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The guests were styled to the hilt. But it was the models that really took my breath away. What an immaculate, bold, memorable collection worn by a beautifully curated group of ‘everyday people’ of different skin colours, shapes, sizes and ages. Jared Leto was one of them, but better still, so was Macaulay Culkin. Everyone looked like a someone. And every single look was as memorable as the last. Think classic Hollywood, film noir, Gifford’s Circus, a hint of Westworld, a drop of Club Tropicana and a touch of the Tenenbaums and you get the picture. It was a vision. 

Sienna Miller

All I thought as I watched model after model strut down the boulevard to a soundtrack of all my favourite Bjork songs was ‘more, more, more’. ‘Please can this never end,’ I prayed, as candy-look after candy-look glistened past me in the cold Los Angeles night. It was a fairytale. An unapologetic, immaculately crafted, maximal tale of fairies, cowboys, screen goddesses and sirens for a modern, diverse, multi-everything world. 

But it did end. And back we went to the Roosevelt Hotel for a tropical (in theme, not in temperature) after-party where Florence Welch et al danced the night away. 

I went home feeling like Cinderella. Sad to leave the sequins and the sparkles. Disappointed to come home to my rags (because when you’ve seen this much extra, everything else seems so plain).

Like so many cities, LA has been weird in Covid times. Shops have shut, streets have emptied, the homeless crisis is evident on every street corner, no matter what neighbourhood you live in. This show offered such welcome respite from that. It has reinstated my faith in the city of angels. It truly was a love parade. Thank you Alessandro Michele.

Models walking the Gucci Love Parade runway on Hollywood Boulevard

Amy Sussman / Getty Images

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