Giorgio Armani’s nightclub, in the basement of his Armani ‘multiplex’, trumps most clubs in Milan in terms of style. Entirely fitted with Armani Casa, tatamiesque floors and a neon-lit red and black Japanese style, it’s as if Nobu had been set in science fiction. Getting in can be troublesome, although reserving a table or saying that you’ll buy a bottle – in English – usually works (being international can be a passport in fashion venues). Bottles arrive on fabulous black lacquer trays: essentially mobile mini-bars with umpteen mixers and exotic fruits on ice. Commercial dancey pop soon draws you off your table to shake your money-maker alongside style slaves and smooth Tom-Ford-alikes. Be sure to do final checks in the hall of mirrors en route to the dance floor because once you’re there, smile – you’re on camera. There’s a huge screen (the sort that normally shows catwalk footage) that beams your own cringeful image on the dance floor back into the bar – everyone’s a star in Armani Prive.