Designer Federico Forquet (centre) on the balcony of his studio in Rome, shot in 1962 for the Italian magazine Amica Forever in Fashion Hailed in the 1960s as Italy’s answer to Christian Dior, Federico Forquet abruptly quit fashion for a quiet life in interior design. At 90, the master is finally ready to tell his story. By Christopher Bagley PHOTO COURTESY FEDERICO FORQUET I f you happen to be a glamorous Italian aristocrat, or if you grew up reading about the European jet set in the pages of Women’s Wear Daily and Vogue, then you probably know a thing or two about Federico Forquet. In the 1960s Forquet was one of Italy’s top couturiers, designing the chic palazzo pants and toga-inspired gowns that people like Marella Agnelli wore while lounging around their actual palazzos. But in 1972, at the age of 41, Forquet closed his business and retreated from the fashion world. He quietly began designing gardens and interiors for his friends, and over the years he became the ultimate insider’s connoisseur – a goodtaste guru whom the privileged few relied on to determine which Greek antiquities to pair with their favourite Mirós or Mondrians. Today, at 90, Forquet is still so discreet that there’s no Wikipedia page for him – but he’s very much alive and well, working on several decorating projects and a new porcelain department for Naples’ venerable Museo di Capodimonte. He’s also the subject of a sumptuous new book, The World of Federico Forquet: Italian Fashion, Interiors, Gardens (Rizzoli), for which writer-editor and American Vogue’s international editor at large Hamish Bowles took a deep dive into the designer’s remarkable archives. “Federico is kind of a mythical figure that other mythical tastemakers tend to idolise,” says Bowles, who hopes the book will lead a wider audience to appreciate the designer’s rarefied portfolio. On the phone from his house in rural Tuscany, Forquet is ebullient when recalling how his career began: with a nerve-racking introduction to Cristóbal Balenciaga. In 1954, a young Forquet showed up in Paris for a meeting with the famously aloof designer; he brought along more than 100 fashion sketches and watched as Balenciaga wordlessly flipped through them, setting aside only 12. “I was hoping those were the bad ones and that he liked all the others!” Forquet says. “But he told me, ‘These 12 are the only drawings where I can see your potential.’ ” Balenciaga nevertheless decided that he’d found a new protégé, so Forquet mustered the courage to inform his conservative family – a prominent Naples clan descended from a French banker – that he was moving to Paris to design dresses. He spent the next four years at Balenciaga’s side, learning “everything, everything”, he says. When Forquet finally opened his own haute-couture atelier in Rome, in 1962, the timing was perfect: his elegant tunics, asymmetrical capes and bold prints became favourites of not only European royals and international fashion editors (“The Italian Dior is named Forquet,” gushed Harper’s Bazaar) but also the Hollywood stars who were flocking to Italy to work at Cinecittà and dance on tables with Marcello Mastroianni. In his salons on Via Condotti, Forquet carried on the tradition of the old-school couturier, designing every piece and often doing the fittings himself. After dark he squired his favourite clients around Rome, playing BFF to people like Princess Alessandra Torlonia, Princess Ira von Fürstenberg and Allegra Caracciolo di Castagneto, his longtime muse. Friends of Forquet say that he exudes a genuine warmth and joyfulness that’s often lacking in his fancy social circles. “Listen, I like life,” Forquet tells me in his singsong Italian accent. “I like friends. I like the sun. I like the stars, the moon, animals, good wine. I am a happy person. And remember, when you love somebody or something, the affection comes back to you.” › CENTURION-MAGAZINE.COM 61
