My friend (and roommate on Via Candia), Elizabeth, and I would let out exasperated "allllooorrraaa"s after a long day of sketching in the city. Similarly after long days of work in New York, my favorite resident Italian, Stefano, would look at me sympathetically and say "allora, Miss Kennedy" before misting my face with Evian from an aerosol can. And of course, my sisters shares the same love for this wonderful word, which perfectly summed up our sentiments about my new Charleston apartment last fall. Allora. "What now?" in an idle, carefree tone.
That "allora" from Lauren (via a chair from my mom) translated into my refurbishing allora.signature.RUTLEDGE, and when we needed to give this hobby a name, she reminded me of "allora" once more. Va bene.