Shortly after establishing his luxury beachhead in Miami, Buti met the stunning Pestova, who, like him, had only recently arrived in America. After being discovered in a Prague movie theater in 1989, Pestova came to New York not understanding a word of English but became successful almost overnight. "She worked with all the best photographers, magazines, and beauty campaigns," recalls her former agent Maria Cognata. "This was years before Tommaso."

Unlike Buti, Pestova is universally well liked. "She's an amazing, amazing girl," says Cognata. "Extremely generous." A former Fashion Cafe executive, no fan of Tommaso's, has only nice things to say about his wife. "She's beautiful and very polite and kind of shy in a way. Amazing, really -- a very nice woman."

Although Pestova rebuffed him at first, Buti pursued his cover model with a passion, giving her frequent gifts of extravagant jewelry, greeting her at airports with roses, and even following her on her travels. In the end, Pestova succumbed to his charms, and by all accounts fell madly in love. She and Buti were married at City Hall in April 1994, and then again the following summer, on Cap Ferrat, in a lavish wedding at the Hotel du Cap with 200 guests. For Buti, so eager to prove his mettle as a world-class playboy, Pestova was the ultimate status symbol.

Buti simultaneously packaged himself as both a product of great wealth and a "self-made" man, one who had transformed a $2,000 investment in a sandwich business into a Fulton Street gourmet store that he sold for a fortune. In truth, he sold the deli -- which cost him $120,000 to open -- for only $60,000. As for his house, he bought it with money from his mother and a wealthy man Buti describes as a "family friend." His cars, he admits, were all leased. Hype, high living, and sub-ordinary investment returns. It was not an auspicious prehistory for Fashion Cafe.

Still, despite his youth and lack of experience, Buti had little trouble putting together what would become his biggest venture yet: The idea was to take advantage of the supermodel craze by assembling a chain of high-fashion diners. When he approached the supermodels with the concept in 1994, theme restaurants were booming, and Buti was offering an enticing package: $50,000 to $100,000 per appearance plus luxury travel and lodging and a percentage of net earnings as the business expanded. Through Chitis, who is good friends with Elle MacPherson, Buti met the model and sold her on the project; with Elle on board, he approached Claudia Schiffer, via her lawyers, and got her to join as well; once he had those two, Naomi Campbell fell dominolike into place. (Despite deriding Fashion Cafe as a "tacky theme restaurant for tourists," Christy Turlington signed on in the summer of 1995. Two years later, after making far fewer appearances than her peers, she resigned.)

With "the girls" as enticement, it was an even easier feat to raise the money to foot their bills and open the business. The supermodels were then at the height of their power, and there were more than a few Italians on the fringe of Buti's orbit willing to throw millions his way for a chance to meet and greet them. "The investors were 'Tell me where to go' kind of guys," says a former Fashion Cafe employee who joined when the New York restaurant opened in the spring of 1995. "They wanted to say they owned the models. They wanted to say they owned a piece of Fashion Cafe. This was play money." According to the source who researched Buti's finances, Buti was not only a fabulous party-giver but also a shrewd one. "A wonderful car, a wonderful bottle of wine, whatever your vice might be, you just got carried along by the glamour," he says. "Would he have succeeded selling copy machines or computers? I have no idea."

Although the New York restaurant certainly had its fifteen minutes -- its star-studded opening was captured by CNN and the BBC; Ruth Reichl waited on line for an hour, declaring the food "surprisingly decent" -- it was soon attracting a clientele in which extras from Paper Dolls mingled with regulars from T.G.I. Friday's. Indeed, it's hard to imagine how a restaurant offering such attractions as a hermetically sealed display case of Pestova's turquoise Victoria's Secret underwear and oil-oozing fish might have garnered any glamorous repeat traffic -- or any repeaters at all. The regularly scheduled fashion shows featuring "undiscovered models" parading around in "pajama fashions" didn't help.