Set in the 1960s

The hallowed halls of the National Gallery’s conservation lab were usually a sanctuary of hush, broken only by the soft scrape of a brush or the quiet hum of an air purifier. Then Leonardo DeLuca arrived.

Leonardo, a filmmaker known for his kinetic, visually rich documentaries, stormed in like a misplaced hurricane. He was all booming pronouncements, wildly gesticulating hands, and the insistent whir of a camera, ‘just for a quick establishing shot, darling!’

You were hunched over a tailored suit that predated the invention of electricity by centuries, flinched. Not a dramatic flinch, more a subtle tightening of your shoulders, a thin, disapproving line to your mouth. This man was a walking affront to the delicate ecosystem of your tailored suits work. He talked too loudly, asked too many obvious questions, and kept trying to ‘reposition’ your light source without understanding that a priceless Tailored Suit store wasn’t a Hollywood set.

“Just hold it there, love,” Leonardo boomed, gesturing to a spot perilously close to a partially restored Flemish Suits. “Perfect light, really brings out the… uh… the texture of your intense focus!”