THE LEGACY OF ARMANI

Milan, 1975. Giorgio Armani was forty, restless, and ready to gamble everything - even his old Beetle - on a new vision of style. With business partner Sergio Galeotti and a handful of colleagues in a tiny office, he set out to reimagine the suit. What came out of that room wasn’t loud or flashy. It was something subtler: jackets with their armour stripped away, trousers that actually moved, colours that were more like stone and sand rather than neon and gloss.

 From the start, Armani’s philosophy was different. His tailoring didn’t wear you; it worked with you (a philosophy that would carry him, and the brand, for the next five decades.) By 1976 his first womenswear hit Milan Fashion Week, and whispers of deals in New York began circulating. One thing was clear: Armani wasn’t just a designer launching a label. He was quietly redrawing the blueprint of contemporary fashion

By the mid-80s, the red carpet was his runway. Diane Keaton set the tone in a slouchy Armani tux at the Oscars, a power move that made androgyny glamorous. Julia Roberts followed in vintage Armani, stealing headlines with effortless simplicity. Jodie Foster added her own twist in a pink Armani suit, proving tailoring could be playful as well as powerful. Cate Blanchett carried the torch with sculptural satin gowns that proved minimalism could be just as commanding as sequins.

The grip was so strong that by 1990, the Academy Awards were jokingly dubbed “The Armani Awards”, thanks to the sheer number of stars wearing his designs. And it wasn’t just film. On TV, Miami Vice turned Don Johnson’s pastel Armani suits into a global obsession. Rolled-up sleeves, sockless loafers, suddenly Armani wasn’t just for the elite. He was beamed into living rooms around the world, shaping not just red-carpet glamour but everyday looks.

Armani didn’t just dress Hollywood. He defined it.

By the mid-90s, Armani wasn’t content with just filling wardrobes, he wanted a spot on your bathroom shelf too, stepping into the world od fragrances. Enter Acqua di Giò in 1996. Fresh, oceanic, clean, it didn’t just become a bestseller, it became the scent of a generation for men. If you grew up in the late ‘90s or early 2000s, chances are you knew someone who wore it religiously. It was confidence, bottled, the fragrance equivalent of slipping into an Armani suit.

If Hollywood made Armani glamorous, sport made him universal. And let’s be real, no one else was suiting up footballers like they were movie stars. In the late ‘80s and ‘90s, Squadara Azzurra swapped post-match tracksuits for razor-sharp Armani tailoring. Suddenly, the tunnel walk looked like a runway.

Even the Olympics weren’t immune to the Armani touch. He designed the official uniforms for Team Italy in 2006 and again in 2012, because of course he did. Opening ceremonies turned into tasters for Armani’s collections, athletes marching out not just as competitors, but as ambassadors of Italian style.

And let’s not forget Manchester United in 2008. Armani kitted them out for travel and appearances, proving even the most iconic club could benefit from a little Milanese polish.

The message was clear: whether you were lifting a trophy, walking into a stadium, or just boarding the team bus, Armani made sure you looked like a champion.

Here’s the thing: while everyone else in fashion is chasing viral moments, Armani’s just… not playing that game. No TikTok stunts, no shock-factor looks. He’s the guy at the party who never raises his voice, but somehow, everyone still turns to listen.

Take AW12 in Milan. While other designers were going maximalist, Armani went dark and deliberate: velvet jackets cut close to the body, a glimmer of shimmer catching the light. It wasn’t loud, but it oozed quiet wealth, the kind of collection that made you lean in rather than step back.

Fast forward to SS18, and he switched gears to breezy optimism. Think pastel tailoring, watercolour silks, and soft trousers that looked like they belonged on the Riviera. It was elegant without the stiffness, proving Armani could still set the tone for summer dressing decades into his career.

Then came SS23, where the mood was all about movement. Beaded jackets and fluid gowns floated down the runway, understated at first glance but rich in detail up close. No theatrics, just clothes designed to shine when worn, the sort of pieces that quietly win best dressed without needing a hashtag.

And in AW24, Armani leaned into dreaminess. Long, fluid coats, sheer gowns, midnight hues touched with light, the kind of collection that felt both grounded and otherworldly. It was proof that Armani hadn’t lost his touch: still contemporary, still relevant, but always on his own terms.

So, what do we take away from Armani’s story following his passing earlier this year? That fashion lost a giant, but one who never needed fireworks to prove his point. Armani showed us you could make a suit sexy by softening its edges, that women could step into boardrooms without hiding behind shoulder pads, and that a red-carpet gown didn’t need sequins to steal the spotlight.

He left his fingerprints everywhere. Office dressing? Softer, easier, instantly cooler. Sport? Squadara Azzurra and the Olympics suddenly looked like fashion shows. Fragrance? Acqua di Giò and Code basically defined what “good” smelled like for an entire generation. And all the while, he stuck to his golden rule: keep it simple, keep it consistent, let the clothes serve the person.

And here’s the fun part, his influence hasn’t gone anywhere. Look at Saint Laurent’s relaxed blazers, Fear of God’s cocoon coats, The Row’s pared-back minimalism. All of it owes something to Armani’s blueprint. Even those roomy ‘90s suits people once laughed at? They’re vintage gold now.

That’s the magic of Armani. He didn’t chase trends, he outlived them. Power, for him, was always about confidence in a whisper. And honestly? That whisper is still echoing louder than most of fashion today.