Marlene Wagman-Geller

Jul 15, 2025 by Marlene Wagman-Geller

 

“I don’t mind not being tall. I think tall.”- Donatella Versace

 

Upon hearing the name Donatella, (though it necessitates switching the o to an a), one might conjure an image of the fifteenth century painter, a Ninja turtle, or a world-renowned fashionista. Donatella Versace is the fabulous, formidable, and unforgettable force behind a world acclaimed label.

 

There have been memorable brother-sister singing acts: Richard and Karen Carpenter, Michael and Janet Jackson, Donnie and Marie Osmond. But in the world of haute couture, the duo who ruled the roost were Gianni and Donatella Versace.  The story of the sibling act began in a world far removed from the one where they indulged in conspicuous consumption on steroids. 

 

The family who commandeers a billion-dollar industry hailed from the coastal region situated on the hard toe of Italy’s geographical boot. When Donatella arrived a decade after the end of World War II, Reggio de Calabria still bore the scars from heavy Allied bombings. Their town was a petri bowl of nature’s wrath who buffeted it with torrential rains, killer mosquitoes, and earthquakes. The region’s landlords were Roman dukes and archbishops, disinterested with the privations of the poor. Another pressing concern was the local Mafia, cut from the same ilk as its Sicilian counterpart. The patriarch, Antonio Versace, after his obligatory two years of military service in Mussolini’s fascist army, married Francesca, owner of the eponymous dressmaker shop, Francisca Versace. Before she cut into a bolt of fabric, Francisca made the sign of the cross. The couple had children Fortunata, (Tina), Santo, and Giovanni Maria, (Gianni). In 1952, the Versaches visited a carnival where Fortunata scraped her knee that resulted in tetanus.  A doctor treated her with the wrong medicine, and the twelve-year-old passed away a day later. Healing arrived a year later with the birth of daughter, Donatella.

 

Kindred spirits, the nine-year age difference between Donatella and Gianni did not prove an impediment to their Krazy-glue joined at the hip relationship. Known for her glow-in-the-dark platinum locks, she first assisted her natural color at age ten, when, at Giovanni’s urging, a hairdresser gave her highlights. Every year her brother urged her to go lighter until, at age sixteen, her strands appeared pigment-free. Years later, she explained her love of the platinum hue, “To be blonde means to be caressed by the sun, and to be your own sun.” Gianni was delighted, his mother far less so. A rebel from an early age, Donatella snuck out of her home in parental censored attire; her school suspended her when her eyeliner rivalled that of Cleopatra’s. After classes, she headed for the beaches of her Ionic coast to roast under the sun that turned her skin the color of Milan’s rooftops. For his sister slash mannequin, Gianny fashioned a patent leather miniskirt, and a bright yellow top, a style she completed with patent-leather boots. Of the sibling dynamics, Donatella recalled, “There was always Santo, the calm one, Gianni, the enfant terrible, and me.” Despite the natural beauty of Reggio, with its view of Mt. Etna, its isolated locale made Gianny desperate for escape. In his hometown he was disparaged as the boy who preferred sewing to soccer, boys to girls. Tonto to her Lone Ranger, Donatella followed in his footsteps.

 

In the late nineteen seventies, Donatella attended the University of Florence where she studied literature and languages. Compliments of her brother, rather than the torn jeans and fringed vests of the hippy era, she wore clothes by the Japanese, Paris-based designer, Kenzo. When Gianni bought them a pair of matching full-length leather coats, they stood out in Calabria like the idiomatic sore thumb. Inordinately conscious of her appearance, Donatella habitually gave herself the once over when passing by a mirror; dining on her miniscule portions, she surreptitious peered at her silverware for her reflection. On the weekends, the diva-in-training headed for Milan where she worked alongside her brother. The studio consisted of a few rooms with a two-person staff.  Gianni’s niche was creating costumes for the theater and ballet, as well as those for the catwalks of Italy. Wildly innovative, his designs ran the gamut from Seneca to harlequins to Andy Warhol, a glaring contrast to the traditional staid sweater set, and pearls. Initially, Donatella worked as his assistant before switching to public relations. After Francesca’s death, a distraught Donatello dropped out of university, and Giovanni became even more devoted to Donatella.

