Rome, February 17, 1971. A child of two worlds—a Roman father, a Dutch mother—raised between the Oratory of San Pietro and the Nazareno Linguistic High School. At 23, I chose heaven: almost thirty years as a flight attendant, between Meridiana, Air One, and Alitalia.
On October 16, 2020, fate stopped me: a sudden heart attack, a desperate rush to the hospital, a helicopter to Gemelli Hospital. I survived, and in that suspension between life and death, I understood that something had to change.
After twenty-seven years in flight, with the messy Alitalia ITA—two airlines passed off as different, with the second born of lies—it marked the end of that chapter.
From there, the opportunity to stop, reflect, and set out again toward what I’ve always loved deep down in my heart.
My body has changed: a beard, silver hair, piercings that reveal who I really am.
By chance, I found photos of myself at eighteen, taken by a photographer: they rekindled something I’d always had inside me: my passion for fashion.
Today I’m 55, and I carry them as an added value: a wealth of experience, awareness, and authenticity that is reflected on my face, in every wrinkle and every choice.
Because life is too short to be fake.
Rome, February 17, 1971. A child of two worlds—a Roman father, a Dutch mother—raised between the Oratory of San Pietro and the Nazareno Linguistic High School. At 23, I chose the skies: I worked for almost thirty years as a flight attendant, between Meridiana, Air One, and Alitalia.
On October 16, 2020, fate stopped me: a sudden heart attack, a desperate rush to the hospital, and a helicopter to Gemelli Hospital. I survived, and in that suspension between life and death, I understood that something had to change.
After twenty-seven years in flight, with the messy Alitalia ITA—two airlines passed off as different, with the second born of lies—it marked the end of that chapter.
From there, I had the opportunity to stop, reflect, and set out again toward what I’ve always loved deep down in my heart.
My body has changed: a beard, silver hair, and piercings that reveal who I really am.
By chance, I found photos of myself at eighteen, taken by a photographer. They rekindled something I’d always had inside me: my passion for fashion.
Today I’m 55, and I carry them as an added value a wealth of experience, awareness, and authenticity that is reflected on my face, in every wrinkle and every choice.
Because life is too short to be fake.