Dear Valentino Garavani,
I just finished watching a movie about you entitled Valentino: The Last Emperor and I was on the verge of tears at the end. I think I knew that you had retired, but I must have pushed it out of my mind because it’s such a depressing thing to think about. This movie made me fully realize what a real loss your retirement was to the fashion industry.
You sir, are still one of the most brilliant and creative minds to ever have graced the famous realm of this world. I have admired your couture collections for many, many years. I remember sitting around watching Fashion TV, engrossing myself in your genius as it would come down the runway and always aspiring to design with the fervor and supremacy that is clearly “Valentino“.
You have been one of my style inspirations for a very long time. I continue to fall in love with your work every time I see it. No one could ever do couture the same way you did. You have an eye for fine detail and superb elegance that makes your work unique and perpetually alluring for generations to come.
Also, I find you as a person to be much like me. You live in the “fantasy” of your own world. You care not about the business part of it, the finances, what have you. I understand these are important things, but you and I both prefer to live in the world of luxury, glamour, and pure, unadulterated fashion. To us, there is nothing more important than making someone happy because they’re wearing something that exudes opulence.
Valentino, I must admit that the entire time I was watching this movie I thought to myself (and out loud to my mom) that one day, I hope to be even half as amazing as you. You wonderful, amazing man. I want to be celebrated by the world for my achievements as you were at your 45th Anniversary Party. I also want to be your friend so that we may converse in broken (on my part) Italian, go skiing in the Alps, yachting in Venice, and have photoshoots in Rome. In plainer words, I want to be as fucking awesome as you, Mr. Valentino.
I want to be equally as vain and self-righteous. I want to have my initials on the back of models’ stockings, and in sculptures and in the background of the runways. I want to have fucking Andy Warhol paintings of my face on my goddamn yacht. I want people to bend over backwards to make me happy if I don’t like the way something is shaping out. I want to be that amazing and powerful, yet at the same time, reserved and collected. You embody the kind of power I want to have. You are one of my “heroes” if I were to say I actually have any.
I hope you’re yachting the shit out life and skiing in the Alps with Giancarlo, happily enjoying a very well-deserved retirement.
Always an admirer,