Giorgio Armani Designs

Since I need a break from my usual emotional posts, and since famous fashion designer Giorgio Armani passed away today at the age of 91, I decided to compile a list of some of the designer's most beautiful and memorable red carpet looks. 

Armani originally attended medical school in for several years before joining the army in his native Italy. When he left the army, he became a department store sales clerk and window dresser, eventually becoming a seller in menswear, where he learned about both design and marketing. He moved on to a job designing menswear, then became a freelance designer, eventually opening his own office with a partner in 1973, although he continued to design for multiple other firms as a freelancer. In 1975 he opened his own firm and presented both a line of ready-to-wear menswear and a women's line for spring and summer 1976. In 1979 Armani began producing in the United States. In the 1980s he began to branch out into fragrances and cosmetics. He saw the marketing value of cultivating a relationship with Hollywood, pioneering the concept of celebrities wearing designer fashions on the red carpet, and in 1980 he designed Richard Gere's suits for the film American Gigolo. He was also the first high-end design to support the idea of sustainable fashion, and banned models with a BMI under 18 following the death of a runway model due to anorexia nervosa in 2006. 

Armani's designs featured muted colors, relaxed lines, and soft fabrics (often mixing contrasting fabrics like silk and wool), and sophisticated silhouettes. 

Armani's first ever red carpet look was for Diane Keaton at the 1978 Academy Awards. Keaton wore a white blouse, a long full double-layered skirt, a loose-fitting blazer, and a looped scarf, all in shades of ivory, beige, and grey. 

Victoria Beckham wore a 1989 Armani design as co-chair of the 2008 Met Gala. The white, semi-sheer lace gown featured a tuxedo collar, a long center front slit, and narrow drapes in lieu of a train. 

Julia Roberts wore an Armani suit when she won her Best Supporting Actress Academy Award in 1990. The oversized grey suit  featured wide-legged trousers and a thigh-length jacket, worn over a white dress shirt and a charcoal grey necktie. 

Two years later, in 1992, Armani dressed Jodie Foster in a pale lilac tuxedo with baggy silver beaded pants, a nipped-in-waist, and a shawl collar, accessorized with lilac satin gloves. It was the beginning of a 30-year collaboration for the two, with Armani claiming to have rescued her from the Worst Dressed lists. (He wasn't wrong.) 

This 1992 Armani design hit the red carpet in 2025 when Mikey Madison wore it to the Critics Choice Awards. It channeled classic Hollywood glamour with a black velvet bodice and ivory silk gathered skirt and crushed sash, accessorized with black velvet wrist-length gloves with ivory satin cuffs. 

Katie Holmes went "flapper chic" in a vintage 1993 shiny red strapless Armani at the 2008 Met Gala, accessorizing with a long multi-strand necklace, bright blue pumps, and a Louise Brooks-inspired bob. 

At the 1997 Oscars, Salma Hayek accessorized her sleek scoop-necked, figure-hugging white sequin Armani gown with a satin clutch and what else? A diamond tiara by Cartier. 

Red carpet gowns need to catch the eye from every angle, including the back. Charlize Theron's black satin Armani gown at the 2005 SAG Awards included a back opening with exquisite dangling beaded details and a sculpted train. 

In 2007, Beyonce became the spokesperson for Emporio Armani Diamonds fragrance, and she walked the red carpet at the Academy Awards in a pale green Armani gown with a thigh-high slit, a short train, and a floral wrap forming a single shoulder strap. 

One of my personal favorite Armani designs, Anne Hathaway wore this diagonally-beaded silvery-white strapless mermaid column to the 2009 Academy Awards. 

Clare Danes wore a nude crystal-encrusted strapless Armani column with a reverse curved neckline and a short train to the 2010 Emmy Awards. 

Armani could design geometric as well as sleek silhouettes, as proven by the sculptural blush pink gown worn by Jennifer Lopez at the 2010 Academy Awards, which featured a folded-over strapless neckline and a large gathered accent at one hip.

Armani also designed avant garde fashions, including this futuristic gown worn by Lady Gaga at the 2010 Grammy Awards. The gown featured a bell-shaped skirt that was cut away at the front and encircled with stiff loops that continued up the bodice and over one shoulder. 

In 2013, Jodie Foster stunned in a midnight blue crystal-embellished Armani column with criss-cross satin straps. 

Jessica Chastain's beaded copper gown from the 2014 Academy Awards landed her on all the Best Dressed lists. The custom gown had a simple, sleek silhouette that clung in all the right places and formed a graceful puddle on the floor. 

Nicole Kidman wore a cobalt-blue Armani gown to the 2018 Academy Awards. It featured a deep sweetheart neckline, a slightly flared skirt, a broad front slit, and an oversized bow detail at the waist. 

Cate Blanchett appeared with the designer himself at the 2019 British Fashion Awards wearing a sparkly champagne-colored sleeveless Armani gown with a full skirt, a satin belt, and a frothy feather neckline. 

Anne Hathaway wore this stunning white empire-waisted Armani column at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival. It featured an off-the shoulder wrap that fell into a narrow rectangular train. 

Zendaya wore this stunning pink and grey one-shoulder Armani design to the 2024 Oscars. The silk gown featured a beaded palm tree design. 

Another of Armani's sculptural designs, Demi Moore won a 2025 Best Actress Golden Globe in this metallic gold trumpet gown with swirled bodice detailing. 


Armani's designs were always beautiful, always classic, and always flattering, and he leaves behind quite a legacy of both runway and red carpet looks that will continue to pass the test of time. 

