It’s a hot and humid Tuesday afternoon in Venice, and I’m watching the sun set over the Grand Canal through the Gothic windows of Diane von Furstenberg’s apartment, which sits on the first floor of a breathtakingly opulent palazzo. The splendor is a little overwhelming: The walls are lavished with elaborate stucco work and Baroque frescoes, while the ceilings sag with enormous Murano glass chandeliers. Every room is scattered with priceless furniture by the likes of Pierre Paulin and Frank Gehry, and peering through one doorway I even spot a set of Warhol silkscreens of von Furstenberg herself on the wall.
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