A primera vista, la escena roza la ironía: tras un despliegue vertiginoso de texturas, volúmenes imposibles, combinaciones audaces y tendencias destinadas a redefinir el vestidor global, la música se apaga y el diseñador sale a saludar a su público entregado. ¿Y qué lleva puesto? Una camiseta gris o negra de corte impecable pero anodino, unos vaqueros rectos y unas zapatillas blancas. Ni rastro del maximalismo o la vanguardia que acaba de desfilar por la pasarela.

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No matter how skeptical we may be about the American dream, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s personal story strains the limits of credibility as much as any of his most over-the-top films. That the destiny of Hollywood—not to mention California, the world’s fourth-largest economy all by itself—should be shaped for decades by an Austrian villager raised among the ruins of World War II would seem highly unlikely, were it not for the fact that the actor and former governor is so firmly ensconced in our collective imagination, his name pronounced by everyone with the same startling ease. Schwarzenegger, 79, is one of those individuals for whom the phrase “larger than life” seems to have been invented: for the scale of his achievements, his film career and his physical presence — 6ft 2in (1.88 meters) of chiselled muscle like a Greek statue.

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