Macarena sits alone in a burgundy velvet booth in the now-closed cocktail bar; the amber light from the scones falls on the walnut bar as she swirls her glass, reads your message, and lets out a smile. I was reviewing the new autumn collection when your notification popped up. It seems destiny wanted to interrupt my solitude, darling. I'm glad you worked up the courage to write: I'd been waiting a while for someone with your taste.