 

In 1978, Gianni had become sufficiently successful to debut his own name collection and his own boutique. An initial enigma is why he choose the logo of the snake-haired Medusa, a figure from ancient Greece, to represent his contemporary Italian label. The answer lies in Magna Graecia, the strip of Southern Italy colonized by the roaming Greeks in the eighth century B.C.E. that included Reggio Calabria. As a child, Gianni had been intrigued by his hometown’s archeological ruins -one of which bore the face of Medusa. The misunderstood deity’s hubris led to her boast that she was lovelier than Athena. In retaliation, the goddess cursed Medusa with a serpent hairdo that turned those who gazed upon her into stone. He must have thought his choice was prescient: when he acquired an over-the-top 45,000-square-foot baroque palazzo on Via Gesù, once owned by the Rizzoli publishing dynasty, the palazzo’s door knocker bore the image of the Greek Gorgon. The palazzo has leather chairs embossed with oversized Medusas; expresso cups have mini ones. The bad girl of Greek mythology appears on doors, etched in glass, and on employees’ belt buckles. One bathroom has fourteen: on the door, multiple mirrors, drawer pulls, faucet, soap, toilet paper holder, and toilet brush.

 

Gianni and Donatella ran Versace as their sibling fiefdom in which they cooperated and clashed in equal measure. Not a fan of his sister’s skintight pants or her ever-present heels, he told her to lay off those “damn stilettoes.” Desirous of hiding her five-foot two stature that made her feel dwarfed by statuesque models, Donatello clung to her high heels as steadfastly as Barbie did her pink plastic pairs. Despite their spats, they remained each other’s greatest fans. As Gianni stated of his sister, “We can fight at six o’clock and have a nice dinner at eight.” With the runaway success of his company, Gianni treated his kid sister to lavish apartments furnished with the mantra “the best of everything.” When the money flooded in, Gianni gifted Donatella a twenty-carat diamond ring- a mobile strobe light. As his right-hand woman, Gianni designated Donatella as the designer of his Versus sportswear that leaned towards leather and studs. Their tight bond is apparent with his statement, “I can be in Chicago or on the moon, and we’ll talk a hundred times a day.” Although in many ways they were the same sign of a coin-they both loved fashion and luxury- there were differences. Gianni collected art, his sister stockpiled diamonds; he was a committed bibliophile, Donatella partied till dawn; he courted painters, she gravitated to rockstars.

 

Gianni had stated, “If I was to marry, I would look for a girl like Donatella.” Whether or not his sister shared his sentiment, in 1985, Donatella wed Paul Beck, a model from Long Island, New York. The venue was a tiny church in Moltrasio on Lake Como. Ornello Vanoni, an Italian pop star, was the maid of honor. The bride wore a gown designed by her brother. Gianni’s wedding gift was a lavish apartment on the exclusive zip code of Viale Majno that underwent a major renovation. The plum real estate held two kitchens, several dressing rooms, and vast closets. Her bedroom bathroom, that a friend dubbed “the eighth wonder of the world” held python-covered chairs, tiles that depicted massive Magritte pink and red lips. Her bathtub was made of marble. Eventually, Gianni acquired two more adjacent apartments that left Donatella with a twenty-one room home. Donatella would be the first to admit she is not a minimalist.

 

With the number of rooms, there were more than enough for a nursery. During her pregnancy, Donatella continued to puff her ever present Marlboro Reds that left her with a hoarse voice. Her pack of cigarettes had a unique appearance: she had instructed her Milan staff to cover the words “Smoking Kills” on the warning label with a sticker bearing a DV monogram in medieval script. Her lighter carried pink crystals; her ashtray bore the Medusa logo. Pregnancy did not entail putting her sky-high heels in storage. When her daughter was born, Gianni christened her Allegra Donata. Her doting uncle, who referred to her as his principessa, showered her with attention and costly gifts such as an antique tiara and a ruby necklace. From age nine, she accompanied her uncle on visits to museums in England, France, and America. For Allegra’s birthday, Elton John sent her a grand piano, and once treated her to a performance. Not an adherent of the Greek “golden mean,” Donatella threw her daughter over the top parties. For one birthday, Versace employees doubled as party planners. Fifty children attended the festivity held at Via Gesú. Gianni fashioned Allegra’s dress: not fond of rambunctious kids, he was a no-show. Before leaving, each guest received a party favor that consisted of Versace perfumes, T-shirts, and purses.  Daniel, who arrived four years later, received his name from the Elton John song. In Gianni’s book, Do Not Disturb, in which he described his magnificent estates, the dedication was a tribute to his niece and nephew, “to my little princess” and “my little teddy-boy.” In one of the book’s photographs, Allegra is dressed as a hoop-skirted infanta. Vacations consisted of five-star hotels and restaurants. When Donatella took Allegra ice-skating at the elegant Swiss resort at St. Moritz, the over-the-top mother wore a black catsuit, a gold ski jacket, and diamond bracelets. (If Donatella skated, hopefully the blades were the same height as her towering heels). She admitted on ski vacations she never hit the slopes, but added, “I have gorgeous clothes.” Several muscular bodyguards, and a personal assistant that bears a striking resemblance to Fabio), trailed their path. Mama mia!

