Blame it on Armani

Having opened a posh Madison Avenue boutique that was now all the rage, Armani set out in 1988 to do the same thing on Rodeo Drive. No longer would Hollywood's garments need to be special ordered from New York or scared up at Maxfield. For the opening of his Rodeo Drive enterprise, Armani knew he had to make a Hollywood-size gesture. But at the time he had no personal profile in Hollywood at all--he'd never even stepped foot in Los Angeles. So, in a town where most glitzy events operated as benefits that anyone with the high price of a ticket could attend, Armani decided to keep his event determinedly exclusive. In place of the money raised by ticket sales, he made one large donation to L.A.'s Museum of Contemporary Art in the form of a rental fee, then invited a short list (about 300) of Hollywood's most powerful and/or stylish to a MOCA gala that was budgeted in the vicinity of $350,000. This being one of the few things in Hollywood you couldn't buy or barter, the invitations became the hottest item in town.

Spago did the catering. Peter Duchin provided music. The guest list featured Richard Gere, Bob Dylan, Anjelica Huston and Martin Scorsese. MOCA's walls were stripped of paintings, removing all distractions from Armani's clothing. As the worlds of Hollywood, fashion, art and society merged, they were treated to a fashion show that was as tony an affair as most had ever seen. The entire evening had the effect of making everyone feel complimented by being put in proximity to such refinement. And it was great fun. Mr. Armani was an instant celebrity.

Now he really went to work. With the highly touted Gabriella Forte mapping out his marketing strategy, he brought in Jackie O.'s sister, Lee Radziwell, to draw in socialites. Then he made the wholly unprecedented move of hiring Wanda McDaniel, a writer who'd covered the film industry for the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, to bring her personal powers of persuasion to the task of convincing Hollywood stars to wear Armani designs to prominent events. Well-connected to the Industry and married to Hollywood producer Albert S. Ruddy, McDaniel was well acquainted with Hollywood's A list and was willing to work it.

Her mission for Armani--getting his designs on the backs of celebrities--seems so basic today that it's difficult to imagine what a far-fetched idea it was then. Never before had a designer attempted to court specific stars, offered to dress them gratis for public occasions, and turned them into walking advertisements. McDaniel went through her Rolodex and touted Armani to every publicist, manager and actor she knew, and she talked up Armani at every dinner party she went to. All the while, she kept her eye out for the one actress who could best personify her boss's high-end elegance, for it was now the women's line that Armani wanted to bring into the spotlight.

In the end, Armani found the star himself It happened as he was watching a tape of Brian De Palma's 1983 cult favorite Scarface. During the scene in which drug lord Al Pacino's icy moll rides an elevator in a backless blue gown, Armani realized he was looking at the actress born to wear his clothes. Michelle Pfeiffer was lithe, poised and impossibly beautiful even at her most unadorned. McDaniel made the contact.

Pfeiffer, not yet an A-list star, was flattered by McDaniel's approach and agreed to wear Armani to the 1989 Academy Awards. So new to the Oscar level of glamour that she had no suitable jewelry of her own (and still unaccustomed to having jewelers lend her gems), Pfeiffer wore McDaniel's engagement ring as her sole accessory on that memorable evening. As for the outfit, Armani chose for her a simple, exquisitely tailored long skirt and jacket discreetly lit up with magnificent silver buttons. It was a fashion statement of extreme and luxurious understatement. She looked stunning.

Before the '89 Oscars, Armani was a badly kept secret; afterwards, he was big news. The cover of Women's Wear Daily, blazing with the headline "The Agony and the Ecstasy," juxtaposed two photos to illustrate its point. The "agony" was beautiful blonde Kim Basinger in a ghastly one-armed white satin dress she'd designed with rock star Prince. The "ecstacy" was beautiful blonde Pfeiffer in serene Armani style. The contrasting pictures reverberated from Hollywood to Seventh Avenue, resulting in a changing of the style guard that sent over-the-top on its way out and ushered in a sleek new version of va-va-voom.

Meanwhile, McDaniel made a call to Jodie Foster. Foster had turned up at the 1989 Oscars in a light-blue taffeta dress with a big bustly bow on the back that made her backside look as large as a refrigerator as she went onstage to receive her Best Actress Oscar. As the press added jibes at her gown to praise for her comeback, Foster explained that she'd spotted the dress in a store window as she was walking along the street in Milan and had purchased it more or less on impulse. Later that year, McDaniel offered the Oscar winner a suggestion: next time she was planning to attend a special occasion, perhaps she'd like Mr. Armani's assistance. Never having been one who enjoyed solving the intricate mysteries of fashion glamour, Foster accepted the offer and became a hard-core Armani disciple.

The idea of systematically persuading stars to wear one's label in the limelight was now being picked up by other designers as Hollywood began to shift into a new glamour phase in the mid-90s. In fact, the practice has become such a vulgar competition over the last several years, it's easy to forget that the original strategy was subtle. Today, Hollywood is rife with tales of boxes filled with tens of thousands of dollars of unsolicited, big-name designer's clothing that arrive at a star's offices to be picked over by the celebrity and passed on to assistants, publicists, etc. By contrast, Armani's idea has always been to discreetly key in on a select group of people who fit the house's ideal. It was a matter of establishing personal relationships. Once Armani had drawn the chosen stars into his orbit, he spoiled them in style. He threw dinner parties in their honor and treated them to a level of luxurious fun that was magic even to a star. At different times, he flew Michelle Pfeiffer, Ben Affleck, Claire Danes and Jeremy Irons to Italy for fashion shows and special events, and then hosted them at one of his five homes in Europe. Being Armani's friend was a pleasure.

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