January 02, 2016


"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think I was done?"


Immi snorkeled into his whisky sour for one last time and flung the empty pyramid-studded crystal glass in the general direction of the flight attendant.

"I shan't be disturbed until further notice", he hissed, "Donatella needs me looking 'frash as a dezzy'". As he tugged the custom lilac satin jewel-encrusted Medusa head sleep mask back over his eyes, he sighed with glee at the thought of the weekend to come. 

Roused by the sound of clapping from behind the coach class curtains, Immi knew he had safely made it to Milan Malpensa Airport. He ruffled through his Fendi tote, in search of the Loewe clutch containing his phone.

"Grazie mille 4 flower", his latest iMessage read, "see you in soon time!! XXDONNY *cigarette emoji* *black moon emoji* *champagne bottle emoji*"

With a wistful smile he flicked the rose gold 6S at his trembling assistant Milagro and swished out of the airport. "Casa Versace!" he bellowed to the puzzled-looking driver, who was actually a pilot on his break walking by. After a few frustrated tries he got into the right S Class and was whisked off to his beloved date.

"Tesoro!" Donatella Versace cried as she click-clacked down the front door Carrara steps. "Ees dat Bright Crystal Absolu I deetect?" she moaned as the old friends exchanged baci. "Cahm, cahm we 'ave the room ready to drahp your leetle theengs and after we meet downstair for caffè". 

Immi shot her a look of abject horror.

"Ghahaha", she chortled, "you know I mean straight vodka, you are crèzzy or what?"

"Oh, Donny...", the younger than ever style guru smiled at the fourth wall as the incessant bleeps of his Instagram like notifications stirred up the white doves on the front lawn, "...never change".

As he furrowed his brow at Milagro scurrying around his room unpacking, Immi poured some Acqua Panna on his wrists since they were sore from swiping 'delete' on 423 unread fan e-mails. He leaned against a musquash fur humidor and replied "new phone who dis" to his best friend who was venting about her financial woes and humiliating break-up.

After supervising the colour-coordination of all his luggage, Immi Versace-strutted down the stairs, making sure to perfectly mimic the alternating swing of his hips and hair with Natasha Poly's stomp at the SS05 show. Since unpacking had taken about five hours and night had already fallen, he had to squint through several crystal bead doorway curtains to finally find the real Donatella - and not the wig stands he had mistakenly approached and started up conversations with in various dining rooms across the house.

"Bella, let's get this weekend started!", he beamed as the iconic designer listed the ristorantes they would be seen at that evening. The happy pair clinked their Christofle flutes to Donatella's favorite Grimes tune.

*Sixteen hours later*

"Immi...Wake ahp, I 'ave a flight to Lausanne in 20 meenoots."

One eye open, Immi raised his face up from the shattered Greek revival crockery on the ballroom table.

"Did... did we have a good time out?"

"I only jahst found you, my darleeng, you ran away screaming last night claiming you 'ad seen Gianni's ghost in the flames of your Sambucca! Thees house is too big you know, I actually never found Chreesteena Aguilera back after her veeseet in 2012, I looked in all rooms and in the pop charts. Not a seengle trace of her..."

"So fun!" Immi chirped as he plucked a Cheryl Fernandez-Versini Claire's eyelash from underneath his tongue. "Rematch soon, though?"

"You know it, my lahve. Ciao amore!"

And just like that, the bff weekend was over.


*All events described in this piece are purely fictional, but the author is aware of the astounding verisimilitude.

Photos: SSENSE, GagaDaily, Elle Decor & Donatella's Instagram