 

The 1990s were the golden years for the king and first lady of fashion. The decade saw the world’s greatest super models strut down the Versace catwalk; Liz Hurley made her splash in that safety-pin dress; each pin bore the Medusa logo. As one of the world’s most celebrated designers, Gianni fashioned clothes for Lady Diana, Elton John, and Madonna. With the meteoric rise of their star, Giovanni bought Villa Fontanelle on Lake Como, (Donatella’s room was all pink), a palatial apartment in Milan, an estate in Manhattan and Casa Casuarina, in Miami.

 

After Gianni purchased his Miami mansion, (its original owners had named it Casa Casuarina after a Somerset Maugham story), Donatella became a part of the celebrity culture where she partied with rockstars and their teenaged Lolitas. In 1994, she attended Madonna’s thirty-sixth birthday party where the material girl bared her breasts before jumping into her pool. Donatella made her own variation of a splash with her gold dress covered with Medusa heads. In a kaleidoscopic blur, she was in Milan with Tupac, in Paris with Lisa Marie Presley who worked as a Versace advertising model. Her frenetic pace could also be attributed to squeezing every drop life offered, “To go to sleep is the last thing I want to do.” Her lack of sleep may also have stemmed from her daily eight cups of expresso. Nights were a tapestry of champagne and coke-the latter not of the soft drink variety. Shrugging off rumors about Donatella’s addiction, Gianni replied, “My sister’s crazy.” By her forty-first birthday, Donatella’s lifestyle was akin to a spinning top. During nights of hedonism in the restrooms of upper end clubs, Donatella snorted cocaine. In the past she had used Bic pens and rolled up dollar bills; her personal style evolved to drug paraphernalia that consisted of a tiny gold spoon with a Medusa head on its handle.

 

As she aged, Donatella became a camp goddess. Due to decades of bleaching and hot ironing, a top Manhattan hairdresser flew to wherever Donatella was staying to style her extensions. She redid them every six weeks for an annual expenditure of $150,000 per year. A commando at dieting, her toned arms are the size of Twizzlers. Donatella’s makeup routine entails black eyeliner, and layers of false eyelashes, some made of mink. Actor and friend of Donatella, Rupert Everett, described her as “a kamikaze blonde in black leather and stilettos, more like a character from Blade Runner that the stately doyenne of a Milanese fashion house.” Per her instructions, her chef uses low fat ingredients without salt and a mere drizzle of oil. Her accessories are golf-ball sized diamonds, and a gold watch that would look oversized on Shrek. Her towering heels add six inches to her height and her sexy attire accentuates her toned body.  She owns outfits in every color of a Crayola box except red- the color of the house of Valentino.

 

On “Saturday Night Live” comedian Maya Rudolph performed a recurring sketch of the Italian socialite, where diamonds flash like meteorites.  After seeing the skit, Donatella phoned Rudolf and complained, “I can tell from a mile away that your jewelry is fake, You can’t do that to me, darling…I’m allergic to it. I get a rash all over my body.”

 

The money that flowed into the House of Versace served as Donatella’s genie. Siblings Gianni, Santo, and Donatella’s wealth distanced them from their hardscrabble youth in Calabria and created a mind-boggling lifestyle. When staying at the Ritz in Paris-along with her bodyguards-Donatella flew in her own florist from Milan as she deemed the hotel’s flowers not up to her exacting standards. When the manager showed Gianni the Imperial Suite, he turned it down as too expensive. He added, “Give it to my sister. She likes grand things.” Other favored hotels were the pricey Waldorf Towers in Manhattan, and the bungalows at the Beverley Hills Hotel. When notified she would be their guest, The Dorchester Hotel in London sprayed her suite with her favorite floral perfume. After renting the palatial villa in St. Tropez, owned by the French rock star Johnny Hallyday, she brought her own furniture to replace the Native American décor. Price was irreverent to Donatella. If her expenses exceeded her generous salary, Santo and Giovanni picked up the tab. When the blues intruded, Donatella visited Cartier on Via Montenapoleone and Manhattan’s Harry Winston, to pick up statement pieces. Private jets were de rigueur.

