Rolling into the head office of Brunello Cucinelli, at the base of the medieval hill-top village of Solomeo, deep in central Italy’s farm country, is like rolling into an exclusive country club. Solomeo is a company town like no other. The attached factory, where knitted cashmere sweaters and cardigans that sell for several thousand dollars apiece are made, is surrounded by gardens and lawns, towering cypress trees and long, pool-like fountains crossed by footbridges.
The airy interior of the vast, crème-coloured building is quiet, spotlessly clean – and calming. Billboard-sized photos of classic Renaissance Art, such as Michelangelo’s Pietà and David, hang from the ceiling. The 1,000 employees, mostly women with deft fingers, are well-dressed.
The canteen next to the factory, where employees spend 90 minutes for lunch, could be a high-end restaurant. Waiters in uniform serve healthy, four-course meals on proper white china plates. Bottles of Cucinelli-branded virgin olive oil and wine fill the tables.
“To me, it all seems like a university campus more than a factory,” says Carolina Cucinelli, 33, the company’s vice-president (her older sister Camilla is the other vice-president). Overseeing the luxury empire is her father, Brunello Cucinelli, 70, who is executive chairman and creative director. He seems more like an enlightened feudal nobleman than a controlling shareholder of a public company in the hypercompetitive fashion industry.
He and his family essent.
