A sip, and you taste it; another, and you feel it—the throw-your-head-back joy, the utterly fabulous bravado of pleasure. It is the pleasure of vodka crafted with coveted Italian wheat so rare and pure it would be a crime to distill its flavor away, the pleasure of blood-orange sunsets and of sea salt that tickles your skin and clings to your soul as night becomes morning and strangers become friends. All because you choose to engage in the glorious art of misbehaving—an art perfected in Italy. One sip makes you smile, another makes you laugh, and a third may just make you roar. By all means, do—we’ll join you. Let’s roar.

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