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For a little on-the-job training, Cerruti sent Armani off to spend a month in a factory, where, Armani recalls, "I fell in love with textiles and began to understand the work behind each yard of fabric. That's why today, when I see anyone throwing away a sample of cloth, it's like cutting off my hand." He stayed with Cerruti and nourished until 1970; then, buttressed by Galeotti's perfervid reassurances, he decided to make his move as an independent designer.
At first, he called himself a consultant and hired out his designing skills to such manufacturers as Ungaro, Zegna and Sicons. Armani kept busy at the drawing board, while Galeotti took care of business. By mid-decade, Armani had begun to attract local attention and a bit of international interest. Fred Pressman of Barney's recalls working with Armani in "an office no bigger than 14 by 14," crowded with one huge table and a few cane chairs used for everything from long business conferences to quick lunches. Bergdorf's Mello remembers "buying a collection of Armani's under a bare light bulb in a tiny hotel room. We could hardly see the colors, so he took the lamp shade off." In 1975, when the Giorgio Armani Co. was founded, it had a working capital of $10,000 and one receptionist, a student whom, Galeotti recalls, "we could pay so little we had to let her study on the job."
The receptionist remains—now promoted to the sales department—but the capital has grown apace with the headquarters, today located on the first floor of a 17th century palazzo in the heart of Milan. Frescoes cover the walls and ceiling of Armani's office, from which mythological characters gaze impassively at the modern furniture (including a couple of nifty long draftsman's desks designed by Armani), models, staff and assorted items of evolving wardrobe. Armani has positioned paneling and mirrors around the room so that the frescoes can claim his attention only from above. "In Florence, you would look up there," he says but adds, gesturing toward his paneling, "in Milan you look this way." The modernity of Milan seems to be in the very weave of his clothes. He speaks of the city in a way that might also describe his designs. "Milan is not apparently elegant," he says, "but you must seek it out. Its elegance is more subtle than other cities. You can find it in courtyards, in certain details, in the interiors of certain houses. True elegance is that which is most subtle and hidden."