This year's Milan Fashion Week lasted six days. On the second day alone, from nine in the morning to eight at night, there would be eleven brand runway shows.
But Gucci was unquestionably the only real center of attention today. Prada, Armani, Fendi, Versace, and the other Italian luxury houses had all deliberately scheduled their shows to avoid clashing with Gucci.
When the Gucci show ended, aside from a handful of people who had to rush off to the next venue, most of the media and guests stayed. Besides the post-show photos and interviews, Gucci had arranged a lavish luncheon, and there would be a grand brand-themed party in the evening as well.
Sofia Fache barely stayed for the fifteen-minute show before she was busy again, and she dragged Janet and Jennifer off to help.
Simon headed to a lounge area next door, another factory space that had been meticulously dressed for the occasion.
The refined sofas, an open bar, and the unavoidable Gucci product displays gave the lounge an artistic flair, while also making it comfortable for people to rest and mingle.
After finishing their interviews and photo ops, guests drifted over here to take a breather and wait for the 11:30 luncheon.
Soon after, the model team for the show began to appear one by one.
It was the busiest season in their world. None of these models had come to Milan for just one runway. But because it was Gucci, at least this morning they didn't need to sprint to other venues.
In a corner of the lounge, at a round table.
Madonna latched onto Simon the moment she arrived. "Simon, The Bodyguard soundtrack sales are insane. Make an album for me, will you? I'll star in a Daenerys Entertainment movie for free."
Madonna was practically glued to him. Simon had to shift sideways a little. "Maggie, the soundtrack's success was a fluke. And honestly, you offering to act in a Daenerys film for free isn't much of a bargaining chip."
"Oh, Simon, that's cruel," Madonna said, relentless, scooting closer again. "Wasn't I great in Pulp Fiction? Or we can cooperate. Like Daenerys and Arista did with The Bodyguard soundtrack."
Simon shook his head again, firm. "Making records takes real focus. I don't have that kind of time."
Madonna sighed theatrically. "Ugh, Simon, you're heartless. And I thought we were friends."
Simon smiled. "If we're friends, we should involve less work."
"You're wrong. Friends help each other," Madonna shot back. When she saw he still wouldn't budge, she pivoted immediately. "Also, I just saw the crew filming The Gucci Documentary, and it hit me. Maybe I should make a documentary for my tour next year."
Simon instantly thought of Madonna's concert documentary, Madonna: Truth or Dare.
In his memory, the film, made from her 1990 "Blond Ambition" world tour, had cost under five million and grossed close to thirty million worldwide, far more successful than Michael Jackson's 1985 concert film.
But Madonna was sharp. Simon didn't show interest too quickly. "The Gucci Documentary is basically brand promotion. What would you make a documentary for?"
"It could be a huge hit," Madonna said, suddenly animated, already calculating out loud. "The budget wouldn't even be that high. A few million would do it. And it wouldn't just be me. Lots of friends would show up on camera to support me, especially if Simon Westeros performs, that's rare. So even if it can't get a theatrical run like Jackson's Moonwalker, it'll still make money through VHS and TV. At least it'll recoup the cost."
The more she talked, the more she convinced herself. She looked up at him. "Simon, want to partner up? If you won't, I'll go find someone else."
Simon caught the faint test in her eyes and laughed. "How about this. You pay for it yourself, and Daenerys can help distribute it. You might actually make a killing."
Madonna could afford it, but she also knew the iron rule in this world: never invest your own money into movies.
Seeing Simon unmoved, she tried again, unwilling to give up. "So I'll just go partner with another studio, then?"
In Hollywood, everyone knew Simon Westeros had an eye. If he showed interest in her documentary idea, whether it ultimately succeeded or not, she could use that interest as leverage to win herself better terms elsewhere.
Simon only shrugged. He was about to speak when a group of tall, gorgeous women came toward them in a laughing cluster, the show's models.
Even Michael Jackson's Moonwalker hadn't made much of a splash. Simon didn't believe Madonna's concert documentary would draw all that many people, so he decided to let her stew. He turned as if his attention had been stolen by Cindy Crawford and the others and greeted them first. "Cindy, you're done for now?"
"Just a break," Cindy Crawford said. "We still have photos in the afternoon." She gave Madonna a casual nod, then sat down boldly at Simon's other side and made conversation for the sake of it. "What are you talking about?"
Simon answered vaguely. Paulina Porizkova, Helena Christensen, Stephanie Seymour, and the other models greeted him and settled around the round table. Madonna, seeing Simon completely captivated by a swarm of sirens, didn't linger to embarrass herself. She stood and wandered off.
Simon was sitting on a minimalist two-seater sofa to begin with. When Madonna got up, he was about to slide over to create space when a slender figure sat down beside him instead. A soft brush of skin, the press of a shoulder, and a different kind of perfume drifted in. Simon turned his head.
A girl with brown hair and blue eyes, high cheekbones, wearing a plain white shirt and faded jeans.
He'd already seen her at rehearsal, and in Simon's memory there was far too much information to pretend not to know. He greeted her in Italian. "Ms. Bruni. Hello."
Carla Bruni blinked, then replied in Italian as well. "Hello, Mr. Westeros. Your Italian accent sounds even more standard than mine."
Simon smiled. "How is that possible? Aren't you Italian?"
Carla accepted a coffee from a waiter and held it in both hands. "I moved to France with my family when I was five."
Simon waved off the waiter and gestured at the coffee already in front of him. "Why move to France? The Bruni family seems pretty prominent in Italy."
"Italy's security got worse and worse back then. My family was afraid of kidnapping, so we emigrated," Carla said. Then she added, "If you're staying here a while, Mr. Westeros, you should be careful too."
