4
If someone chooses to go to fashion school, one thing they can be sure of is internships. Lots and lots of internships. And more often than not, the quality of those internships is luck of the draw. Sometimes you work with companies where you’re treated as a collaborative team member, and other times you end up in places where you’re nothing more than free labor. I’ve experienced both.
Happily, my most recent internship fell on the collaborative side of the coin with a high-end ready-to-wear and lingerie company in SoHo. My time there was invigorating. I’m talking rom-com movie, dream job transformative. It was a female-run company, from the head designer to the CEO and the founder, who, in my opinion, is a genius. Her vision was/is so original and strong that anyone who meets her is completely on board with her ideas and goals. If team uniforms were required, I’d still be wearing mine, along with a foam finger. I wouldn’t rule out a foghorn.
So as Marco, Holly and I walked into the Gia Luca Design headquarters this morning, I couldn’t help but wonder how things were going to play out—what our lot in this one-month life would be. The managing director, Lorenzo, has just called us into his office where we’re now sitting, all three of us squeezed onto a dainty settee across from him that’s probably intended for no more than two. The slightest false move will send one of us launching through the ceiling.
Lorenzo seems to be in his early forties. His dark hair is pulled up in a man-bun and his scant facial hair looks roguish rather than contrived. His overall style is a cool take on business casual. He’s wearing crisp navy pants with a matching vest, and his white button-down shirt is open just enough to allow a peek at his indecipherable chest tattoo. His waist is highlighted with a brown leather belt and though I can’t see his shoes from behind the desk, my money’s on a suede loafer.
We’re all eager to make a good impression. There are five judges in our contest—four back in New York, and Lorenzo being the fifth. Before we leave Rome, we’ll present our collection design sketches to him, and he’ll cast his vote early based on those presentations and our work at the internship. Impressing him is paramount and we’re very cognizant of that fact.
“Benvenuto,”he says with a smile. “Before you begin today, I wanted to personally welcome you. We’re very happy to have you at Gia Luca, and we look forward to working with you in the coming weeks.”
“Thank you,” we all reply in unison, which then leads to the three of us forcing out a laugh. We sound like a set of socially awkward triplets and not in an endearing way.
“Yeah, we spend a lot of time together,” Marco adds to the now painfully quiet room.
“I can see that,” Lorenzo answers with an amused grin. “So before I distribute you three into different departments for the day, why don’t each of you tell me about your specializations?”
Marco is the first to jump in, telling Lorenzo how his designs tend to be more editorial and avant-garde. Some of his pieces are true wearable sculptures and I deeply admire his work. Holly goes on to talk about her love of ready-to-wear, which encompasses a huge umbrella of categories—denim, women’s, men’s, sportswear, athleisure, swimwear and so on. When it’s my turn, Lorenzo looks me right in the eyes.
“And you?” he asks.
I sit up a little straighter. “I’d say my main areas of interest are evening wear and lingerie. At my last internship I assisted a lot in fabrication development and pattern making. I was responsible for approving fit sample submissions and overseeing fit sessions, and I’d also assist in product specs and grading development.”
“Impressive,” Lorenzo says. “But I’m also getting the impression that you’re reciting your résumé to me right now.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, my voice tinged with excited anxiety. “I’m nervous and I ramble when I’m nervous. It’s a self-comfort thing. I’ll try to work on it.”
It’s really great how professional I sound. I can just tell it’s going to take me far in life.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” Lorenzo replies, sounding more relatable than I expected him to be. He goes on, “Now, moving forward, you’ll be rotating departments almost daily, but for today, Holly, I’ll be sending you upstairs to the atelier to assist our pattern makers. Marco, you can head over to our marketing and social media teams. And Violetta, you’ll be a floater, filling in wherever you’re needed. I’ll let the office know that you’re available.”
For a quick second I think about telling him that everyone calls me Violet, but for some reason, I stop myself. At home, Violetta sounds beautiful but inherently formal. It’s personal. Even a little fanciful. It never seems to fit during the daily grind of school and work and finishing assignments in the early hours of the morning. That’s Violet’s life. But here in Italy, maybe Icanbe Violetta.
At least for a little while.
Before I can muse on the topic further, Lorenzo flips through a small stack of papers on his desk until he pulls out a thin sheet, looking it over and handing it to me. “The first thing you can do is pick up this order from Louisa Tessuti. It’s a fabric store a few blocks away.”
“Of course,” I answer, glancing down at the paper before holding it securely in my lap.
“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Well, welcome again, everyone. I’m looking forward to your time with us.”
We take the hint and after thanking him once more, we step out of his glassed-in office, leaving Lorenzo alone at his desk.
Now in the studio’s communal space, Marco slings a make-believe scarf over his shoulder. “Well, then, ladies, I’m off to marketing and social, no doubt where I will be asked to be the new face of Gia Luca. I wish you both a wonderful day.” He spins on his heel and heads for the middle of the office, and Holly and I turn to face each other.
“To have his confidence for just one day,” she says.
I give her a friendly smile. “I’m sure you’ll get there. Hopefully, we all will.”
She grants me a small grin in return and heads off to the elevators to find the atelier. I take a second to enjoy our moment of comradery before I once again look down at the order slip Lorenzo gave me. Reading it over more thoroughly, I memorize the address and fleetingly glance around the room before I stride toward the exit.
A minute later I step out of the Gia Luca headquarters and onto the streets of the world renowned “fashion triangle,” or what’s also known as thetridente. From the Piazza del Popolo to Piazza Venezia to Piazza di Spagna, everything a fashion lover could want is within arm’s reach—luxury designer flagship stores, midbudget boutiques, fabric stores, leather boutiques and plenty of cafés. Caffeine, of course, being necessary for continued stamina.
As I move down the street, it’s crowded, but not overly so. The area is lively without being overwhelming. A few blocks later I’m exercising maximum restraint by not hurling my body at a Max Mara’s window display like a flying squirrel when I thankfully spot my destination—Louisa Tessuti.
The exterior of the building is quintessential old-world Roman charm. The tan, oversized stones are tattered but beautiful and the large glass storefront seems so fragile, I’d be nervous to even touch it. Grasping the brass doorknob, I open the thick wooden door and carefully shut it behind me. The sounds of the street fall away as a veil of quiet seems to fall over the surrounding space. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.
