There’s no escaping Audrey Hepburn. Or Truman Capote. When I was in Palermo for the first time in 1984, I got it into my head that I wanted to find a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s in Italian. Collazione da Tiffany. Of course, I found it, the Italians being known for their appreciation of fine art. And, of course, I didn’t buy it once I realized that my Italian was such that I couldn’t read much beyond the title. Here in southern Spain, I wandered into a bookstore one afternoon and look! Again, an appreciation of high style. Why, even Adolfo Suárez seems to be taking his cue from Miss H. Some practical wisdom -- my friend Patti, whenever she’s been nervous before a job interview, has invoked this bit of advice: Pretend you’re Audrey Hepburn. Try it next time. It works. Just don’t pretend you’re Truman Capote. That can be less effective.