Simon nodded. "And call me Simon."
On the single sofa beside them, Stephanie Seymour had been listening to their Italian exchange with growing irritation. She cut in, "Simon, Carla, what are you saying? Nobody can understand you."
"About the mafia," Simon said. "So be careful in Milan these days."
Stephanie wasn't ignorant about it. She shrugged. "We're not some brand-new girls."
Just like that, it was already eleven o'clock. Staff began reminding everyone to head to a nearby hotel, where the luncheon would be held.
As Carla Bruni stood, she casually handed Simon a business card, saying she hoped they could talk again sometime.
Simon didn't have any particular thoughts about the woman nicknamed "the devil who devours men and women." She wasn't his type. Still, he pocketed the card.
For the next few days, Sofia's Gucci team worked nonstop.
Articles, magazine features, and television interviews about the Gucci show quickly rolled out across multiple countries. Some papers and magazines inevitably criticized Gucci's show and the new season's designs as being too commercial, but overall the tone was clearly positive.
In this era, the four major fashion weeks ran in the order London, Milan, Paris, New York.
Not until Paris Fashion Week opened did media discussion of Gucci gradually get diverted by the French luxury houses. Meanwhile, Italian brands like Prada and Armani looked completely overshadowed, crushed in comparison.
The day after the show, Simon and Janet started their own schedule.
First they flew to Rome to meet Giuseppe Tornatore, who was finishing final preparations for Everybody's Fine, and they attended a few gatherings in the Italian film world.
In the seventies, thanks to the rise of the Hollywood Italian mafia, Italian filmmakers had enjoyed a few years of glory in Hollywood.
That glory faded as a string of European directors failed with big-budget Hollywood productions. Still, as the center of world cinema, Hollywood remained an instinctive pull for Italian filmmakers, and Simon, the young Hollywood tycoon who had risen fast in recent years, was greeted with enthusiasm.
Since they hadn't been able to find a suitable residence in Rome when buying property, Simon and Janet stayed only three days before heading to Florence.
His trip drew heavy attention from the Italian press. With multiple identities layered on him, the newly minted richest man in America, a Hollywood media tycoon, and more, Simon became a magnet. Italian media were no less aggressive than North America's.
From the moment he arrived in Milan, Simon had been chased by Italian paparazzi. After bouncing through Italy's three most important cities and offering a few polished quotes when cornered by reporters, he quickly became, in Italian headlines, an American billionaire who was very fond of the country.
Honestly, Simon truly did like Italy, a place with such deep cultural roots.
But the day after they left Milan, after local newspapers exposed the location, there was an attempted break-in at Simon's Lake Como estate.
All of Simon's European residences had alarm systems installed. The intruders were detected the moment they climbed the wall, and Milan police quickly arrested a group of five criminals with obvious mob ties. A high-profile public figure having his private home breached would hurt Milan's image, so the city government soon sent people to persuade Simon not to publicize the incident.
Since there had been no real losses, Simon didn't make a fuss.
Still, he assigned Sofia the PR task of preventing the addresses of his European homes from being exposed in the media as much as possible. He also began considering upgrading, or even custom-developing, a stricter residential monitoring and alarm system. Simon had the territorial instincts of a lion. He didn't care about potential financial loss from a break-in, but the intrusion itself made him intensely uncomfortable.
Florence.
At Simon's estate in the southern suburbs, it was already Thursday, September 28.
Milan Fashion Week had ended on the 26th, and Sofia had led her team back to Florence.
After a day of work, at six in the evening, Sofia drove out to the estate. After asking the guards at the front courtyard, she walked around the villa and headed into the backyard.
On the lawn under the setting sun, Simon and Janet stood together at a long table covered in documents, speaking quietly. Jennifer was there too. When Sofia appeared, the two of them paused and greeted her. Sofia glanced down at the table as if by accident and saw a page titled "Columbia Savings and Loan Bank Bond Asset Risk Assessment," then politely pulled her gaze away.
Simon didn't bother hiding it. "You can't look at these," he told Sofia. "Let's go inside."
Sofia smiled and followed him into the villa.
They sat on the living room sofa. Simon remembered something and asked, "About Everybody's Fine. What's with Sabrina Ferilli? Did you two become close friends?"
Sofia pulled several documents from her bag as she answered, "Sabrina's father is a city official in Milan. He helped quite a bit with us getting that factory venue in the east. This is just returning a favor."
Simon nodded and didn't press further.
You couldn't do business in any country without dealing with the government. And you definitely couldn't grow big without building deeper ties with it. His female executive clearly understood that, so Simon didn't bother micromanaging.
Sofia didn't elaborate either. She handed him the documents she'd brought. "These are Gucci's operating and financial figures for the past few months, plus several project proposals."
Simon took them and flipped open one at random. "Why are you suddenly making me look at this?"
Sofia said, "Based on Gucci's current performance, this year's revenue should break three hundred fifty million dollars, up thirty-five percent from last year's two hundred sixty million. But we still have a big gap compared to competitors like Dior and Chanel. Dior's revenue last year was eight hundred thirty million, with one hundred twenty million in net profit."
Simon gave a small "Mm," waiting for her to continue.
Sofia paused briefly, then went on. "The good news is Gucci's recovery over the last few months has been very fast. My expectation is that next year we break six hundred million in revenue and surpass Dior in 1991. To reach that goal, we have to keep expanding Gucci's scale. The proposals in your hands include an acquisition plan for workshops, a global renovation plan for Gucci stores and staff training, and a marketing budget proposal for the fourth quarter and next year. Simon, if you agree, Gucci will retain no profits over the next two years. I intend to pour all funds into expansion, and if necessary, we'll take on new debt financing again."