Alessia wakes up reborn.

The sun is up and so is she, for some reason she has a feeling of invincibility.

She is quick to bathe herself and Esmeralda, before 10am they are already out of the house.

Alessia is headed wherever her feet seem to take her and on this particular day, they take her downtown, where the town center is already filled with the noise of a busy market.

Alessia feels the stroller twitch in her hands, Esmeralda is jumping with excitement at the sight of the livly market.

"3 euros!" A man shouts from behind his fruit stand.

Alessia makes sure to buy Esmeralda a fine slice of watermelon, which leaves her daughter slurping away complacently.

Alessia turns her head, changing the direction of the stroller as she does. She is looking for something, but she has a hard time remembering where it was. As she passes the town square's fountain, between a souvenir shop and a dry cleaners she finds it, the boutique she was looking for. She remembers the location from her first visit to Mugello, Valentino took her there to buy a dress, where the tailor was an elegant but grumpy man. The same short plump man, with his strapped suspenders, is seen looking over his glasses from where he stands behind his desk as Alessia enters the shop .

"Yes, how may I help you?"

Alessia doesn't want to be too forward with her intentions, so she points to some dresses pretending she is interested.

The tailor watches her every move as she takes a lap around the shop, only letting her go when customers enter, this time a couple, an older man and his younger wife.

"Fernado please tell my wife what you told me when I had my sweater made."

The tailor removes his glasses looking between the unhappy couple. He sighs. "No machine, just hand wash."

"What did I tell you." The man scolded his wife. The wife folds her arms like an angry child. "How else was I supposed to get the stain out." She cries.

"What did he just say." The man shouted, pointing to the tailor who was no longer engaged in the couple's silly bickering.

"No machine, just hand wash." The wife mumbles.

"Good, don't ever doubt me like this again."

"What kind of stain was it?"

It takes a minute for the couple to locate Alessia's voice, they both stare at her with raised eyebrows, in between them the tailor also pays attention.

"Excuse me?" The man says nonchalantly,

Alessia ignores him and turns her attention to the wife. "What kind of stain was it?"

The wife looks to her husband almost asking for permission to answer the question.

"Red wine" She said, almost whispering the words. Alessia nods understandingly, "And what fabric was the sweater."

"Cashmere." The husband and the tailor answer simultaneously.

"When you put the sweater in the machine did you just throw it in there, no specific preparations?"

The young woman fixes her posture and with a raised chin she spoke with more confidence this time. "Of course not, I mixed detergent and cold water which I rubbed on the stain, then after letting it rest for a couple of minutes I put the shirt in the machine, low heat."

Alessia felt like a lawyer presenting a case in front of the court. It was time to convince the judge. "How would you handle the cashmere sweater tailor?"

The tailor looks to Alessia with slight amusement. "I would have hand washed it."

Alessia's eyes narrowed, behind her the husband let out a mocking laughter.

"But if handwashing the sweater was out of the question, per say because you had an impatient husband awaiting to be served like a six year old, then how would you handle the stain?"

The husband's laughter fell silent and the young woman looked to the tailor with anticipation. The tailor only looks to Alessia who rocks the stroller back and forth for Esmeralda to remain patient.

"I suppose I would act likewise, seeing it was washed with low heat, not really damaging the quality fabric."

The young woman cheerfully claps her hands and like a schoolgirl she joyfully jumped up and down, her heels banging the wooden floors.

"Why does she know anyway." The husband groans bitterly.

"Oh please Matteo, don't grow sour now." The woman shuffles her husband out of the tailor's shop, giving Alessia a wink before disappearing out the door.

The tailor has already turned around and is now folding fabric. Alessia clears her throat to get the man's attention again.

"Sir?"

Slowly he turns around, a deep wrinkle now irritating the center of his forehead. His gaze falls to Esmeralda who lays restless in the stroller.

"She can't have that in here." He hiss.

He was referring to the half eaten watermelon Esmerlada was nibbling on. Watermelon roamed around Esmeraldas mouth as well as her shirt which now had a huge stain at the bottom of it.

"We'll be out of here in a sec, I just came here to ask if you were offering any positions at the moment?"

