February 2, 1991.
Roman nights draped themselves in the elegance of Italian high society, where countless figures approached one another offering answers wrapped in hesitation and performance. As Billy observed, it all seemed strangely familiar to the United States—though here, undeniably, there was more style, and the men were raised with a different sense of refinement. It was merely a similarity that echoed through every Western nation, where appearances formed a strange tapestry woven from wealth, culture, ambition, and arrogance.
--It seems the festivals are about to begin. - Billy remarked, watching the lavish party slowly intensify. There was nothing unusual about witnessing the treatment and inequality hidden beneath such elegant social classes. Billy observed it all with a detached, almost indifferent air.
--Alright, give me a second. I need to discuss a few things with some friends. - Monica commented, approaching a model who looked like the embodiment of a Nordic fantasy, with metallic blue eyes shimmering against the darkness and blonde hair framing the pale skin of her slender body, so thin she seemed destined to become the standard of beauty for the coming decades.
The models' party bore an uncanny resemblance to clowns at a children's celebration. Billy picked up a glass of wine and quietly reflected while listening to two businessmen discussing the possible sale of the Gucci group, which for now remained nothing more than rumor among people who seemed forever lost beneath the glare of luxury. The entire scandal, and the way everything appeared destined to resolve itself, was deeply unrewarding for Italian society.
The only reason was that a French conglomerate was preparing to acquire it, alongside the Louis Vuitton group. It was a dazzling reminder of how these stories so often end badly. The struggle seemed endless. Back in 1995, Domenico De Sole and Tom Ford had transformed the company, driving sales into exponential growth, yet De Sole could do little against what was unfolding now because, with only five percent, Louis Vuitton had entered into a ruthless battle after purchasing twenty-five percent of the shares.
Domenico was reportedly offering his remaining shares, and rumors spread that a French group would soon arrive to buy the company outright in a campaign so grandiose it left everyone speechless. What now seemed impossible to ignore was that the war had no real ending, and perhaps Gucci would eventually be completely absorbed by the French empire led by Francois Pinault. That gave the shares a peculiar kind of importance, allowing the brands to grow to disproportionate scales. But for Billy, who understood the mechanics of branding far better than most, the answer was simple: true competition had to emerge from entirely different fronts, from sectors opposed to the expectations surrounding luxury fashion investments. Even so, he preferred a thousand times over to focus on industries equally profitable yet far less visible, such as Victoria's Secret. Although the company had already generated billions in revenue, to him it was little more than a fairy tale. He expected nothing from it beyond amusement.
Billy continued drinking his wine, now seated calmly beside a white tablecloth and a flower vase. The table was beautiful, the paintings were true representations of art itself, and countless ideas came to him—some clearer than others—revealing ways of living and the forms through which life itself ought to be shaped.
--So many worlds I still do not understand. - Billy whispered, now realizing that perhaps his future still belonged to the world of cinema, this time through the acquisition of film studios, although prices in the Italian capital were lethally expensive.
…
--Gloria, you look absolutely stunning. - Monica whispered to Gloria Bellicchi, one of the former Miss Italias and dearly beloved by the public. From every angle, her features appeared somewhat strong, yet they complemented a beauty that could only be described as glory itself—Italian glory.
--Monica, I never expected to see you in Italy. For quite some time now, the United States seems to have become your home, my dear. - Gloria whispered back, greeting her with two kisses. The world was small, and the way people lived within it always seemed dictated by public opinion.
--Honestly, I think it has. - Monica replied simply.
Now trapped between ambition and expectation, she felt she had finally entered the defining moment of her life. It had begun in her thirties, and now there were only countless things she desired—among them, a long and successful life.
--Hollywood screens have become so enormous that their influence grows stronger every single day. Everything there seems to completely surpass our cinema. Anna secretly told me she has been making plans to fully enter the American market, but I fear it's incredibly difficult. Beautiful women are everywhere, and beauty itself is merely the minimum requirement, alongside the language. - Gloria replied to her friend's unspoken thoughts.
And it was true. In only a few months, Monica was expected to participate in prestigious events across Europe, while simultaneously becoming involved in the organization and design behind the Miss competitions. It was obvious Gloria Bellicchi was testing the waters for television while also drawing closer to Billy. Secrets drifted through the air like trails of smoke.
--I think I could seriously consider it. - Monica commented.
The possibility of managing a line of commissions and becoming recognized as a mentor for beauty queens felt far more glamorous than remaining just another model. Her new work now carried an entirely different meaning. The world of modeling—the realm of the most beautiful women on Earth—was beginning to intertwine itself with Billy's decisions.
She continued whispering about different plans: networks of contacts, circles of friendships, and various organizers who moved with quiet elegance and purpose, opening doors into entirely new emotions. Every woman danced to her own rhythm. They were women worthy of admiration, gathered together with luminous clarity—their beautiful lips, their poise, everything about them embodied the highest form of beauty, desperate to be adored and perceived. Eva approached, listening closely to the proposal, as Monica's ideas ranged from fashion brands and participation in the Miss Universe pageants to connections with fashion academies, luxury labels, sponsorships, and countless hidden dealings within the industry, many of them quietly orchestrated by Billy.
--You have a deal. - Gloria finally said.
--I was hoping you'd say that. - Monica whispered. - We'll speak with Billy now. He proposed the idea to me some time ago. I think I'm finally beginning to understand where all of this comes from. -
And money moved everything, but Monica's promise offered relief to those girls who had only recently begun to understand that beauty did not last forever. Many of them were nearing thirty, while younger women steadily took their places. The collection was awaited with overwhelming anticipation, as though the entire world were preparing to fall silent before it.