My story begins in Prato, on June 21, 1969, under the sun of the first day of summer. Perhaps it was already written that light, colors, and beauty would guide my path. As a child, I didn't play with dolls: I dressed them with newspaper and string. My afternoons after school were spent in the family hardware store, among screws and hammers. But what I loved most were corks. I still remember that afternoon when, armed with tape and infinite patience, I wrapped 600 of them, one by one. My parents, intrigued by my silence, watched me in amazement: it wasn't a game, it was an uncontrollable need to give shape to ideas. Creativity wasn't a pastime: it was my first language. This visceral love for materials and design led me to the Porta Romana Art Institute in Florence, where I graduated in Furniture and Design. Within those historic walls, among plaster casts and sketches, I learned to Translating emotions into projects. Giving structure to what was once just instinct. Yet, life sometimes takes you far from your path. After my studies, I worked in offices, I did other jobs... but that little voice never stopped whispering to me: “There's more. There's a path that belongs to you.” That path was closer than I thought. It was made of weddings, love stories, spaces to transform into memories. And everything fell into place again.”
“Then my day came, the day every girl dreams of since she was little. I was Serena the wedding planner, Serena the designer: I thought I had everything under control. I chose a dream location, flowers that seemed to have come out of a painting, impeccable tables. My wedding was aesthetically perfect. The guests were ecstatic. Someone whispered, 'It looks like a fairytale.' But whose fairytale? When, after some time, I looked back at the photos, I felt a strange emptiness. Where were Serena and Simone in all that splendor? Where was that couple who eats breakfast in their pajamas on Sunday mornings, who prefers mountain hikes to the luxury of living rooms, who is more moved by a dip in the blue than by a Swarovski crystal? Where was I, with my passion for motorcycles and the wind in my hair? Our essence as sports, mountain, and adventure enthusiasts... wasn't there. The suppliers—excellent, professional—had listened to my requests, but they hadn't listened to us. They had created a wedding Beautiful, but not our wedding. That realization was a punch in the gut. But in that disillusionment was born the greatest certainty of my professional life: a true marriage is not one that amazes, but one that tells a story.”