Behind the counter of the Old Fashion Cafe, in the SoHo neighborhood, lies the story of a family that brought its idea of hospitality from Puglia to New York. Antonello Iacca grew up among the tables of the Old Fashion in Taranto, the bar his parents and his uncle opened in 1998, and today, together with his brothers, he has recreated that spirit in Manhattan. We met him to hear what the Italian-style aperitivo means to him.

The story of the Old Fashion Cafe begins in Taranto in 1998, with the bar your parents and your uncle opened. What did growing up behind that counter leave you with, and what part of that family story did you bring to New York?

Growing up behind that counter taught me that a bar isn’t just a place where drinks are served, but a place where relationships are built. I watched my parents and my uncle know every customer by name, remember their tastes and always make them feel at home. It’s this philosophy that I brought with me to New York, the Italian hospitality made of attention, warmth and authenticity. And, for me, the finest achievement was being able to bring my brothers to America and share this dream with them. The Old Fashion Cafe isn’t just a business project, it’s a family project. Seeing them by my side every day and building together something that comes from our roots is the greatest satisfaction I could have wished for.

It’s said that your family helped create the modern culture of the Italian cocktail. What do you mean by the Italian-style aperitivo, and how did you bring it inside the Old Fashion Cafe?

For us the Italian-style aperitivo is first of all a moment of sharing. The cocktail is important, but it’s only one part of the experience. It’s the essence of the sweet idleness, the dolce far niente, taking a break, setting aside your commitments and living in the moment. This is the philosophy we brought to the Old Fashion Cafe. We want every guest to feel as if they were in an Italian piazza, with a good drink, something to share and the right company. More than serving cocktails, we try to bring a way of life to the table, the authentic spirit of the Italian aperitivo.

You arrived in New York in 2016 and worked behind other counters before opening your own place. What did you learn in those years, and what made you say “now is the time to open my own place”?

The most important experience was without a doubt the one behind the counter at Ulivo, a place where Italian identity isn’t just a concept, but is lived every day. There I understood how Americans see Italy and how much they appreciate two values that for us come naturally, hospitality and quality. After those years I felt the time had come to take a step further. With the Old Fashion Cafe I wanted to bring across the ocean not only our idea of the aperitivo, but above all the sense of family that has always defined the Old Fashion in Taranto, in Puglia. I wanted to create a place where people wouldn’t simply come to have a cocktail, but would feel welcomed as guests in our home.

You’re considered one of the great aperitivo experts in New York. Is there a cocktail on your menu, perhaps tied to your Italian memories, that you’re especially fond of and that tells the soul of the place?

Definitely the Negroni Sbiancato. It’s the cocktail that most represents our philosophy, and it was included among the hundred most important aperitifs in the world, a recognition that makes us very proud. For me it stands for class, elegance and balance, it draws inspiration from the great Italian tradition but interprets it in a contemporary way. It’s a drink that perfectly tells the soul of the Old Fashion Cafe, the respect for our roots, the attention to quality and the desire to offer an experience that stays in the memory. In the end that’s what we try to do every day, to bring a piece of Italy to New York, one aperitivo at a time.

Looking ahead, what do you want the Old Fashion Cafe to become for New York and for the Italians who live here?

I’d like it to become a point of reference. A place where Italians can feel a little at home and where Americans can have an authentic experience of our culture. Our goal is to keep making Italian hospitality known through good drinking, good food and an atmosphere that makes you want to come back. The United States is a country that rewards those who know how to innovate without forgetting their roots, and I believe it’s precisely from the meeting between Italian tradition and an international vision that the best ideas can be born.

The post Antonello Iacca and the Old Fashion Cafe, a piece of Puglia in the heart of New York appeared first on Good Morning Italy.

Aboard the Amerigo Vespucci, during its stop in New York, a Vespa event was also held, a meeting between two symbols of Made in Italy, the Italian Navy’s training ship and the most famous scooter in the world. The event marked the debut of a one-off model of the iconic scooter, dedicated to the training ship itself. On this unique Vespa, the glossy black body is crossed by two large white bands recalling the Vespucci’s hull, with graphic details inspired by its portholes, ochre finishes echoing the bulwarks and the bowsprit, and a seat upholstered in Olona canvas, the same fabric used for the ship’s sails. From here we set off for a conversation with Andrea Gucciardi, President and CEO of Piaggio Group Americas, the subsidiary that brings the Piaggio, Vespa, Aprilia and Moto Guzzi brands across the ocean, about the group’s future in the United States.

Leading Piaggio Group Americas is a manager who grew up in the world of engines and is, first of all, a passionate enthusiast. Gucciardi told us about his idea of business, the value of representing Italian excellence in New York, and the strategy with which Piaggio is looking at the years ahead on the American market.

Let’s start with you. What was the path that led you to lead Piaggio Group Americas, and what were the decisive moments of your career?

I’ve spent my entire career in an industry I’m first of all deeply passionate about, working both in four wheels and in two wheels. And I’ve had the good fortune to experience it from both sides, from the manufacturer’s side, so wholesale, and from the retail side. Two things have always guided the way I work, the customer and the processes. I firmly believe that a company, in order to function and grow, needs clear, solid and measurable processes, but at the same time I believe you can’t build an effective process without looking at it from the customer’s perspective. The question I often ask my teams is very simple, when you go to buy a product you truly love, how would you like to be treated? That is the experience you have to offer your customers. A decisive moment for me was when I led BMW’s retail branch in Rome. I moved my office from the back office directly into the showroom, into a glass office from which I could see customers coming in and talk to them. That’s where I understood even more clearly that you can’t run a business shut away behind a desk, you have to get out, be on the ground, among people. I believe it’s the only way to truly understand the market and succeed. Whenever I had the recordings of customer satisfaction interviews available, I always dedicated at least two hours a week to listening to them directly, and I asked my teams to do the same. By listening to the customer’s voice you understand where you’re going wrong and what you need to change, but also what you’re doing well and how you can maximize it.

