Giorgio Armani Runway Show Is an Extravaganza of Extremes Fifteen years ago, Giorgio Armani brought a fashion show to New York City with a set and dinner so dazzling that fashion people with long memories still talk about it giddily. And that only happened after the police in Paris, where he had originally planned to show his Emporio Armani collection that year, shut down his production (with a reported cost of $1 million, two black tents and 1,200 guests waiting outside) at the last moment, citing security concerns. Mr. Armani retaliated by bringing the whole shebang to Wall Street, barely flinching at the expense. The number going around on Thursday night at Mr. Armani's runway show on the SuperPier on the Hudson River - now, don't choke, it was really more of a fashion extravaganza - was $8 million. And that was a conservative guess at best. New Yorkers who had never before seen an Armani production (his last show in the city was in 2004) probably had no idea what they were in for when Giorgio came to town. It was such a big deal that Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg declared Thursday to be "Giorgio Armani Day." The event was called "One Night Only," a title the designer has previously used for over-the-top productions in cities around the world that showcase both his most recent Giorgio Armani Privé collections and a retrospective of his couture. They have also been shown in Rome, London, Beijing and Tokyo. And for this one night, Mr. Armani went to town, having overseen the construction of a nearly 100,000-square-foot set on the pier that included a museum-style installation of some of his most fanciful creations, an enormous runway and a nightclub. To give you some idea of the scale of this thing, it took 240 steps (each one on fine carpeting in a luscious shade of cream or black) to walk from the entrance of the pier to the end of the runway. If it sounds exhausting, there was plenty of Champagne along the way to get you there. So the night started at 7 p.m., with hundreds of important people pouring into the pier as celebrities, including Ricky Martin, Glenn Close and Renée Zellweger, were pulled aside into the first of at least three roped-off areas to have their pictures taken. Some people explored the exhibition, called "Eccentrico," which included some particularly outlandish looks, namely an angular reflective silver dress made for Lady Gaga that resembled a Christmas ornament. Others made their way down the long cream-carpeted hallway into the runway show, where Anna Wintour could be found sitting next to Oscar de la Renta and was complimented on her white lace blouse. "It's by a little known American designer you've probably never heard of," she said, pointing to Mr. de la Renta, who said he had accepted a competitor's invitation without hesitation. The show began at 8:40 p.m. It was not a normal show. The seats were comfortable and spacious, which was very fortunate because Mr. Armani went on to show more than 150 outfits for over 48 minutes (an eternity in runway land), and air-conditioning vents exhaled constant blasts of cool air over the guests to keep even the more jaded Armani fans awake. The retrospective part of the show was nearly blinding in its excess, like gorging on a rich tasting menu with three courses to come, from the opening look on Liya Kebede through the multiple sections with French titles including "lumiere de la nuit," "éclats de pierres," "lune" and "hommage au Japan," and right on through the appearance of a crazy, poofy green and black dress that, as it just so happens, Tina Turner ordered to wear as a bridal gown for her wedding to Erwin Bach in July. Mr. Armani's celebrity connections are that deep. As the show concluded, and the guests mingled on their way into the "dinatoire" portion of the evening (a fancy, European way of saying that food will be passed around on little plates), it began to look like a Vanity Fair party, where everyone is famous. How amazing was that? Douglas Booth, the latest big-screen Romeo, asked Natalie Dormer, a former little-screen Anne Boleyn. "Kind of stunning, eh?" she replied. Peter Facinelli and Jaimie Alexander navigated their way into a receiving line to greet Mr. Armani, and Mr. Facinelli said, despite the length of the show, "I didn't want it to end." Ms. Alexander, in a sparkling black jacket, said, "It was mesmerizing." The nightclub that was built on the pier looked like something out of a movie. Jeremy Irons sat on a white minimalist couch, as Leonardo DiCaprio, still with his slicked-back Django hair, was embraced by Naomi Watts, while "My Lovin"" by En Vogue blared, and then Mark Ronson, the D.J., melded Jay Z and Kanye West with Duran Duran and Bruno Mars. Waiters circled with endless little plates of food, bites of seared tuna, spoonfuls of risotto with shaved truffles, glistening bits of ravioli and shreds of veal cheeks napping on beds of polenta. The moment one tray was emptied another appeared, and the guests juggled these with their drinks. And then suddenly a dozen security people, all of them in black, poured into the room like a school of chic fish, with Mr. Armani swimming in their midst, making his way to sit with the celebrities, as if anyone in this crowd had room for one more bite of excess.