It was awkward, in more ways than one. At 1:40 p.m., Giorgio Armani sat up abruptly and announced he was returning to work. O.K., I have to do 60 fittings. He stood and slipped the strap of his messenger bag over his snowy head. He had on a long-sleeve navy T-shirt and dark trousers, and his suntan looked fresh for late September. I scrambled out of the deep, pillow-piled sofa in the salon of his Milan home as he said, Im sorry about lunch, but please stay for something to eat. He motioned toward a table set with a bucket of Champagne. Then he was gone.
Posted on: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 11:45:42 +0000
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