What responsibility do you feel in representing a group that is a symbol of Made in Italy in the United States?

It’s first of all a great source of pride. Representing an Italian group in the United States gives me the opportunity to be, in some way, an amplifier of Italian culture, passion and spirit in a market where Made in Italy is recognized as excellence and holds extraordinary value. It’s a message I try to convey to our network as well. When I talk to dealers, I always remind them that we’re not simply selling a product, we represent Italian excellence and we operate in the high, premium end of the market. This spirit is already very present in our network, but my role is also to emphasize it and make it even stronger. For me, then, representing Made in Italy is certainly a responsibility, but above all a huge plus, and I try to make the most of its strength, turning the values and the culture we represent into a concrete element of our communication and our positioning in the market.

Piaggio is a group with very different brands and a long tradition. What is your vision for Piaggio Group Americas over the next five years?

My vision for the next five years starts from a very simple goal, being closer and closer to the customer. We are mainly a commercial organization and our role is to bring our brands and our products to the market, building the best possible experience for the customer. When I arrived in the United States, last year, one of the first things I noticed was that our network wasn’t widespread enough, and in our industry closeness to the customer is fundamental. If you buy a motorcycle or a scooter and then you have to drive hundreds of miles to find a dealer or get a service, you’re not offering a positive experience, you’re creating a problem for the customer. That’s why we’re investing in the sustainable development of our network and, at the same time, in after-sales, which we’ve strengthened not only in the United States but also in Latin America, where we’ve introduced dedicated resources that didn’t exist before. The third element is training. I believe a great deal in the training of the people who work in our dealerships, and we’re working to use digital technologies and artificial intelligence to develop new training paths for the network. Because, in the end, we don’t talk directly to the customer every day, we speak to the customer above all through our dealers. My vision is to build a network that is more widespread, better prepared and able to offer an ever better experience.

In recent years you’ve invested to strengthen Piaggio’s presence in the United States. Which results make you most proud, and what are the main challenges that remain open?

Starting precisely from the central role of the dealers, one of the results I’m most proud of is the change in the quality of the relationship with our network. We want dealers who are satisfied, profitable and able to convey to customers the values and the passion of our brands, and I believe the best way to build this kind of relationship is to talk to them and, above all, to listen to them. That’s why, over the past year, we’ve hugely intensified the moments of contact with the network. In Anaheim, during AIMExpo, I personally met around fifty dealers in three days, dedicating real time to them in one-to-one meetings. Then COTA, the product training in Sardinia, Vespa’s eightieth anniversary in Rome and, in the coming months, the big Moto Guzzi event in Mandello del Lario and EICMA. They are very different occasions, but they all share one common goal, increasing engagement, sharing the vision of our brands and building a stronger relationship with the dealers. Because if the network understands and embraces the brand’s vision, then you can succeed. The results are coming, we’re increasing the reach of the network and improving the quality of the relationship with our dealers, and this translates into a better experience for the customer and, so far, also into growth in our sales and our market share. Of course many challenges remain, and there are external factors, from the market to tariffs, that we can’t control. My approach is simple, focus energy on what I can control and try to have the greatest impact on what I can influence. As for the rest, you have to be able to adapt quickly.

Are there new projects, investments or initiatives you’re focusing on particularly in the United States, and that you believe will be decisive for the future of Piaggio Group Americas?

I see three major directions, tied to three of our brands. The first is Vespa. We’ve already begun a path of evolution and repositioning of the brand, moving more and more beyond the concept of simple mobility. Vespa is style, elegance, Italian culture, and we want to further strengthen its positioning as a premium brand, bringing it closer and closer to the world of fashion and lifestyle. It’s a path we’re investing a lot in, in the United States. And we also have a few surprises in store. In New York, for example, toward the end of 2027 we’ll have to change our offices, and I’d like our new home not to be simply an office on the ninth floor, but something that brings us physically closer to our customers. For now, though, I can’t say much more. The second direction is Aprilia. The results we’re achieving in MotoGP, the fruit of a significant investment by the Group, are giving the brand extraordinary energy and are also translating into strong commercial momentum. In the United States we want to consolidate and accelerate this growth, further strengthening Aprilia’s sporting positioning. And then there’s Moto Guzzi, a brand in which I believe there’s enormous potential for the American market. The Group has invested a great deal in the renovation of the historic Mandello del Lario plant. It’s not simply a new factory, with very high levels of digitalization, robotics and new technologies, we want it to become a true center of customer experience, a place where the customer can understand and feel the heart that beats inside Moto Guzzi. The new museum, the brand’s history and the Mandello experience represent something that very few manufacturers in the world can offer. And from Mandello new Moto Guzzi models will also arrive, starting next year, on which we have great expectations for the American market. If I had to sum it up, the evolution of Vespa toward a space increasingly tied to style, elegance and lifestyle, the consolidation of Aprilia as a great sporting brand, also through the strength of MotoGP, and a strong relaunch of Moto Guzzi, starting from Mandello, from its history and from the new products that will arrive. Three different brands, three different strategies, but all with enormous potential in the United States.

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Uncle Giuseppe’s Marketplace has become a destination for anyone looking for authentic Italian food in the New York area, an old world market where you know the butcher, the deli man and the face behind the counter. We talked with Vincent Olivieri, the chain’s Culinary and Deli Director, a chef who trained in Manhattan and travels tirelessly to Italy, about what makes the marketplace special, how it keeps Italian tradition alive and which products he chooses to put on its shelves.

