A Fond Memory of Valentino – Rest in peace, Maestro.

The recent news of Valentino’s passing brought back a flood of memories working in Milan as a fashion model. I was in the Valentino group representing “America” in the 1990 World Cup Opening Ceremony. (Can you find me?)

It was one of my very first modeling jobs in Italy. When the agency gave me the assignment, they said “Get there on time and plan to stay all day.” I was 21 years old and understood very little – not the language, not the logistics, and certainly not the magnitude of what I’d stepped into.

Backstage wasn’t one “room” so much as a maze of corridors and holding areas tucked behind the entrance to the pitch. There were people everywhere—models for the fashion segment, plus performers and dancers for the main show all moving in different directions with that vibrant backstage urgency where nobody has time to explain anything. I had enough experience to know it’s best to “go with flow” and not stress out about what everybody is doing. I was soaking up the chaotic, creative atmosphere — All I could think was, “Wow, I’m in Italy!”

At some point, someone with a clipboard asked my name and then handed me a card with “America” scribbled on it and sent me to the back end of the corridor. In another area, there were rows and rows of clothing racks. I found a plastic garment bag with my name on it. Inside was a frilly Valentino dress, a pair of red knee-high boots, golden cuff-bracelets and a large red sombrero.

Before getting dressed, we were each given another card: a meal voucher for the cafeteria. A production assistant urged us forward—this would be the only and last chance to eat. The cafeteria was packed with impossibly thin girls piling their trays with pasta. At least I did. There is a misconception that models do not eat. The truth is, models do not eat in public, and certainly never in front of the agents or stylists! Here, it was all staff and none of the bosses were around.

It was time to get ready. The Valentino girls all had the same dress and boots, but there were variations—some girls with hats, others with feathers. At the end of every fashion show there is always a special outfit, usually a couture wedding dress. Valentino celebrated the “America” theme with a Statue of Liberty gown, a Valentino-red toga with an elaborate Lady Liberty tiara. Even backstage, before I knew what I was really part of, I could feel the theatrical elegance of it: symbolism, wit, and drama.

I was excited, but still oddly unaware of the scale. In the U.S., football—soccer—wasn’t that big, and I didn’t perceive its importance as Europeans naturally did. I thought I was walking in a show. I didn’t yet understand I was stepping into a global broadcast.

I soon realized this was no ordinary fashion show. We were part of the World Cup opening ceremony. Each continent had its own stylist: America—Valentino. Africa—Missoni. Asia—Mila Schön. Europe—Gianfranco Ferré.

Backstage we were dressed and ready to go. All lined up to get the final touches; a makeup artist passed with a blotting sponge, a hairdresser tucked a stray strand of hair into the hat, an assistant director passed by to remind us to stand tall, shoulders back. The booming voice of the announcer, the muffled cheers and the music echoed like far away thunder.

The event began with rock music—Gianna Nannini and Edoardo Bennato—then we walked a wide runway encircling the football pitch. The Valentino group was incredibly chic, but I remember watching the Africa–Missoni girls and feeling a flash of envy: they looked like they were having the time of their lives, dancing as if the runway belonged to them.

And then came the sensation I still recognize being on stage: that strange tunnel vision. The moment I step out, I don’t really see the crowd. It’s as if I’m inside a small, protective bubble—fully focused on what’s directly in front of me. Its most likely an instinctive self-defense mechanism, but it helps me charge ahead.

After the fashion presentation, the tone shifted again: a Teatro alla Scala performance conducted by Maestro Riccardo Muti.

All eyes were on Milan. And the choice felt deliberate—a Made in Italy fashion statement followed by classical music, elegance and culture instead of acrobatics and spectacle. It was as if the city were saying: This is Milano – Made in Italy is about fashion, elegance and culture.

I didn’t meet Valentino that day. But later, in Milan and Rome, I had other opportunities to meet and work with him. He could be distant, and at times temperamental—but you could always rely on his talent and professionalism to create something beautiful.

And now, with his passing, this memory returns with a different weight. Not just a backstage story from early in my career—but a small thread in the larger fabric he left behind.

Article by Celia Abernethy, MilanoStyle.com

Full Video of the ceremony – The Valentino group exist after about 6 minutes.