by Christos Zabounis

In 1993, mobile phones with cameras did not exist. Moreover, in certain circles and in certain places, it was still considered a social faux pas to ask to be photographed with celebrities. It was an August evening when Prince Michael of Greece invited us, together with his wife Marina Karella, to a grand residence he rented during the summer, before acquiring one of his own. The view from the veranda was breathtaking. To the west lay Ikaria, to the north Samos, and to the east, beyond Arki, the gaze could wander as far as Asia Minor. Since the 1960s, Patmos had been embraced by an avant-garde circle of primarily intellectual figures, with royalty and aristocracy lending the island their own distinctive tone. Remote and protected from mass tourism, it was an ideal destination for those who believe in the maxim “Silence is the beginning of purification.” When Valentino arrived that evening accompanied by Claudia Schiffer and Cindy Crawford – two top models who reigned supreme in the 1990s – no one in attendance attempted, as would surely happen today, to attach themselves to the moment, let alone capture the encounter with a camera. Different times, different manners. The purpose of this text, however, is not to praise a nostalgic code of behaviour, nor to criticise the narcissism of those who today post photographs of themselves with celebrities. The point lies elsewhere: in the magnetic pull of the Aegean Sea, which gave birth to one of the greatest civilisations in the world and continues to draw leading fashion designers, such as Valentino, as if by an invisible force. May his memory be eternal. It is no coincidence that so many women adored him – from Jackie Kennedy to Princess Marie-Chantal, and from Queen Máxima of the Netherlands to Anne Hathaway.

Photo Courtesy of Taschen