Uncle Giuseppe’s is much more than a grocery store, it’s an experience. What makes that experience so special for customers?

The marketplace is an experience, and it’s designed that way. It brings in people who want to feel that old world marketplace experience, where you know who the butcher is, who the guy behind the deli counter is, who the person in the cheese department is. We form relationships, from our side to the customers, making them feel like they’re at home and that they can get whatever they’re looking for, customized however they feel comfortable shopping. It’s like walking through the streets of Tuscany, an open market with all the sampling and the open displays we have. We give you the feeling that this is a place to enjoy yourself, not just to come and shop.

Before we go further, tell us a bit about yourself. How did you end up at Uncle Giuseppe’s?

I started cooking because my mother couldn’t. I got the majority of my experience working in a regional marketplace, and I was a director of culinary for a very large Manhattan operation. After fourteen years working in Manhattan, I came to Uncle Giuseppe’s as a research and development chef. Now I run all of culinary and all of deli. I have a strong passion for food, for people, and for feeding people good food. I handle all the recipes, all the development, all the innovation, all the merchandising for the prepared foods. It’s a great relationship, I’m a part of the family, and I’m hoping to keep building success around the brand.

How do you balance authentic Italian tradition with the tastes of today’s customers?

The majority of our customers are Italian American, so they’re inclined to shop our Italian American classics, the chicken parm, the eggplant parm, the meatballs. But hidden not so far out of sight are all the authentic Italian items. I’m standing in front of my Sita Cheese display right now, and I told Alessandro, the owner of the company, that I wanted to replicate everything I see in Italy when I go to a salumeria. It took him a couple of years, but he achieved it. We have hanging salami, imported prosciutto, items that come specifically out of Parma. We have real guanciale, real spianata, real speck. Real things you’d see in a salumeria in Italy, and I brought them here to the US with the help of my friend Alessandro from Sita.

As Culinary and Deli Director, what inspires you when you create new recipes or select the products that end up at your counter?

I travel a lot, and I feel that my purpose on Earth is to share the gift that I have, which is creating good food. A lot of the inspiration for the food I create comes from Italy, from the many times I’ve been there. I’ve taken classes in different regions, from all the way north to all the way south. I find it special to introduce items that most Americans aren’t accustomed to, to display them and get people to try them, so they can have a taste of my journeys through Italy.

Your cheese department features products from many different producers. What earns a product a place at your counter?

I’m not the one most involved in the cheese department, that’s Franklin Fernandez, and we’re good friends. He shares the same traits I do: he’s always looking for top of the line, exclusive items from Europe, and he brings them in limited runs and limited time offers, with cheese from all around the world.

And when it comes to Italian excellence, what comes to mind?

I love the fior di latte. It’s something you can’t find anywhere. When Alessandro Sita introduced it to me, I said we have to have it. We brought it in and merchandised it in our pizza area, next to the pizza making kits and the dough. I buy it and bring it home myself every time I do a pizza event in my backyard. It’s just top quality cheese. And his salumi is fantastic. Who would have ever thought to wrap salumi with parmigiano reggiano around the outside? It’s exquisite and unique. Like the fior di latte, it’s the kind of thing you can’t find at regular retailers. Alessandro has been a great partner, and we love to feature the beautiful things he’s bringing over from Italy.

Customers today want to know where their food comes from and who makes it. What does the story behind a producer add to the experience for the people shopping at your counter?

Talking again about Alessandro, who is a good friend of mine, any time we’re featuring items from Sita there’s a lot of storytelling involved, because I deal directly with him. Talking about where things come from is very easy when you work with someone like Alessandro. He always makes himself available, and he’s transparent, open and honest about where he sources from. I trust him very much. I deal with a lot of brokers I can’t say I believe in, but if I’m looking for something, I reach out to Alessandro. He finds it, brings it in, and we have a great relationship.

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Alice Lussiana Parente is an artist who has made the blending of different artistic languages her distinctive signature. An actress, performer, and lover of painting, sculpture, music and dance, the Turin-born artist, who has lived in New York for the past twelve years, retraced her story with ilNewyorkese as a guest on the podcast Ritratti.

It is a story that moves through artistic experiences, decisive encounters and the deep bond with the city she now considers home.

During the interview, Parente explained how her relationship with art is rooted in her childhood. Raised in a family where creativity was part of everyday life, thanks to her mother, a painter and teacher of artistic disciplines, she developed from an early age a sensitivity toward different forms of expression.

“I think I was very lucky because I was born surrounded by art and beauty. My mother is a painter and a painting teacher at a high school, so I grew up watching her paint. I think that dimension entered my heart when I was still a child.”

For her, the various artistic disciplines were never separate compartments, but complementary elements of a single education: “Dance, movement and music are still part of me, and I believe they make an artist more complete.”

The actress then recalled one of the key moments in her professional growth: her encounter with British director Peter Greenaway. She was just sixteen when she auditioned for the first time for a project at the Reggia di Venaria.

It was an experience that left a deep mark on her: “It gave me so much. First of all, it was my first real professional experience, but on an emotional level it is difficult to explain the gratitude I feel toward a master like Peter Greenaway.”

Even today, she clearly remembers that first day on set and the most important lesson she learned: “I understood that I could do this job, and above all I learned a fundamental lesson: love is not enough to make art, you need dedication. You have to work hard and have discipline.”

Another decisive encounter was with Gigi Proietti, who chose her for the role of Annika in the stage production of Pippi Longstocking. Looking back on that period, Alice Lussiana Parente emphasized above all the rigor and passion of the great Roman actor and director. “What stayed with me was his absolute love for the craft of acting, for acting as craftsmanship.”

It was an experience that lasted two years and allowed her to observe up close a master who personally followed every stage of the theatrical work: “He was extremely present, he followed every phase of the work.”

