On every corner of Manhattan’s grid, the pouring rain provides an opportunity for street vendors to hawk five-dollar collapsibles to ill-prepared pedestrians rushing between the palaces of commerce and industry. Many of these cheap guards against deluge end up in gutters and on curbs, torn by the winds howling through the city’s canyons.

Few can imagine that the hundreds of aluminum and polyester corpses strewn along Fifth Avenue or Wall Street are the poorest descendants of imperial dignity.

In the workshops of Francesco Maglia in Milan, the nobility of the umbrella is carefully preserved. Artisans sew by hand the fabrics, both luxurious and resilient, to robust frames and mount them on shafts with fine wood handles. For a century, the Maglia family has been making exclusive umbrellas that transcend the stereotype of the British merchant or Guardsman in mufti.

The umbrella was first conceived—as the name implies—to give shade to those beneath it. A light and cheerful parasol for an afternoon stroll in Spain or Sri Lanka should keep the head cool and not only dry.

Thus, a discriminating customer will find shade of all kinds in the Maglia selection, even to reduce the glare if, while strolling, one cannot stop scrolling.