On the way out through the store, I see a display for Diamonds, my new Emporio Armanifragrance. The head of my fragrance division tells me that the video of Beyoncé singing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” has been getting hundreds of thousands of hits on our Web site. Karen Katz remarks that the diamonds on Friday will blind me—apparently the ladies of Dallas will not be shy in bringing them out for the show.
Outside the store one Dallas lady has been waiting for me. She says she heard I was here and has walked a mile to meet me. These days I am spotted everywhere I go—even in places like Bucharest, where my clothes are not really that well known. I’m sure this is the result of TV, magazines and the Internet, so I accept it, but I never get used to it. There are times when I feel embarrassed.
Of course, sometimes being recognized is fun. After returning to my hotel, I go to the bar with my team for a quick drink. Suddenly a group of women start screaming and run over to me. They want kisses and pictures, and I oblige. The people who live here are not snobs—they are more direct, more open. And they’re really friendly.
I was struck by this 25 years ago too, but then I didn’t understand America at all. Everything was very new to me, and frankly, I was afraid of the unknown. Of course, I’ve changed since then, but so has Dallas. People are more cosmopolitan—a little less Texan and a bit more international.
Dinner, however, is a thoroughly Texan affair. We go to Hibiscus, and I order a steak with potatoes. I am not a great lover of meat, but I believe in having a balanced diet, and that requires protein. And when in Texas…. So a steak it is, with a spicy black bean sauce, which, if I’m honest, I find a bit too strong. I prefer my food simple.
Thursday, September 6
I wake early because of the time difference and order breakfast. At home I have a very regimented routine in the mornings. I work out for at least an hour, and three times a week, as well as my regular café latte and croissants, I eat a meal of chicken, pears, cheese and white rice. This helps me maintain my physical condition.
If I were here longer, I’d probably establish some sort of fitness routine—when I go to L.A., for example, I tend to run in the mornings—but because this is a quick visit, I’ll content myself with a swim in the rooftop pool later on, maybe.
While I wait for breakfast, I flip through a book I found in the room about designer and architect Eileen Gray, who worked in the Twenties and Thirties. I am reminded of how this period of Art Deco holds a great fascination for me and is a constant inspiration. Tomorrow, on the catwalk, a clear Deco graphic influence will be apparent. Then I turn on the television to be greeted with sad news: Luciano Pavarotti has died. On the journey to Neiman Marcus, I think about the great tenor, and it puts me in a somber mood.