The next chapter of her life took her across the ocean. Twelve years ago, she arrived in New York with the idea of staying for only a few months, but that temporary plan soon turned into a life choice: “I had grown up with the myth of this city, of Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro and great American cinema.”

The turning point came through the chance, unexpected but revealing, to enter the Stella Adler Studio of Acting, one of the most prestigious acting schools in the United States. “My initial idea was to stay in New York for only three months to attend a preparatory summer course,” she explained. After being admitted, however, she received a form of scholarship that allowed her to attend the academy. She then made the decision that would change her life and her professional path: “I went back to Italy to prepare, and then I left. In a way, that journey never ended. I’m still here.”

New York, however, was not only about opportunity and professional growth. The actress also spoke about the more difficult side of the American experience, made of loneliness and adaptation. “If I had to choose the most difficult moment, I would say the first month. It was a very cold winter, I was alone and I didn’t know anyone. Loneliness was the greatest challenge,” she said.

And yet that very phase proved essential to her personal growth: “That is when something clicked inside me. I think it happens to many people who arrive in New York. You go through a moment when you feel lost, you want to go home and you don’t know what direction your life will take.” The answer came through school and through the relationships she built over time: “I built my New York community. The stories of success, difficulty and personal growth that I encountered along the way enriched me and made me understand that I wanted to stay in this city.”

Among the professional achievements she has earned in the United States, a special place belongs to the Golden Film Award she received in Los Angeles as Best Emerging Actress. For Alice Lussiana Parente, that recognition meant much more than a simple prize. “Receiving that award was a great confirmation. It was my first recognition in the United States, and it came right in the heart of Hollywood.”

She still has a vivid memory of the return trip: “The award was made of glass, and during the flight back to New York I held it as if it were a treasure.” It is an episode that captures well the enthusiasm and gratitude with which she experiences every milestone she reaches.

The conversation on the podcast also brought out a reflection on time and artistic maturity. At 35, Parente looks to the future with serenity and without fears related to age. “I am proud of every year I have lived, and I wouldn’t take away a single one.” It is a particularly meaningful message in a field such as entertainment, where actresses often face stereotypes and pressures related to age: “I hope to continue being proud of every year that passes and to experience this growth as a richness.”

One of the projects awaiting her in the coming months is the docufilm dedicated to the birth of ilNewyorkese, in which she will play the role of Chiara. It is an adventure the actress approaches with enthusiasm, but also with the respect she brings to every character: “I don’t know how much I chose the character and how much the character chose me. I like to think that Chiara chose me.” For Alice Lussiana Parente, the value of the work also lies in the fact that it tells New York through a story born in the city itself: “For me, telling New York through a story born in New York, that loves New York and tells its story every day, is an enormous emotion.”

Finally, the actress emphasized the value of the dialogue between journalism and cinema, a central element of the project. “I believe that communication between different languages is something very precious.” It is a concept that echoes her own artistic experience, built on the encounter between different disciplines.

The post Inside Alice Lussiana Parente’s New York Story appeared first on Good Morning Italy.

Walking to the new Tappeto Volante Gallery from Little Italy, I thought about passages. Passing can have many different meanings: from one place to another, from one life to another. And art, truly evocative art, can also transport us in time and in our memory. This was the quality that first attracted me to Angelo Vasta’s work, whose focus on concealment and revelation represents an in-betweenness that carries particular emotional resonance. For me, it was seeing my father’s life, though cut short, celebrated through Vasta’s exploration of vulnerability. By focusing on transitions, from solitude to collectivity, darkness to light, disappearance to presence, Vasta challenges the viewer to see not just the end result, but the act or process of moving on.

Luci Spente, Vasta’s first solo exhibition in New York, inaugurates the new location of Tappeto Volante Gallery with a body of work that demonstrates both formal evolution and emotional intensity. Drawing from personal memory, dance cinematography, and art historical references, Vasta builds layered compositions in which figures oscillate between representation and abstraction. This vacillation creates an atmosphere of discovery, while the intimacy of the new Tappeto Volante space encourages undisturbed ambling between artworks. The gallery’s long central corridor encourages sustained looking, allowing the emotional and material complexity of Vasta’s drawings to unfold gradually and in tandem with one another. Across the exhibition, bodies gather, lean, dance, and engage each other and the viewer to see comfort in community, and joy in the intimacy of relationships, both familial and romantic. Ultimately, Luci Spente is an exhibition about how we survive the rupture of loss.

To create the immersive scenes that characterize his work, Vasta works in oil pastel on paper to combine figures, textiles, and landscapes into rich tapestries of color. The nocturnal tones that recur throughout the exhibition create a perceptual tension between concealment and revelation, while dancing bodies often appear suspended in movement. In this way, the exhibition treats darkness not only as context but as the source from which figures and color slowly emerge. Walking between Di Notte and Ragazzo con giglio, the show becomes (though perhaps unintentionally) bookended by these two works. Both share a visual vocabulary of gold-patterned textiles and dark grounds, flattening pictorial depth even as the figures strain toward movement. At moments, the flattening risks oversimplifying the emotional charge of the figures, yet this freedom becomes central to the exhibition’s psychological evolution. While Ragazzo employs an acrobatic figure moving through darkness with closed eyes, suspended between vulnerability and performance, Di Notte features a series of dancing figures and an open doorway that extends toward the night landscape beyond, transforming darkness from enclosure into passage.

