Who I am


My grandparents arrived in Rome more than 80 years ago.
My memories are as precious as embroidered fabrics: I carry bags with the porter and accompany customers to their room and the only English I know is ‘I do not know’. I was 8 years old. The old switchboard with plugs; the San Giuseppe cream puffs (traditional pastries prepared for Father’s Day in Italy on 19th March) made by the chef in the kitchen and eaten before lunch; Christmas day with my cousins at our grandparents’ hotel; family Sunday lunches hidden under the table of the hotel restaurant (how I hated those endless lunches).

Today things have changed.
You cannot enter the kitchen anymore (unless you have complied with sanitary regulations), but my feeling for hotels remains, in fact, it has been broadened to all that is entertainment, hospitality, art, health, and travel.