236 GQ.COM.AU SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2017
Y
ou are not here.”
It’s an inauspicious start
to our Milanese date with
Gucci’s new maestro,
Alessandro Michele.
“Sir, I can state again
that you are not here.”
And so he does – the burly, black-clad
bouncer who’s angular physicality suggests
Eastern European over Italian, firmly
reiterating the error made, that this is not
our point of entry. Not today.
It seems the heavy tint and lithe, low-slung
lines of the Audi that’s ferried us to Gucci’s
so-called Hub, on the industrial outskirts of
the city, is to blame – passing an initial
checkpoint, the first means of division that we
were waved through, arriving at the velvet
rope apparently not meant for us.
Further along we shuffle, to attach to
other members of the general public and
a moving queue that arrives at a lengthy
courtyard informing but a minor piece of
Gucci’s recently opened HQ – a dramatic
35,000m^2 plot of functional, squared buildings
of glass and brick and open space on a site that
once housed Caproni Aeronautics.
Our stuttering debut is made all the more
amusing on eagerly waving back to a familiar
Australian face across the growing crowd,
a child-like display of excited expressiveness
and flapping... only to realise his gesturing isactually for the attractive blonde stood
directly behind. We smile back.
No cigarettes allowed. Not here, beyond
the rope, within the sanctum. Filthy habit,
anyway. And so, instead, we take in Alexa
Chung – looking surprised, as she does,
not a striped Michael Kors top in sight.
The overachieving Brit ‘It’ stares down
the multiple phone cameras of kids who’ll
have likely spoken about themselves, without
hesitation or remorse, in the third person
at some point during the previous 24 hours.
Today, they’ll immediately post their
captures to the millions of followers
(#farshon) they apparently have.
Hari Nef joins ‘It’ as A$AP Rocky uses
the glare coming from his wonderful smile,
stacked as it is with truly luminous teeth,
to part the crowd – and contend with hasty
captures from the kids with the phones,
each craving the further promotion of
a supposedly attractive existence.
Elsewhere, actress Selma Hayek’s cleavage
wrestles against the confines of a tight, lowly
cut pink dress as Bobby Gillespie, great man
and recent feature of Gucci and GQ’s v ideo
series ‘The Performers’, squints into the soft
Februar y sun.
Against a red brick wall, Tom Hiddleston,
stands tall and alone – a smirk smudged
across his private schoolboy face; a smirk
that suggests he’s aware that he’s tall andalone. A smirk that also had him chosen by
Michele to be the face of Gucci’s cruise 2017
tailoring campaign.
The Night Manager lead who blew every
chance of ever being Bond by temporarily
falling victim to Taylor Swift (#tshirt), wears
well the three-piece striped navy suit he’s
opted for (or, had laid out for him on the
firm bed of a large, darkened suite within
a centrally-located designer hotel).
The Englishman’s a stark, sophisticated
contrast to whatever it is Jared Leto’s come
as – bearded and buried under a tiger-
emblazoned hoodie that stretches from
beneath a gothic print denim jacket, coupled
with gym shorts over knitted tights, ankle-
high kicks and headband.
It could be that he’s taken cues from
a Bostonian roofer working through the
cold creases that fold into the latter part of
spring. Could be.
Leto’s a firm friend of Michele – their
bromance blossoming since late 2015 after
the actor and musician (#quirk) was
personally asked by the then newly installed
creative director to use his ageless face to flog
fragrance for the house. They quickly hit red
carpets à deux and then Leto took the Roman
designer to the Academy Awards in 2016,
both sporting Gucci loafers and an
excitement reminiscent of two 17-year-olds
heading for a high school formal.