Between these two works the exhibition opens into the colorful, saturated vitality that characterized Vasta’s earlier drawings. While echoes of Matisse emerge in Vasta’s palette and patterned interiors, the drawings ultimately reject decorative content as an end in itself, imbuing both landscapes and interiors with layers of tonality and meaning. Speaking with Vasta about Dancers on Dunes, he described the connection to his late father and to a photograph he keeps of him standing beside Matisse’s Dance at MoMA. Combining his professional background in dance cinematography with personal experience, the work becomes more than citation. Where Matisse often used ornament to dissolve tension into harmony, Vasta mobilizes color and pattern as sites of emotional compression. Here, as elsewhere, groups of figures become abstractions in their own right, dissolving individual identity into collective movement. The dancers do not merely occupy space together; they negotiate forms of proximity after loss.

This emphasis on relationality gives Luci Spente its contemporary resonance. The tenderness between figures carries particular force within representations of queer intimacy, where touch becomes both emotional language and resistance against isolation. In Luci Spente, intimacy emerges not as resolution, but through the continual movement and grouping of bodies. For this reason, Vasta’s drawings excel at communicating vulnerability, offering spaces in which these figures remain open, unfinished, and dependent on one another. Even in moments of solitude, the drawings suggest the possibility of communion lingering just beyond the frame.

All the images above are courtesy of Tappeto Volante Gallery

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Ferrara is much more than a historic bakery in Little Italy: it is an institution. Founded as a community café in 1892, it is a living archive of the Italian American experience in New York, while remaining entirely contemporary and timeless. In this interview, Ernest Lepore, CEO and Executive Chef, looks back on more than a century of family history, from the first espresso served to immigrants who had just arrived at Ellis Island to the legendary “Holy Cannoli,” through inherited values, moments of crisis, benevolent spirits hidden under the stairs, and plans for the future, always faithful to the bakery’s roots.

Ferrara is a living piece of New York history. Can you tell us how it all began, even before the city itself took shape?

Well, it’s ironic to think about it, but Ferrara was founded before New York City received its charter. In 1892, we became official, but before that we were a café, a kind of old-fashioned “social media.” People would come here looking for Mr. Ferrara — a bricklayer, an accountant, an architect — for help. It was a reference point, a place where the Italian community found support and connection.

And how does the experience of Italian immigrants intertwine with your story?

If you came from Italy, from Ellis Island you would arrive at the Seaport, where you would meet friends or relatives who had already settled in America. Then, passing through the Lower East Side, you would walk here, to an area where most people were German, Dutch, and Irish. But for us Italians, this was home. We turned Italian food into fine dining. It was a real cultural revolution, a way to affirm our identity and our value in an America that did not always welcome us with open arms.

Yours is a family story, with deeply rooted values. What principle has guided you through the generations?

Our grandmother taught us: “Family first, then business.” Even if we didn’t like each other, on Sundays we all had to sit at the table together. And in the end, things would work themselves out. That is the nature of things. This respect for family became a deep respect for the business, which we had to buy back from the other partners. It is a bond that is passed down, like when my niece, who is not even four yet, tasted a tricolor cookie bought somewhere else and said: “I don’t like it, it’s not good.” Quality is in our DNA.

Were there difficult moments, times when Ferrara’s future seemed uncertain?

The hardest moment was when my father died, at only 47. There was no succession plan. It was a devastating blow, but it taught us the importance of being prepared. Today, we are each other’s successors, and we have a good insurance policy!

Looking to the future, what are your dreams and plans for Ferrara?

The future is global, but also attentive to new needs. I want to bring Ferrara to five key cities around the world, starting with Naples. And we are working on gluten-free and “sugar-correct” products, to educate people to eat the best in terms of nutrition per calorie. Italian food, and Ferrara, must continue to evolve, to teach, and to delight.

Finally, what is the secret to the longevity of a place like Ferrara?

If there were a secret, do you think I’d tell you? My mother would say “the munaciello.” We still have a staircase that leads nowhere because that is where the munaciello is. It is a spirit, like a leprechaun, but Italian, who spins gold. Maybe he is the real secret, or maybe it is the consistency of the product. But there is certainly something magical about this place.

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Gianluca Passi has built a career that moves across industries with unusual fluidity — from professional rugby in Italy to the upper tiers of fashion, and eventually into global finance and investment. Now based in New York, his work sits at the intersection of capital, culture and relationships, with a growing focus on connecting Italian talent across borders.

Gianluca, your trajectory spans multiple industries and geographies. Why do you think so many Italians succeed abroad, often without being fully connected back to their home country?

It’s less about visibility and more about fragmentation. There are Italians operating at the highest levels globally — in companies like Apple, in finance, in tech — but they’re not part of a shared system. Their stories don’t intersect.

That’s the real gap. Not a lack of success, but a lack of connection. There’s an extraordinary pool of talent, but it’s dispersed. Bringing that together would create something much more powerful.

You’ve been in New York for years. How does the city shape people professionally and personally?

New York operates at a very high frequency. If you align with it, it accelerates everything — your growth, your exposure, your opportunities. If you don’t, it can be overwhelming.

It’s not just about work. When you build a life here — especially with a family — the complexity increases. Costs, time, pressure. You have to find your balance. Some people do, others realize it’s not sustainable for them.

You have three children growing up here. How do you maintain a sense of identity in such an international environment?

It’s a deliberate choice. At home, we speak Italian. That’s non-negotiable.

At the same time, they’re exposed to other cultures every day — English, Chinese at school, French through our nanny. The goal is not to limit that, but to anchor it. Identity and openness can coexist, and when they do, they become an advantage.

Your career began at Armani. What did that experience give you?

Perspective. I entered without a background in fashion, coming from sports, and suddenly I was inside a system that was incredibly sophisticated.

Armani wasn’t just a brand — it was an ecosystem. Fashion, design, hospitality, licensing. And everything was consistent. That level of control and vision is rare.

At a certain point, I was involved in talent strategy — proposing collaborations with athletes and artists. It was a unique environment to understand how influence and positioning really work.

