From one man to one brand

The discreet automatic door on Rue Moutran creaks open. On the left is a tinkling, indoor waterfall and, at the top of the narrow flight of stairs, an immaculately groomed personal assistant glides out from behind a desk. Earl Grey? Sure, why not? Then it’s into a vast office where tan hides and white sheepskins mingle with bold timbers. Luxury and functionality set off by a vast, colorful canvas.Tony Salameh enters and sits down. He looks at his watch. One senses the clock has started. The suit is dark blue with a discreet pinstripe, the tie a pale blue, jacquard weave. The knot is biggish and rakishly askew. The hair neat but ruffled with a few dabs of gel. The tea arrives, steaming in what appears to be a pewter beaker with a pleasing leather handle. Welcome to Tony’s world. On the upAt just 39, Salameh is arguably; well surely