VIII: The Gucci Cruise

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May 2019

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May 2019

"You look—" Alessandro blinked multiple times as he shook his head in awe. "Magnifico!"

His hands landed on Harry's shoulders with a firm clap before stepping back and continuing to take in his work.

The simple white suit fit Harry perfectly, pinned and tucked in all the right places, ready to be tailored one last time before the Gucci Cruise Show the following evening.

"You're truly an artist, my friend," Harry grinned at Alessandro as he pushed back his shoulders and gave his arms a shake to settle his upper body in the suit jacket.

Waving his hand in the air nonchalantly, Alessandro brushed off his compliment. "Coming from you that's very kind."

Harry had only been in Rome for an hour before he was whisked from his hotel to a top secret location for his final fitting. When Alessandro extended the invitation, Harry was thrilled to attend, knowing he would be able to sit back and enjoy seeing the fruits of his dear friend's labor. And when the idea was brought up to fly his idol and friend Stevie Nicks in to sing a quick couple of songs at the after party, Harry was more than willing to join her on stage.

But it wasn't only the fact that he got to celebrate Gucci's phenomenal fall line and see the remarkable work Alessandro was doing in the fashion world. Italy was quickly becoming a second home to Harry. Every time he visited, whether for work or for play, he couldn't wait until the next time he could return. There was something so special about the Italian culture and their welcoming nature. He felt like he could simply be himself whenever he stayed off the grid, dining and enjoying humble life with the locals.

"Naeem!" Alessandro sang the seamstresses' name that was gathering the pile of pins off the counter, "Go ahead and finish off Harry's hem and we'll call it a night."

Harry rotated to look at his white suit in the full length mirror propped up directly in front of him, while the seamstress returned to fiddle with the hem of his trousers one last time.

"Oh, Alessandro," the man stood from his knee and took a few steps to the counter lined with fabrics and supplies. "The Leto sisters should be here any minute to pick up these samples," he patted a stack of folded garments.

Harry's head whipped around so fast that his hand instinctively grasped his neck to aid the sudden whiplash.

"The— the who?" He stuttered, massaging his fingers into his muscles.

"Oh, you remember Gino Leto? We ran into him at Carbone in New York?" Alessandro explained nonchalantly as he jotted notes down on a piece of paper. "His daughters are letting me borrow their wonderful seamstress Naeem here for the show."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

"They just figured they'd grab these while we were both in Rome," Naeem turned back, speaking with one pin wedged in between his teeth and one in his hand. "They're extremely trustworthy, promise they won't tell a soul that you're here."

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