Then you moved to Moncler, at a very different stage of its evolution.

Yes, and that’s what made it interesting. It was smaller, but extremely dynamic.

I joined before the IPO and saw the company transition into a global luxury player. What stood out was the ability to take a very specific product and reposition it completely, without losing its identity.

We also approached visibility differently. Less about formal appearances, more about real-life integration. That shift made a big difference.

Your move into finance wasn’t conventional.

It wasn’t planned. It started from relationships. I was connecting founders, advising informally, and that evolved into something more structured.

At some point, I realized I needed to complement what I was doing with technical expertise. That led to partnerships — first with Italian families, then with institutions like Azimut.

It became a combination of access, network and capital.

One of your current projects is SailGP. What drew you to that?

It brings together several elements — sport, business, global exposure.

Sport, in particular, has a unique ability to connect people. It’s universal. And in SailGP, the human factor is central. The boats are identical, the data is shared — the difference comes from the team.

That makes it compelling, both competitively and commercially.

You’ve said that brands and sport are resistant to technological disruption. Why?

Because they’re rooted in human behavior.

Brands represent identity, belonging, heritage. That doesn’t disappear.

Sport is unpredictable. It’s driven by people, not systems. You can’t replicate that with technology. If anything, I think we’ll see a renewed focus on human relationships.

You’ve been working on an initiative to connect Italians in the U.S. What’s the idea behind it?

The idea is simple: create a system where there isn’t one.

There are thousands of Italians in senior roles across industries, but they don’t operate as a network. There’s no structure that brings them together in a consistent way.

The goal is to build that — not just for those already established, but to create a platform that can support others coming in.

What advice would you give to someone starting out today?

First, get out of your comfort zone. That’s where growth happens.

Second, stay curious and build real relationships. That’s still the most valuable asset.

Third, don’t rush. Things take time. “Festina lente” — make haste slowly.

What does New York represent for you today?

A testing ground.

It forces you to adapt, to build resilience. You face rejection constantly, but that’s part of the process.

At the end of the day, everything comes back to people — understanding them, building trust, creating connections. That’s what makes things move.

The post “Festina Lente”: Building Global Networks the Gianluca Passi Way appeared first on Good Morning Italy.

Arianna Bergamaschi, known simply as Arianna, is an Italian singer, actress, and performer who rose to fame at a very young age as the official Italian Disney voice and as the lead in numerous musical and television projects. Over the years, she has built an international career, collaborating with artists such as Pitbull, Shaggy, Flo Rida, and Giorgio Moroder. Alongside her recording and theatre work, she has performed at major global events, from the Vatican to international productions and North American tours.

You grew up in a family closely connected to the entertainment world. How much did that influence your desire to work in television, and how much did you feel the need to build an independent path?
“There was definitely an influence from my family, especially from my mother. I come from a family full of musicians. But my desire to be independent came quite early. At first, maybe out of fear of comparison, I wasn’t even fully convinced I wanted to be a singer—I was more drawn to dance. Then, thanks to my experience with Disney, I understood that music could truly be my path and not just something temporary. Building my own identity took time. Even today, I still listen a lot to my mother’s advice, especially on interpretation.”

Looking back at your beginnings, when did you first think: ‘Okay, this is no longer a game, this is my real job’?
“Very early, actually. I started working practically from infancy—I was in commercials at seven months old. But real awareness came later, around my twenties, when I finally started managing my own money independently. That’s when I felt a huge sense of excitement: you think you’re independent, but then rent, expenses, and responsibilities arrive.”

You started very young in the entertainment world. Did you ever find it difficult?
“There were moments when I saw my friends playing outside while I had to study a song or prepare, but the desire to be on stage was always stronger than anything else. I remember at three years old I literally ran out of my mother’s arms to get on stage. It was completely instinctive, almost uncontrollable. So I think joy has always outweighed any sacrifices.”

You also started very young in television. Is there anything about that world that still surprises you today?
“Television has very different rhythms compared to theatre, which is closer to my background. I’m still surprised by how little time you’re given to prepare a performance: you have to arrive ready because rehearsals are minimal and everything happens extremely fast. Television consumes and delivers content at an incredible speed. That’s what makes it such a demanding medium.”

What do you think about the evolution of entertainment through streaming platforms and social media?
“I really like streaming platforms. Social media, on the other hand, has both positive and negative aspects. On one hand, it gives immediate access to information and allows talent to emerge more quickly, without long traditional paths. On the other hand, it often creates the illusion that visibility alone is enough to be an artist. That’s the risk: believing that followers replace training. In reality, a career requires constant work.”

Today, do you feel more like an actress, singer, or performer? Or do you find these categories unnecessary?
“Performer is the definition that represents me best, because it includes everything. I don’t want to limit myself to a single label. What I love most is interpreting—whether through singing, dancing, or acting doesn’t matter. What counts is communicating something and moving the audience.”

Is there a character that stayed with you even after the stage or set?
“Definitely Bernardina in Masaniello. To play a Neapolitan character as a Milanese actress, I studied for six months. I had to portray a Neapolitan fishmonger in a company of forty people, almost all from Naples. When they learned the lead was from Milan, many were skeptical. That pushed me to fully immerse myself in Neapolitan culture, which I already deeply loved. It was an incredibly intense experience on a personal level as well. At that time, my father was very ill and I was constantly moving between Naples and Milan. That role became a real catharsis and helped me process a huge pain.”

What led you to leave Italy and move to the United States?
“At first it was supposed to be just a future home, then Covid completely changed the plans. My husband realized we could live anywhere and suggested moving to a seaside city, also for our son who suffered from asthma. For me it was a shock, because my entire life and career were in Italy. It was a family decision, but at first I experienced it as a forced choice. Over time, however, I understood that this experience was making me grow. It forced me to reinvent myself and create something that would keep me connected to my culture. That’s how Italiani Veri was born.”

