - is at the heart of Versace. This is what gives the label its aura of sex and success, an aura that, handled well, can rub off on to lip glosses and keyrings and beach towels, boosting their market value by 1,000%. Donatella understands this perfectly: "The customer who wants something Versace," she says, "wants what Versace stands for."
But the challenge she has faced over the past decade has been far, far tougher than simply creating more and more party dresses. The fact is that when Gianni died, the company was already in need of financial restructuring. (Gianni was considering going to the stock exchange the following year; since his death, those plans have remained on ice.) What's more, the conspicuous consumption with which the label was associated - Malcolm McLaren once described Casa Casuarina as "a demimonde of stupendous and orgiastic splendour" - was already beginning to look anachronistic in a new era of stealth wealth.