Versace, Versace, Versace. My introduction to the House of Gianni took place when I was about 12, traveling in Italy with my mom. She scooped up a fierce faux-Kelly giant handbag in a glossy black mock croc (giant golden Versace Medusa blazing on the clap, I still have little girl fantasies about the day mommy looks away and the gem is mine). And I was over the moon when I finally found something that fit me: a pair of size 24 jeans that an incredibly minute customer had had altered and then never came back and bought. Trophy jeans at 12, grazia mille Gianni. Too bad I haven't even been able to ram one forearm into them since 1998.But then Gianni got shot and the label came under the tightly Botoxed watch of the fearsome Donatella and I haven't really given the brand much a second thought since. That is, with the exception of Angelina's liquid brass metallic gorgeous gown at Cannes this year. And the collection I saw yesterday at TCS really didn't do much to revise my opinion of Fashion Fringe's main matron and her flamboyant converging on tacky quintessentially Italian mamma taste (skin tight leopard and flashy jewels for all! Andiamo!).
(Cases in point)But if there's one thing the Italians know how to do it's shoes. And I have to say, Donnie's pickings for SS10 are nothing short of phenom. Water snake peep toe boots in peach and lemon yellow, spotted platforms, frescoed ankle boots and spidery strappy creations--Guiseppe Zanotti better watch his step, because Donatella's heels this season are seriously crunching his toes. Ain't nothin but a shoe thing baby. And that's amore!
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