The buzz of mopeds fades as we pass between marble pillars. The children stop chattering. Incense fills the air. 'It smells like church,' whispers Felix, 10. He's right. Only we're not in the house of God but the hushed emporium of another big G. Giorgio Armani, that is, and his flagship store on Via Sant'Andrea, Milan's hub of high fashion.
Immaculate conceptions are everywhere - not just in the heavenly clothes captured in a cube of clear glass at the entrance. This is the universe of Armani and, like any self-respecting creator, he has left nothing to chance. The floor, a marble chequerboard of ivory and green; the walls, a tapestry of soft grey silk. Even the chairs, carpets, tables and lamps - all designed by you know who - leave me weak at the knees.
