In New York, on the spur of the moment you borrow a friend's Armani coat to go to the market two blocks down. You do not particularly care for the Armani coat. The clasps & buttons are too big and the belt-buckle is ostentatious.
Halfway to the store, by pure insane chance, you meet Giorgio Armani. A private car pulls quickly to the curb -- the recognition is unavoidable, he is too close. He notices you, wearing one of his designs & holds his arm out, preventing someone from exiting the vehicle after him.
Giorgio Armani is so close you catch a whiff of cologne, and observe the fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.
"Do you like my coat?" he asks you.
"Yes, I do," you lie.
Armani narrows his eyes but smiles, because he knows you are lying.
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