Gianni Versace
1946 - 1997
The clothes of Gianni Versace were sensual—even at their most conservative. At other times, they could be overtly sexual. Versace’s work elicited strong reactions: he was called a genius, and he was often accused of going over the top. As fashion historian Richard Martin observed, “Unlike more polite designers, he is always willing to risk vulgarity . . . Versace knows—like any great artist or designer—that pleasure resides in aesthetic risk.”” Still, Gianni Versace dealt in pleasure. Photographer Irving Penn once confided that he had “a photographer’s privileged view of a woman’s delight when she wears a Versace.”
Versace’s craftsmanship, however, was never questioned. In a review of his Spring 1993 collection, the New York Times’ Bernadine Morris emphasized that there “there is nothing tacky about the way these clothes are made.” Fashion writer Holly Brubach once expressed a similar opinion: “Versace’s true contribution—which is both less sensational and more complicated—has gone largely unremarked. His talent, a gift for innovative cut, was eclipsed by his celebrity.”
Surely, Versace began to develop his respect for construction at an early age. His mother, Francesca, was a custom dressmaker in Reggio di Calabria, Italy, and it was from her that Versace learned his trade. During the 1970s, he designed for the labels Genny, Complice, and Callaghan, and in 1978, he debuted his ready-to-wear collections. His first couture collection, as well as the secondary line, Versus, appeared in 1989.
So prolific was Versace that it is nearly impossible to single out one design as his most memorable: perhaps his safety-pin dress, famously worn by Elizabeth Hurley; or his influential leather ensembles, which were strapped, studded, and bondage-inspired; or the colorful, exuberant Versace prints that revealed his unabashed love of art. Versace was bold, sometimes baroque. He brought the theatricality of costumes he designed for stage and ballet to his runway collections, and while his references were often historical, he dismissed the idea that he was nostalgic. “I have a sense of the future that pervades my fashions,” he said.
In 1997, the world mourned when Versace was brutally murdered outside his Miami home. His grief-stricken sister, Donatella Versace, assumed design control of his company. Donatella had long been a trusted advisor, a collaborator, and, some say, Versace’s muse. Following in her brother’s footsteps has not been easy. She has received both criticism and praise for her interpretation of the Versace woman, but as she told Harper’s Bazaar in August 2000, she wanted to honor, not imitate, her brother. Her work for Versace may be “less sexpot,” but it is still “sexy.”
Versace’s craftsmanship, however, was never questioned. In a review of his Spring 1993 collection, the New York Times’ Bernadine Morris emphasized that there “there is nothing tacky about the way these clothes are made.” Fashion writer Holly Brubach once expressed a similar opinion: “Versace’s true contribution—which is both less sensational and more complicated—has gone largely unremarked. His talent, a gift for innovative cut, was eclipsed by his celebrity.”
Surely, Versace began to develop his respect for construction at an early age. His mother, Francesca, was a custom dressmaker in Reggio di Calabria, Italy, and it was from her that Versace learned his trade. During the 1970s, he designed for the labels Genny, Complice, and Callaghan, and in 1978, he debuted his ready-to-wear collections. His first couture collection, as well as the secondary line, Versus, appeared in 1989.
So prolific was Versace that it is nearly impossible to single out one design as his most memorable: perhaps his safety-pin dress, famously worn by Elizabeth Hurley; or his influential leather ensembles, which were strapped, studded, and bondage-inspired; or the colorful, exuberant Versace prints that revealed his unabashed love of art. Versace was bold, sometimes baroque. He brought the theatricality of costumes he designed for stage and ballet to his runway collections, and while his references were often historical, he dismissed the idea that he was nostalgic. “I have a sense of the future that pervades my fashions,” he said.
In 1997, the world mourned when Versace was brutally murdered outside his Miami home. His grief-stricken sister, Donatella Versace, assumed design control of his company. Donatella had long been a trusted advisor, a collaborator, and, some say, Versace’s muse. Following in her brother’s footsteps has not been easy. She has received both criticism and praise for her interpretation of the Versace woman, but as she told Harper’s Bazaar in August 2000, she wanted to honor, not imitate, her brother. Her work for Versace may be “less sexpot,” but it is still “sexy.”