You lived through a time full of cultural stimuli and major change. Who inspired your work? Were there figures who influenced your path?

We were like two sponges, ready to absorb everything coming from society, from what was happening around us. We learned so much because people liked us for our unpretentious attitude—a kind of naïve charm. Later on, of course, we evolved quite a bit from that! We learned everything, from how to arrange flowers on a table to how to carry ourselves.

Diana Vreeland was an extraordinary mentor. She called us “the Boys” and would come to Rome just to see our shows, through Consuelo Crespi—she was working for Vogue at the time. Rome in those years was home to incredible couture names: Patrick De Barentzen, Roberto Capucci, Simonetta Fabiani, the princess Galitzine—and Consuelo worked with them. It was through her that Valentino went to America for the first time. Her sister introduced us to Jackie Kennedy, who had seen her in a Valentino dress—a sort of brand-ambassador effect, before the term was coined. Every season, we went to New York to sell our collections, and we never let success go to our heads—that’s a lesson for young people: arrogance gets you nowhere. A few Instagram photos don’t make you a designer. We had the humility of people who wanted to learn.

Diana introduced us to the new American culture of that time—we went to see Hair with her, which was a radical and groundbreaking musical she loved. She adored that show! Through her, we met Babe Paley and Capote’s Swans, who became our clients. I met Truman Capote on Marella Agnelli’s yacht—they were very close—though we weren’t invited to the Black and White Ball. We weren’t important enough yet.

Babe Paley was the most beautiful and elegant woman we ever dressed—she was already ill, but still received us at her apartment on Fifth Avenue, where Picasso’s Boy Leading a Horse was hung in the entry hall. As you entered you were greeted by that monumental masterpiece. She welcomed us in a turban and brown charmeuse pajama set. It was pure style, with capital S. Women like Nan Kempner, Gloria Guinness—a world that no longer exists. We’ve always been lovers of beauty, style, and glamour—we both cared deeply about having an elegant house, even when we were very young with no much money. So when we had to decorate our flats, we went to Via dei Coronari in Rome, where antiques were sold at cheap prices, and asked a local carpenter to furnish our apartments—for us, he was like Peter Marino. Once, I don’t remember if it was at my place or his, as we’ve always lived in separate apartments, the wife of Henry Fonda, Countess Afdera Franchetti, came to visit— very charming—and as I was walking her to the elevator, she chirped, “Delightful, all this bric-à-brac.” Valentino and I looked at each other, dismayed.