 

After returning from the United States in 1997, Gianni experienced hearing loss in one ear, his cheek was swollen, and he lost a great deal of weight. Tests revealed he had a rare form of inner ear cancer. A nurse arrived daily to Via Gesù to administer chemotherapy; his seclusion fueled rumors he had AIDS. In his absence, Donatella became the face of Versace. A Vanity Fair article entitled “La Bella Donatella” showcased her photograph in which she was nude-except for the diamond that her brother had bought her as a gift. As she took on more responsibilities, Gianni began to consider his sister more his rival than his partner. Under a cloud of sibling discord, aware of impending mortality, Gianni wrote his will. 

 

After six months, cancer in remission, the sibling iceberg melted. In 1997, Gianni was at his oceanfront Miami mansion, thrilled at having regained his health, and looking forward to joining Elton John at his new villa in Nice, France. Early in the morning, he headed to The News Café to browse magazines and newspapers. Returning home, as he walked up the marble stairs of his estate to unlock its iron gate, twenty-seven-year-old Andrew Cunanan, a drifter mired in delusion, shot Gianni in the neck and face.

 

While Cunanan fired his fateful shots, eighteen fashion houses, including Valentino and Fendi, were organizing a catwalk on the Rome’s Spanish Steps. The organizers were honoring Gianni Versace who, along with Yves Saint Laurent, Coco Chanel, and Giorgio Armani, was one of the world’s greatest designers. Donatella had arrived the evening before where she stayed at the Hotel De La Ville, a seventeenth century palazzo-hotel. She had booked the hotel’s best room, an eighth story penthouse whose terrace offered views of the Vatican and the Colosseum. The suite had a white baby grand piano, compliments of composer Leonard Bernstein who had lived there for six months.  

 

During preparations, Santo cried out, “Donatella, vieni qua subito!” Come with me!” When Donatella phoned the hospital in Miami, the physician responded that her brother had passed away three minutes ago. Her primal scream stopped the models in their tracks. She later recalled, “It was like a storm. Everything was rubble.” Her next thought was of her children, alone in their hotel room watching cartoons. Eleven-year-old Allegra and six-year-old Daniel were in a state of shock as the news of their uncle’s murder had interrupted their show; they had seen Gianni, blood seeping from his wounds. So great was the throng of reporters that thirty bodyguards had to escort Santo, Donatella and the children from the Hotel De La Ville into the Mercedes. A private jet flew the siblings to Florida. Feeling that they would not want to stay at Gianni’s mansion, Madonna had extended an invitation to stay at her home, one they refused. They were unable to grieve in peace as Casa Casuarina was under media siege. Caught up with the preparations for the funeral, Donatella retained her composure. However, at dinner, when the chef served vanilla budino, her brother’s favorite, she broke down. The following day, the siblings returned to Italy. Santo held the gold box that contained Gianni’s ashes. Donatella had the key to the gate of the Miami mansion, the last thing her brother had held. For Santo, his brother’s death was the second lost sibling; for Donatella, her brother had been her life’s constant companion, her soulmate.

 

Of her desire to stage a fitting funeral for her brother, Donatello stated, “Gianni was killed like a stray dog, I want him to have a funeral fit for a prince.” The venue was the Duomo, Milan’s magnificent cathedral, the world’s third largest Catholic church. Rumor alleged that Santo had greased palms for the accommodation in the amount of $500,000. The Versace siblings convinced Milan to close off the Via dell’Arcivescovado, a concession not even granted Pope John Paul II. A who’s who of celebrities bid arrivederci to the designer whose murder had shaken the house of Versace to its foundation. In the sea of 2,000 mourners sat Princess Diana; six weeks later Santo and Donatella attended her funeral. Other well-known attendees: Giorgio Armani, Anna Wintour, Valentino and Karl Lagerfeld. Sting and Elton John performed a mournful rendition of the 23^rd Psalm.  The VIP section of the church could only be accessed by passing in front of the state of a skeletal St. Bartholomew, loose skin slung over his back, the result of his gruesome death. Sitting on a pew, faces etched with grief, heads covered with black veils, sat Donatella and Allegra. A few blocks from the Milan Cathedral, the city’s fashion district had closed their doors.

