"Gucci, Gucci, La La, Gucci, Gucci, La La," sings maid Millie as we head off in our blacked-out Mercedes to the Gucci Party. I have to say I'm just as excited as Millie is. I mean I'm totally fed up of having to borrow Mummy's Gucci loafers. Hopefully by next spring, I will have my own perfectly scaled down mini versions!
Maid Millie thinks she looks like Posh Spice tonight in her little black Gucci dress and white Gucci shades. I quickly remind her that my dear godfather Tom Ford once confided some home truths to me about VB. "I really wish she wouldn't always wear my clothes," he lamented.
Tonight's soiree is held at the Gucci headquarters on the outskirts of Florence, a secret location for a very special event. Fruit juice cocktails are being served and an array of canapes are on offer. Anybody who is anybody is here, including dear Marie from Little Fashion Gallery with the most fashionably neat little bump (baby number two's arrival is imminent), and other luminaries in the world of children's fashion.
I have to congratulate Gucci on the debut collection: it is simply divine. I pre-order the sweet pin-stripe pleated dress in blue, the ballet pumps in pastel pink and the wonderful lavender leather bomber jacket.
Two hours later and I'm beginning to wane, but I can't find maid Millie anywhere. I grab my iphone and hastily make a call. "Where are you? The car is waiting and I want to go home NOW!" "Out the back," she snorts. I venture outside to find her commiserating and hugging a sobbing waiter. "Italy lost the footy babe, and I remember Gazza. It's so sad to see a grown man cry."
Photograph: One of the design team at Gucci