How much did this move influence the creation of the show?
“A lot. Every morning I worked on Italiani Veri, which is designed for an American audience. I had to look at my country almost from an external perspective. Many things that are obvious to Italians are not at all for an international audience. It was a fascinating exercise and a major artistic challenge.”

What are you working on at the moment?
“I’m working on Italiani Veri – The Show. The first date was on October 2 in Toronto, as part of a tour supported by the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Italian Cultural Institutes, which recognized its cultural value. After Toronto, we went to Chicago, Los Angeles, and Miami. Then we started a collaboration with Fever, which brought new dates such as Boston, Atlanta, and San Francisco. In San Francisco, the first show sold out immediately and a second performance was scheduled. Recently, the cover of the famous song That’s Amore was also released.”

How does it feel to have this response in the United States?
“It’s a wonderful surprise. Since it’s not my home country, you never take it for granted that people will buy a ticket for your one-woman show. I was very afraid, especially because the level of entertainment here is extremely high. But I’m receiving very positive feedback and I truly feel appreciated.”

If you had to define this phase of your life in one word, what would it be?
“Exciting. I feel like I’m in a very flourishing moment, both as an artist and as a person.”

The post Arianna Bergamaschi: “Moving to the U.S. forced me to reinvent myself” appeared first on Good Morning Italy.

Bilena Settepani is an Italian-American pastry chef, content creator, and entrepreneur. She works in her family business, Settepani, a historic bakery and restaurant rooted between Brooklyn and Harlem, where she grew up. Today she oversees creative dessert development as well as the brand’s marketing and e-commerce. In recent years she has gained visibility on social media for viral creations—like making panettone year-round and the “rainbow cookie croissant”—that blend Italian-American tradition with playful experimentation.

You didn’t originally plan to enter the family business. Looking back, was that shift a conscious decision—or something that became inevitable over time?

As first-generation children of immigrants, my parents always wanted more for us. They know how hard the hospitality industry is and strongly encourage education. While also making so many sacrifices for my brother Seyoum, and I to get a strong education.They didn’t want me to join the business; they wanted us to go to college, explore other paths, maybe become a doctor or a lawyer.

So I tried to make them happy. I graduated in communications and started working in fashion. I enjoyed it, but I always found myself going back to the bakery after work. There was something about working with my family that kept pulling me in. Eventually I went to culinary school, graduated, and started working full time at the family business.

My grandmother used to say, “When are you going to stop what you’re doing and go help your dad? He needs you.” She was very adamant. While my decision isn’t only about honoring her memory, it is about love. I truly love what we do and working with my family.

Food brings people together. It lets us connect with our culture and keep traditions alive, even in a place like New York—which is home, but far from where my family comes from. That connection is incredibly important to me.

My parents immigrated to New York as teenagers and my dad settled in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, while my mom ended up in Queens. My father was a student at NYU when he bought a small bakery in the village on LaGuardia Pl and that was the beginning of the Settepani story – although it was called Bruno Bakery from the original owners, that was the beginning. Over the years the business grew from that original bakery to multiple Settepani locations, including a Sicilian restaurant on 20th Street that was called Bondi, we also had two coffee shops in Westchester in the 90’s early 2000’s. Today we have Settepani a restaurant in Harlem that’s been open more than 26 years, our Bakery in Williamsburg location is celebrating 35 years soon, and we run a few caffe’s one in Dumbo Brooklyn, and this year we opened two new outposts in the Studio Museum and Central Park.

I have been surrounded by food my whole life, my parents, grandparents, and much of my family were and are involved. 

You grew up inside Settepani, but today you’re actively reshaping it. How do you balance preserving a legacy with the need to evolve it?

I did grow up inside Settepani. Some of my earliest memories are doing homework at the bakery table or being surrounded by the people who worked with my parents and cared for me. I took my first steps there; my first words were probably food-related. 

Your work blends Italian tradition with influences that go far beyond it. Are you trying to expand what “Italian” means—or to challenge it altogether?

I’m not trying to change or challenge what “Italian” means. My goal is to share Italian culture, recipes, and traditions, and to bring people together through them. Recently I started hosting monthly events at our restaurant to build community—bringing together newly arrived Italians, longtime friends, and anyone who loves Italian food. It’s a way to keep traditions alive here in New York without having to travel to Italy. Food is a powerful connector; it brings back memories, emotions, and a sense of home.

Many dishes appear across cultures in various forms—a cotoletta, say, shows up in different cuisines under different names—but they all connect people to memory. For me, things like pastina when you’re sick, caponata after school, or traditional Sicilian cookies like buccellati are deeply tied to childhood and family traditions. Even when we innovate, like making artisanal panettone year-round, a practice my father helped pioneer in the U.S.—we do it to keep the storytelling alive. New flavors and formats aren’t about abandoning tradition; they’re about making it relatable to our community today.

Growing up between different cultures in New York, do you feel more connected to an Italian identity, a New York mindset, or something entirely your own?

I think Italians often grow more prideful of their identity when they’re away from Italy. Growing up in a family nostalgic for home from multiple cultures, I was constantly surrounded by that pride of where we come from. Food is the quickest way to reconnect when you can’t get on a plane, so we keep traditions alive year-round, sometimes with modern twists, but always rooted in authenticity. I’d say I’m a mix: Italian and New Yorker, and also something uniquely my own shaped by both worlds.

Italian food in the U.S. is often tied to nostalgia. Your approach feels more forward-looking, do you think that perception is finally changing?