It's Not How You Finish, It's How You Start

Let me begin this entry with a confession: My house is a mess. 

This is not even the messiest room. The sink is full of dirty dishes because I haven't emptied the dishwasher. The toilets need scrubbing. There is definitely toothpaste in all the sinks. There is dust and cat hair on every flat surface. Housecleaning has simply not been my priority of late. 

My priority of late has been getting out of bed. Taking a shower. Brushing my teeth. Making sure my kids have what they need for school. Feeding everyone. Running an occasional load of laundry. Keeping up with the bills. The most basic of basics: Sleep, food, hygiene, shelter. To say that I am struggling to find motivation is a huge understatement. It's hard to get started with anything, because every task feels so overwhelming. And if I can't finish it, why start it?

Because it will eventually need to be finished, that's why. Because starting something is exactly that: a start. The laundry piles and dust kitties won't get smaller, the grass won't get shorter, the paperwork won't get easier, the bathrooms won't get cleaner. Starting those tasks doesn't mean they'll go away, but it will keep them manageable for those moments when I do have the energy and the motivation to work on them. 

And the funny thing about getting started, especially when you're struggling with grief or depression, is that it makes it easier to keep going. Since it was comfortably cool this morning, I decided I would tackle mowing the back yard after the kids went to school, before I took a shower. I told myself that if I ran out of steam, I could skip the far side of the yard that isn't really visible, which made it easier to make myself start. And guess what? Not only did I finish the whole back yard, I mowed half of the front yard as well. 

And since that looked so good, I emptied the dishwasher and filled it up again. It was so nice to have a semi-clean sink that I kept going and hand-washed the oversized pot lid that doesn't fit in the dishwasher and scrubbed the cookie sheet that had been soaking for a day or two. The kitchen is still kind of a mess: the stovetop needs scrubbing, the crumb catcher of the toaster needs to be emptied, there are a few pantry items on the table that have yet to find their way into the pantry. I won't be finishing this task today. 

But I started. 

Momentum is a beautiful thing. And emotional momentum is an even more beautiful thing. Both grief and depression tend to feed off themselves, creating an emotional downward spiral that's difficult to break out of. But if you just start, sometimes that momentum will move you out of that spiral. Doing just part of what needs to be done can inspire you to keep going. And if you don't keep going? So what? You still did something. Now there's less to do. You took a step in the right direction. 

Looking at my "to do" list, I don't know how I'll ever finish it. But at least I can start. 

I Put It Away, Then I Got On With Things

Last Labor Day weekend marked the first event my husband and I participated in together as "Band Parents." Our son had joined the high school marching band, and they needed parents to volunteer at parades, competitions, and football games, to help with uniforms, serve as chaperones on the buses, and march alongside the band to help clear the way and provide water to the students. We dutifully showed up at the school and were given our official nametags and bright blue polo shirts with the band's logo on them.  

Today, I chaperoned solo. It occurred to me last night that I needed to find my polo shirt, which presumably had been hanging in my closet since the end of last marching season, and my nametag and lanyard, which....honestly, could have been anywhere. So when I got up this morning, I went through all the shirts in my closet and didn't find it. But occasionally clean laundry gets put away in the wrong closet, so I started going through my late husband's shirts, and I found his polo shirt hanging neatly, with his name lanyard carefully hooked around the same hanger. And I realized that he doesn't need it any more, so I should return it to the school. 

Doesn't sound like a big deal, right? And at first, it wasn't. But as I laid the hanger on the kitchen table with my purse so I wouldn't forget it, it suddenly hit me. Putting that shirt back in the uniform closet was a definitive statement that he was gone. He would never march in another parade, take another photo of his son in uniform, drum along with another cadence, ride another bus back to the school, pass out another water bottle. We would never again reminisce about our own marching band days or laugh at our nerdy high school selves. We wouldn't be going to band parent meetings together. I would be doing all of those things solo. 

None of those things are hard to do alone; I'm perfectly capable of doing all of them myself. I have done them all myself, on occasion. It's not the same as figuring out how to maintain the pool or who to call to turn off the irrigation system or mowing the lawn. It's the knowledge that part of the fun of all those activities was doing them together, and that part of my life is over. 

I will admit that tears were running down my face as I drove towards the school with his shirt and lanyard on a hanger next to me. When I parked the car, I took a moment to pull myself together, wiped my face, blew my nose, and brought the shirt inside. I hung it in the closet with the rest of the shirts, took his nametag out of the plastic sleeve, and returned the lanyard to the designated box. And then I took a deep breath, and marched out of the closet to start my pre-parade duties. I put it away, then I got on with things. 

It occurred to me later in the day that this could be a healthy way to deal with all of the reminders of him that I will come across over the coming weeks and months: cry over it, put it away, then get on with things. Dwelling on them isn't productive, hanging onto them only prolongs the pain, and life keeps moving along, so I'd better get on with it. 

Letting go of things isn't easy for me. I have definite packrat tendencies. But when I do finally let go of things, like weeding through my craft supplies or donating clothes that no longer fit or giving away toys that my kids have outgrown or tossing 200 of the 500 twist ties that have accumulated in the kitchen drawer, it feels really good. It feels like a weight has lifted from my shoulders. It feels like I can breathe a little more freely. 

Letting go of reminders of him will be a little harder. Okay, a lot harder. But I have the memories, so I don't need the stuff. The stuff just holds me back, keeping me in the past, in my grief. Maybe, just maybe, letting go of the stuff will let me move ahead to the future, out of the grief of loss and into the joy of memories. 

I just have to put it away, then get on with things.