In the land before zero hours contracts, in an age prior to frozen pay packets and board members that never learnt to share as children, billionaires weren't all that bad. No, really. They weren't chinless sociopaths who had the money for new chins. They didn't weep on American TV when presidential candidates made the audacious request that they pay a little bit more tax. They didn't wear divorcee biker jackets either. They were cool, or more so than today's elite anyway.
OK, so they were bad in another way given the premise of House of Gucci, Ridley Scott's upcoming biopic which retells the assassination of former fashion magnate Maurizio Gucci at the hands of his ex-wife (played by Adam Driver and Lady Gaga respectively). But other than the sad, sorry business of mariticide – which is well-depicted in the 2000 Sara Gay Forden book upon which House of Gucci is to be based – our first sneak peek confirmed suspicions that, yes, things looked a lot better in the British Airways First Class Lounge of days gone by.
In a post to Lady Gaga's Instagram, both Driver and the Chromatica star were pictured in full costume (and, presumably, happier times) above a simple caption reading 'Signore e Signora Gucci #HouseOfGucci'. And mamma mia! Signore e Signora Gucci were a power couple! We mean the sort that swill Chateau Margaux 1787 in steely silence on a Cannes balcony before travelling on separate Learjets to the house on Capri with its step down hot tub and an agoraphobic daughter who refuses to leave the penthouse – that specific sort of messed-up, magnificent, ludicrous wealth.
What's more, their very costumes nod to an era in which you wore your wealth rather than choosing to stow it away on the Cayman Islands. This was also before the Zuckerbergs and Spiegels made millionaire dressing a blandstand. Driver elects for aviator glasses, big enough to spot all the financial gaffes on the monthly report (Mr Gucci is alleged to have made many of these) but cool enough that they've enjoyed a revival on the back of the big Seventies redux. Below, a big chunky knit with a marshmallowy roll-neck and diamond white snow suit. Following past gigs in which boyfriends were murdered (2008's "Paparazzi" video, for one), Lady Gaga is a natural fit for Patrizia Reggiani – and a natural clothes horse for furry Russian hats and the sort of diamonds that only DJ Khaled seems to wear these days.
This stuff isn't so far from the Gucci of modern times; a Wes Anderson-at-a-Nirvana-concert melting pot in which big softcore director glasses and shipster knits reign almighty. Indeed, creative director Alessandro Michele has stirred the cauldron with a unique strain of fey, almost mythological campness that has seen Gucci soar to a level of cultural (and financial) significance not seen since Tom Ford helmed the storied Italian marque. Driver and Gaga slot right into his canon.
Because they're dressed like the fabled jet set that fashion aspires to, despite that very jet set not really existing anymore. And with the backdrop of some achingly exclusive skiing resort, it's proof that billionaires have never, and will never, be "just like you and I". They were dressed a lot cooler in the past, though – and they paid a lot more tax.
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