Yes. Nostalgia will always be central, and beautiful, because it ties food to family and memory. But there’s growing curiosity now: people want to learn, try new interpretations, and understand the stories behind dishes. The future of Italian cuisine here will be that balance, honoring tradition while allowing room for evolution. It’s not replacing the past; it’s building on it for new generations.

You’re not just creating products, but also shaping the brand and its narrative. How intentional are you about building a clear point of view behind everything you do?

I’m increasingly aware that I’m building a brand. At first I focused simply on preserving family traditions; now I see how important it is to have and communicate a clear point of view. For me, preserving traditions and explaining their meaning, why dishes are made, why they belong to certain holidays, how they connect to culture, is essential. In a world full of negativity, bringing people together through food to create joy and connection feels vital, especially in a city like New York.

If you had to define what you represent today—not just as a pastry chef, but as a voice within a new generation—what would you say?

It’s hard to define myself in one box, I see myself first as a baker. Everyone has a voice; mine is one way of keeping traditions and stories alive through something sweet. I hope to represent a generation that values tradition, community, and collaboration, people who believe that we’re stronger together, and support each other instead of competing against each other. I’m grateful for the trust people place in me, when they eat my food, hire us for events, or listen to our story. If anything, I aim to use that trust to build connections and keep our cultural stories alive.

The post Bilena Settepani and the future of Italian pastry in New York appeared first on Good Morning Italy.

Who is Alberto “Polo” Cretara.  Few figures in Italian music history embody the idea of pioneer quite like him. As frontman of La Famiglia — the Naples-based collective that first brought hip-hop in the Neapolitan dialect to the national market in the 1990s — Polo was far more than a rapper. He was an organizer, a graphic artist, a north star for an entire generation that would go on to include names like Clementino and, more recently, Geolier, whose Neapolitan-language performance at the Sanremo festival sent shockwaves through Italian pop culture. La Famiglia released a fully dialect-language album in 1998, a cultural and political provocation at a time when Southern Italy was routinely dismissed and denigrated in the national conversation. The record opened a door that countless artists would later walk through. Polo eventually emigrated to New York, where he ran Farinella Bakery, a cult pizzeria beloved by the city, all while rapping at night without ever stopping. Now, at 54, he’s back in the studio with La Famiglia — to point the way out of the chaos, one more time.

How did your relationship with hip-hop begin?

It all started with a teacher who stopped me cold at the blackboard. I don’t remember if I was in middle school or high school, but from that moment I never stopped thinking about it. Then, because my father worked for Enel — the Italian national electric company — I had access to a youth travel program called the Arca. From age thirteen on, I was going to England and France every summer, breathing this culture from the inside. At eighteen, I saved up money doing graffiti on shop shutters — there was nobody else doing it then, the money was real — and I bought a ticket to New York. It cost one and a half million lire. A fortune. But there was no discussion. Hip-hop works like Archimedes’ principle: the harder something pushes you down, the more the culture lifts you back up.

Were you aware, while you were doing it, that you were blazing a trail?

Everything I have ever done in my life came from a personal need to say something. Hip-hop had struck us like lightning because of what it carried: the gesture, the narrative of the challenge — the New York gangs that instead of fighting with knives fought with how they danced. The final message, though, was always peace. Unity. It’s a culture that cannot go out of style because the message of love is universal. The harder something pushes you down, the more it lifts you back up. Archimedes’ principle applied to music.

What do you still carry of Naples with you?

The anger. Same as always. There were maybe ten, twenty years of lull — I had Farinella, my workers were well paid, it felt like society was actually heading somewhere good. But they were lying to us, as they often do. And now here we are in this abyss, everyone navigating without a compass, because the machines they’ve built interfere with even that. La Famiglia found the light at the end of the tunnel back in the nineties and pointed to it. Today, with everything I’ve lived through, at fifty-four years old, I see even further. In the nineties we looked straight ahead, at ninety degrees. Not thirty. And at ninety degrees you get the horizon — you see forever.

The 41st parallel connects Naples and New York. What do these two cities actually share?

The sea. The port. A mother with open arms — everybody’s welcome. I can guarantee you that in Naples, everybody is welcome. And New York has always been the home and refuge of everyone who needed to find something different somewhere else. A mother who raised children capable of defending that right for everyone. What you see with Mamdani today is not the expression of some corrupt electoral machine — it’s the people of New York saying: we want democracy, we want something inclusive, we want to feel part of something bigger.

Geolier at Sanremo, singing in neapolitan dialect. Continuity or rupture?

I’d say grandchild. He had the courage to do what we did in 1998, when we released an album entirely in Neapolitan for an Italian market where Naples was being systematically dragged through the mud — Umberto Bossi was calling us names at full volume, and we were taking it in the face, hit after hit. We answered with music. Geolier made that same courageous choice on a much bigger stage. We are huge supporters of his work.

Looking at today’s music scene — has something been lost? The truth, the belonging, the message?

The truth still exists. The protest still exists. But you have to dig for it, because it’s not always on the mainstream, and the algorithm is not going to help you find it. Today the real fight is between your hunger for truth and the algorithm. That is the actual battle we need to have. There is no currency on this planet — in any nation — that compares to the feeling of stepping off a stage after the crowd has received exactly what you wanted to give them

The stage, the respect of the crowd, leaving a cultural mark — what still moves you?

The stage. There is no currency on this planet, in any country, that holds up when you step off a stage and the crowd has received what you came to give them. I don’t need money. I do this to give what I have inside — something I have to give, have to say. When I see it register in the faces out there, that’s when I’m paid. Which is why we still go out and play. Sometimes for free.

New York in one bar — go.

New York is beautiful and beloved — but all you do is spend money (Original in Neapolitan: “New York è bella e cara, ma se ne vann sul renar.”)

The post The Man Who Rewired Italian Hip-Hop From Naples to New York appeared first on Good Morning Italy.