The tailor almost stumbled backwards as he broke out in laughter. "Positions, for you?"

Alessia's expression remains motionless.

"By that little performance you put on, I suggest you ask the dry cleaners next door , I'm sure they will find you useful."

Alessia exhales, "Sir please, I am very qualified for a job as an assistant, my mother is a designer and a seamstress herself, I used to tend her shop daily when I was younger."

The tailor removes his glasses examining Alessia thoroughly. "Younger?" He frowns.

Alessia admits that with giving birth to Esmeralda also came the illusion that she was older than she really is, for all she knew, people believed Esmeralda to be her younger sister.

"Younger(er)" She corrects.

"Miss, do you even know who I am?" The tailor said proud.

"No Sir, should I?"

It was clear that the tailor neither remembered Alessia from her last visit three years prior, which isn't as much of a surprise, but considering that Valentino had made quite an impression on the man, the tailor being a fan of MotoGP, she thought that remembering her could have been a possibility. However Alessia would be pleased, not having to mention Valentino or MotoGP for the matter , although it was her last solution if the tailor remain persistent.

Alessia's words leaves the tailor clearly insulted. "Don't let this humble store fool you, I have others just like it in Florence, Milan and Rome."

"May I ask why you prefer tending only this one, Sir?"

Alessia's question leaves the man puzzled.

"Commercial clothing!" He then sighs.

"Commercial clothing?" Alessia repeats.

"Yes. There is no quality nor loyalty amongst Men and Women's choice of fashion."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean?" Alessia tries to disguise her excitement, she knew that she had the tailor on the hook, now she was railing him by making him talk about himself.

The tailor sighed, taking a seat behind his desk, he gestures for Alessia to do the same across from him.

"Did you know that my father had the same tailor all of his life, he never went to another and his father before him went to the same tailor, that being the father of my father's tailor."

Alessia nods understandingly although being slightly lost by the complex family tree.

"Nevertheless, there used to be loyalty in men and womens fashion. Where they got their shoes, or hair done. Nowadays everybody goes to whomever is most successful."

"Commercially!" The tailor makes sure to enunciate.

"A location in Florence. Milan and Rome, sound pretty successful to me." Alessia said, making sure to showcase a million dollar smile.

"It does indeed." The tailor exhales. "The exact reason why I've chosen to tend this store, the first location there ever was. That's how the loyalty remains, If customers want to buy my clothes in Rome, fine, so be it, however my loyal customers, the Madonnas' and the Campbells' will make the journey here, to this humble town, just to see me, to see Fernado." The tailor said, tapping his index finger on top of the desk.

Silence lingers for a minute, Esmerlada has fallen asleep in her stroller, smothered in watermelon.

"Except for your little..." The tailor gestures vividly with his hands. "...whatever it was that you were doing." He refers to earlier, when Alessia stepped in between the smug man and his timid wife. "...what do you have to offer, do you even know the profession."

"Being a tailor, no. However I was accepted to the most decorated fashion school in France. La Parisienne Fabric, School of Fashion and Design. If you've ever heard of it?" Alessia bats her lashes innocently.

"Oh I've heard of it, established after my time, I might add."

Alessia smiles, she has railed him in.

"City kids have always believed that an artform such as design can be mastered in a government funded building, with classrooms and libraries." The tailor Said mockingly. "Not true! I was taught the hard way, by watching how fabrics were made, traveling around the world."

Alessia found herself slowly falling into slumber, it was time to rap it up.

"So you'll give me a chance?" She smiles once again showing off all of her teeth.

The tailor chuckles, "Your so called "acceptance" doesn't make you qualified to do anything, especially not work with me."

Alessia sighed before rising from her chair, "I understand Sir, thank you for your time." She stretches out her arm for him to greet, fully aware of his surprised expression. The tailor stood, Alessia's sudden lack of persistence had him leave her hand unshook. He had begun to take interest in her. However Alessia had grown tired and If the tailor wasn't to make up his mind today she could always come back tomorrow, or the day after that, or even visit the dry cleaners next door, just like he had suggested she should do.

They shake hands, but before letting go the tailor utters: "comeback tomorrow, I'll give you a trial week, then we'll talk."