March 12, 2013 |
Eliana Maria Piva de Albuquerque Tranchesi was every bit as impressive as her name and reputation, both of which were not only renowned in Brazil but across the whole fashion world. In her heyday, her voluptuous curves and cascading blonde hair, as well as the clothes (frequently including fur), which she wore with such panache, made her an immediately recognisable high-fashion figure at the shows of the great designers in Paris and Milan, where she was always shown the respect given to only a very few fashion retailers.
Like Joan Burstein of Browns, Eliana was admired not only for her discerning taste but also the courage with which she followed it through. She was, in short, a fashion power.
Daslu, the São Paulo store she inherited from her mother and made into something more like an exotic way of life than a mundane fashion retail destination, stood out as the personal fiefdom of a woman of total certainty of taste and an intimate knowledge of the social lives of her customers. At show time, Eliana resembled an exotic tropical fish surrounded by shoals of buyers from other world-famous stores who were nothing more than minnows compared with her magnificence.
Eliana was a powerfully commanding presence, even in Brazil, which is the home of powerful women. I was lucky enough to know her rather well and to enjoy time with her not only in the watering holes of the great fashion capitals but also in her own country, and especially in her film-star home (complete with glamorous guards dressed in black suits and sunglasses on the gate who, I am sure, were always armed). I spent enough time with Eliana to know that it is not just for her business acumen that she should always be remembered but for her completeness as a person and her generosity as a friend.
We first met at Dior Haute Couture in Paris (she loved John Galliano’s aesthetic) and I remember being very surprised when, during our conversation, she mentioned one of my pieces in The Sunday Times. This was long before a newspaper could be conjured in seconds on a screen, but in the days when the entire, heavy Sunday Times, with all its supplements, was available in São Paulo three days after publication – at a cost not short of £10, if I recall. I had not heard of Daslu, but I knew as we talked that this lady who owned it was very special. And she was. She invited me to go to Brazil and I accepted – probably with indecent haste. It was for the grand opening of Daslu in its new and hugely increased premises. But more of that later.
Born into a comfortably wealthy middle-class family in 1955, Eliana learned much from her mother, Lucia Piva de Albuquerque Tranchesi, another strong Brazilian woman. In fact, it was not just their strengths that made mother and daughter so exceptional, it was their business acumen, taste and total understanding of their friends’ and acquaintances’ tastes and needs.
Lucia was a socialite who travelled internationally, was familiar with sophisticated fashion cities across the globe and always bought clothes from the best shops she could find. It was a logical step that her friends who did not travel were excited by the luxury goods she returned home with. Even more logical – and we are talking of a businesswoman here – was the next step, whereby Lucia began to buy clothes with certain friends in mind and then started taking shopping lists from them. She had become South America’s first accidental fashion entrepreneur.
The next step, in 1958, was to buy a couple of small houses in a “good” part of São Paulo, where she lived, and convert them into an exclusive shop for her friends to visit. It wasn’t quite By Invitation Only, but shopping there was still very much a pleasure and privilege for people known to Lucia. The atmosphere was informal but gracious – exactly as Lucia’s tea parties in her home had been when she used to return from her travels and show her friends what she had bought for them.
It was out of these roots that Eliana was to grow one of the world’s most impressive retail outlets. She began modestly but in exactly the spirit of her mother. She knew that, for rich women – actually, for us all – the whole process of shopping must be made as much of a pleasure as the buying itself. So, she created a kind of club. Buying up the houses in a quiet residential street that was part of the area of São Paulo where rich people live and relax, she very soon had the whole street – either side as a series of exquisite boutiques devoted to women and their fashion needs.
And I do mean devoted. Firstly, there were the sales assistants, who with their long legs, Swiss finishing school airs and blonde hair, were surely the most glamorous salesgirls in the world. Then there were the staff in their black and white maid’s outfits who served the coffee and proffered the tiny cakes and perfect finger sandwiches, picked up the discarded clothes and pampered the customers as much as they required. They were women from the favelas, and Daslu paid for their young children to go to school and receive medical treatment as it was needed.
What makes São Paulo an exciting city for many is that there is always a sense that violence and personal danger can flair up at any time. But not at Daslu. In addition to all the drivers of the black limos waiting to take the shoppers home were the armed guards at each end of the street. Nobody was ever kidnapped or robbed while arriving or leaving, and certainly not when inside the shop itself. And the final, very Brazilian refinement in this carefully considered shopping experience was that men were banned from all areas of the shop, except the separate till area, where they were allowed in to pay the bill.
Otherwise, the shop was – as Eliana explained to me – exactly like a woman’s boudoir when her friends come around for a girlie afternoon of trying on clothes, playing music, swapping make-up and drinking coffee. Most of the customers walked around in their underwear, constantly changing clothes, followed by maids taking away discards and bringing more. Many of the women ignored the robes provided and walked around in their underwear, the place felt so like home. As Eliana said, “We are all friends. We have known each other since our school days.”
The concept was so successful that Eliana decided to expand. She bought a large plot where she would be able to create her own special Daslu – and it was to its opening in 2005 that I went, along with my editor of the time, Jeremy Langmead. Our eyes were like saucers for the entire week. Firstly, the hotel was the Fasano, which Jeremy – who cared about such things rather more than I – assured me was the coolest address in South America. It was certainly very elegant and understated.
When fashion journalists – in those days, the most spoiled of all adults – go on a business trip, it is a given that there will be chauffeur-driven limos and, of course, there were in São Paulo. But Daslu went that stage further and provided us with a helicopter – our own helicopter with a very handsome pilot. We were thrilled but embarrassed, as we couldn’t think of places to go!
The opening ceremony was very grand. “Everyone” was there, and many had flown in by private jet and helicopter. Rumour had it that these customers alone each spent between US$40,000 and US$100,000 in two days – and I can well believe it. The opening ceremony was performed by the mayor of São Paulo; the cavalcade of limos bearing the rich and grand was longer than that seen at the Oscars and moved even more slowly; and every luxury label one could want was there. The feeling was more five-star deluxe international hotel than department store – at that time, a totally unique concept.
But Eliana did not stop there. Before long there was a Daslu fashion line that was always unveiled in Paris, where Eliana took a suite in the Plaza Athénée each fashion week and sold… and sold… and sold. It wasn’t just the setting, with young Brazilian fashionista salesgirls with fabulous tans and perfect figures, it was also that Eliana knew precisely what sophisticated elegant women of the world wanted to wear. And how could she not? She was that woman herself. Eliana Tranchesi was on top of the world.
And then the bubble burst. Rumours began to spread that suggested that all was not right on the business side of Daslu. Questions began to be asked. Tax was mentioned in whispers. Then, quite suddenly it seemed, only a month after the grand opening, 400 federal tax agents raided the store and the company offices, Eliana was arrested in her home and Daslu was sequestered. Eliana and her brother were facing accusations of massive irregularities regarding tax declarations on foreign goods. They were fined US$112m and, in 2009, they were sentenced to 94 years and six months imprisonment for smuggling, organised crime and tax evasion, although Eliana never actually went to prison.
Eliana Piva De Alburquerque Tranchesi died of lung cancer on February 24 this year. She was 56. I consider myself privileged to have known her and to have enjoyed both her unrivalled company and hospitality but, above all, the warmth and charm of her personality.
Text Colin McDowell
