Hanging out with celebrities boosted my confidence. Stars were just people—nice people, even. Moreover, the menswear conference confirmed that I was on my way to being a master tailor. The industry professionals I met were competent but not superior. My competitive nature let me know I could play with the best—and even beat them. My ego-boosting trip proved timely. As it turned out, Mr. Goldman had bigger plans for my future than I could have ever dreamed. “We’re headed to London, Martino,” he said. “Pack your suitcase and bring Arlene.” Mr. Goldman traveled in style and comfort. He never carried money on him save for a single silver dollar. Standing in the hotel lobby, I asked him why he didn’t carry cash. “I don’t need to. You don’t either,” he said. “I just sign for it. If you have any expenses, don’t pay for anything. Just tell them you’re with Mr. Goldman.” “I don’t have to pay them?” “No. You’re with me. That’s all you need.” Mr. Goldman noticed my confusion.
