When Giorgio Armani touched down in Beijing a few weeks ago he crossed paths - or rather cavalcades - with a man who would, ironically, identify a motif of the designer's inaugural trip to China. United States Vice-President Dick Cheney, on his way to Shanghai for an official visit, would the next day leave students at Fudan University with the following words of wisdom: 'Material goods alone cannot satisfy the deepest yearnings of the human heart. That can only come with full freedom of religion, speech, assembly and conscience.'
Think what one may of its speaker, the statement resonates at a time when the mainland, hungry for creature comforts yet still a communist country, is being bombarded by foreign companies keen on a cut of the action. Armani, like almost every major fashion house, is one of them. And while the man himself is arguably one of the best-known designers in the west, thanks to the stylistic symbiosis he has shared with Hollywood since dressing Richard Gere in American Gigolo, there is a lot of groundwork to be done in the Middle Kingdom, a place he has looked to for inspiration throughout his 30-year career.
'He is not that popular yet,' says a Xinhua reporter in Beijing. 'Most Chinese still do not know who he is. They want brands like Louis Vuitton or Gucci.' While Asia, including Japan, accounts for a big chunk of sales for most luxury groups - LVMH attributes 29 per cent of last year's net sales to the region - Armani says only 15 per cent of its 2003 revenue came from the far east.
That leaves a lot of room for growth, a prospect Armani views with both excitement and caution. 'One mustn't take advantage of it too much,' he says of China's awesome manufacturing and consumption potential. 'There needs to be a balance between earning money and making a good, competitive product while not taking too much in relation to those who earn so little. I'm afraid of that.'
While this could sound like heresy from someone who has built an independent US$1.5 billion empire by selling us everything from evening gowns and end tables to cosmetics and designer chocolate, it is in keeping with the contradictions of a man the Milanese call King. On one hand, Armani is a businessman looking for a foothold in developing markets, some of which fall short in the freedom department, while on the other he is a Goodwill Ambassador for the United Nations High Commission for Refugees. He sells out of $12,000 suits and recently signed a deal to design 14 resorts and hotels, but has also devoted an entire collection to the working-class hero and famously declared: 'Luxury disgusts me.' In a world dominated by trends and hype, Armani places the customer before column inches.
While most men his age are hanging up their scissors (Armani turns 70 in July) the gym-addict designer shows no sign of relinquishing control. His schedule for his week in China would have levelled a man half his age and was gruelling for his entourage of staff, journalists, actress Mira Sorvino, Armani ambassador Lady Helen Taylor and award-winning reportage photographer Roger Hutchings. 'It seems to be my destiny that when I come to see cities I have to spend most of my time in hotels, backstage and at press conferences,' confesses Armani. 'But work comes first.'