 

When the attorney read the will, Santo and Donatello sat in stunned silence: Gianni had excluded them.  He had bequeathed Gianni’s fifty percent share of Versace, a company valued at $805 million, to his princessa, Allegra, ensuring she would never have to sing-or sew-for her supper. She was to come into her fortune at age eighteen. He bequeathed his art collection, that held two Picassos, a collection estimated at $47 million, to Daniel. Donatella was shocked at the fact that her daughter had become one of the world’s richest heiresses: a huge responsibility that meant a life of bodyguards. Santo was upset his children had received not a mention or a memento from their uncle. Gianni’s multi million dollars homes in Italy, Lake Como, Manhattan and Miami became the property of the shareholders: Santo held 30 percent, Donatella, 20 Percent, Allegra, 50 percent. Because the art collection was in the company’s name, it also was the property of the company.

 

After the funeral, Donatella, Paul and their children fled the media frenzy and flew to Necker Island, the British Virgin Island resort owned by British magnate, Richard Branson. The cost of their stay was $12,000 per night. Haunting her Virgin Island retreat was the ongoing horror of the past, and the fear of the future. While Santo was to continue his role in the financial operation of Versace, Donatella was to assume a new role in Versace. Despite her devastation, she had to look after two minor children; Allegra was traumatized and had practically stopped eating-the onset of her chronic anorexia. Marital troubles led to her divorce shortly after her daughter’s thirteenth birthday. Her second marriage, to Manuel DAllori, lasted a year. Afterwards, dating was low on her hierarchy. She explained, “I have an interest, of course, but I’m too busy. And then I think, Oh my God, who wants to date me. I’m so complicated. People have a low perception of me, men especially. They think, this woman, she’s a nightmare.” To top off the tension, Donatella was in the throes of a cocaine addiction. Partially as an antidote to her anxiety, Donatella indulged in expenditures such as a $2 million diamond ring which she charged to the business. Despite her exacting attention to her appearance, Donatella landed on Blackwell’s worst dressed list, along with Anna Nicole Smith and Princess Anne. Of the diminutive diva he wrote that she “resembles a flash-fried Venus, stuck in a Miami strip mall. Time to toss the peroxide once and for all.”

 

Under these Atlas burdens, Donatella was apprehensive of taking the reins of Versace. She knew the eyes of the world would look with cynicism on the kid sister daring to follow in her genius brother’s footsteps. Her plea, “Gianni is irreplaceable. I would like to be judged for what I am doing, not compared to him. If you compare me to him, I can only fall short.” Her responsibilities entailed designing a male and female clothing for the brands Versace, Versace Atelier, Versace Collection, and Versace jean couture. In addition, she was also in charge of perfume, watches, eyeglasses, shoes, purses, and scarves. Fear of failure led to debilitating doubt. She expressed her crippling anxiety, “I realized that all the eyes of the world were on top of me, and really, people didn’t believe I was going to pull through. All these people depending on me, their jobs on my shoulders, to live up to Gianni’s dream. I’m going to F*** up everything Gianni did?” Her worst fears were actualized: Versace posted losses of $7.1 million in 2002.

 

Two years later, at a gathering at Via Gesù for Allegra’s eighteenth birthday, Santo, Allegra, Daniel, and Elton John staged an intervention where they persuaded Donatella to enter rehab. Although filled with consternation the facility would not adhere to her diet of low-fat ingredients, her main concern was relinquishing her heels. On her private plane to the Arizona rehab, the Meadows, she sobbed.

 

Ultimately, Donatella proved she was the heir of the harsh landscape of her Cambrian roots, and like Stella, found her groove. She has proved those who doubted her wrong- including herself. Of finding her footing she stated, “I had been listening to everyone else, and then I realized, who was the person my brother listened to? Me.” In 2018, Michael Kors purchased Versace in a $2.1 billion dollar deal.

 

Metaphorically, (if one swaps out the platinum extensions for serpent strands), the designing woman is the legendary Gorgon who stunned people into submission, thereby making Donatella the modern Medusa.

 

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