The restoration was completed in the mid-’90s, but the interiors continued to evolve. When Ungaro died in 2019, the house came into the possession of his daughter, Cosima. “For him, it was about daring, and taking risks. But it was above all very personal,” she says. Thirty-five years old, petite and self-contained with a Rapunzel’s cascade of dark-blonde hair, Ungaro sits with me in the Commanderie’s dining room, the gleam and scent of years’ worth of beeswax polish emanating from its terracotta floor. She spent all her summers here, a child observing a constant flow of people, many of them famous, drawn by the nimbus of creativity and dynamism that surrounded her father. “It was clear to me, even when I was very little, how much there was to absorb of a way of living, of sharing and making people feel happy. I got that it was a privilege just to be at the table with them.”