‘Giorgio Armani’s work outlived the noise’: Tarun Tahiliani on the Italian fashion designer’s legacy

Last Wednesday, while packing for a flight to Dubai, I tossed the Financial Times magazine into my bag as something to read on the plane. It turned out to be the FT Sunday magazine, Italian fashion designer Giorgio Armani looking back at me from the cover. A day later, in the middle of a photoshoot, the news flashed that Armani had passed away, at 91. A chill rushed through my body. I had just read his cover story the night before. Somehow, it felt like even his timing in death was immaculate. On the cover one week, gone the next. It felt like a finale only he could have orchestrated, with the same precision that marked his career.

The obituaries that followed over the next couple of days were familiar: the wartime childhood, the medical school that did not engage him, his years of work as a window dresser, and then at fashion house Cerruti, before he struck out on his own to build one of the world’s most successful independent fashion empires. The labels were also predictable but accurate: “perfectionist,” “control freak,” “a man of unflinching discipline”. All true, of course, but was that the legacy he left behind?

‘Clothing for movement and life’

My first memory of Armani as a label was as a dishwashing student in New York in the ’80s, when I fished his trouser out of a clearance rack at Bloomingdale’s. I did not know his name then. I bought the trouser because it was affordable and felt amazing, and I still have it. I no longer fit into it, but some things refuse to be discarded. That is what made his clothes special. He made clothes that endured. They did not lose their relevance even after they stopped being worn.

His genius, I think, was in subtraction. What Chanel did for women is what he did for men. Chanel freed women from corsets, and Armani freed men from their rigid suits. He softened the armour of the men’s suit, stripped away the padding, and let his fabrics mould to the body. Ease and comfort were the mantra. For women, he created tailoring that was strong and feminine, a balance that never felt forced. What he offered was not fashion as costume, but clothing for movement and life.

Much before “quiet luxury” became the buzzword, Armani was producing it. When I walk on the streets of Milan and see the walls, cobblestones, and colours, I know exactly where his palette of beiges, greys, and charcoals came from. Critics have accused him of repetition, but I wager they may have missed the point. He was not chasing trends. He was insisting on his vision, season after season, for decades. In a culture obsessed with novelty, I think his steadiness was rather radical. A vision where there are few.

He also understood the theatre of pop culture. Actor Richard Gere in American Gigolo (1980) turned him into an international name, and Hollywood embraced his vision. Yet he never let marketing eclipse his values of comfort, quality, and timelessness. We do not know Armani today through his celebrity endorsements; we know him through his clothes. He seemed to have known that his work would outlive the noise.

‘He created the trends’

For those of us designers in India, I think there are lessons here. Our fashion has thrived on an excess of embroidery, layering, and opulence. It is exuberant, but can often get overwhelming in the modern milieu. The modern Indian man can move from a Mughalesque sherwani one evening to a black tuxedo the next, and both may look good on him. But after 79 years of independence, perhaps as designers, we need to ask ourselves what our singular voice is.

It is not a coincidence that today it is difficult to differentiate several designers’ work from one another. Armani’s Italy had Versace’s flamboyance, Dolce & Gabbana’s drama, and still he was able to carve out his own territory with restraint. Not to forget Valentino, and many other amazing voices from luxury brands Marni to Miu Miu. Never once did he deviate from his true essence to meet market trends. And in doing so, he created the trends.

When I think of the Armani pieces I bought as a student, the first trouser from the ’80s, I wonder if a student were to buy it today, would they wear it in 2025? That ease of design he had to create something 40 years ago, that authenticity which continued until his death, is a lesson in branding. His clothes endure not because they announce themselves, but because they whisper. That is Armani’s legacy: style that does not demand attention, but holds it quietly. For Indian designers, including me, his life is a reminder that vision is not futile, clarity is not arrogance, and restraint is not compromise. They are all strengths. This really represents the passing of an era.

Giorgio Armani passed away on September 4 at his home in Milan at the age of 91.

The writer is an Indian couturier renowned for his embroideries, drapes, and corsets.