The Italian

Now, it just has to happen.

I’m still designing pyjamas. It’s still a great job with a great company, but my life in Sydney is still batshit boring. I’ve bought an apartment and pottered along for a while, even been on a few dates, but I’m itching. I don’t know how I find out what makes me happy but I do know that designing pyjamas and living alone isn’t it.

My finger hovers over the email. Okay, just do this. I inhale deeply and hit open.

My eyes skim the letter until I get to the line I’m dreading.

Unfortunately, you have been unsuccessful in your application.

I slump back into my chair.

What?

For fuck’s sake. I drag my hands down my face and go back to read it from the beginning.

Dear Olivia

Thank you for your recent application with Valentino.

Your experience and creativity are very impressive, and you were shortlisted for the position of junior designer in the New York division. However, the applicant you were up against had extensive experience and came from a similar established role. It is because of this that we feel that he is better suited to this particular position. We regret to inform you that you have been unsuccessful in your application.

I sit back, dejected and, quite frankly, pissed off.

Great. I read on.

However, we have found something else that we feel you would be perfect for.

The position is to be a fabric consultant to the designers, and it is based in Milan.

Your key role will be to source and negotiate the production of the desired fabrics for our upcoming ranges. You will be required to relocate to Milan in Italy, and extensive travel will be required to fulfill your role.

My eyes bulge. What the hell?

If this sounds like something you would be interested in, please contact me and we can discuss the specifics further. The position is available from the 28th May. Valentino will cover moving costs, and your first six weeks of accommodation will be supplied until you get settled in Italy.

I look forward to speaking with you with regards to this role, and I hope that we can welcome you into the Valentino family.

Have a nice day.

Giorgio Bianci

Valentino, Milan.

“Oh my God.” I bite my bottom lip as a goofy smile crosses my face. Picking the fabrics for upcoming ranges? It’s a dream come true.

Holy shit.

I get a vision of myself being all professional and traveling the world looking for fabric. It could be the opportunity of a lifetime. My mind goes to the last time I was in Italy, and that stupid bastard the Italian Stallion, Rici Ferrara. It’s been a while since I thought about him and his fuckable package.

Asshole.

I can’t think of him without getting angry.

Rome is six hours away from where I’m going. If I don’t go to Rome, I can’t see him. Problem solved.

Excitement begins to sink into my bones.

Italy.