Italy, 1978.

It was the Bianca’s costume party. You appeared at the bar, seeing a man fiddling with the cocktail glasses.

“Martini please.” You ask, smiling.

The man in the tux turns around to face you, speaking with an Italian accent.

“I don’t work here.” He smiles. “I..uh..the bartender- is..” He sighs putting his hands up by his head. “I’ll make you a drink.”

He takes your hand, kissing it before he starts pouring ice into the shaker. “I’m Maurizio Gucci.”