Wednesday Night Lights.

When I first met Mr. Mercanti, I thought he was on drugs. His thick beard and well-worn biker jacket made him look like a fashionable madman. I watched him light a cigarette, and peek through the blinds into the party we were both attending.

“I’m… M-M-Mmichael,” he said, offering an open palm.

Tripping over his words, he asked me a series of question about a girl I didn’t know. I had no answers and he disappeared without finishing his smoke.

Then on Wednesday night, lured by free liquor, I had another encounter with Mercanti. The Queen St. boutique Carte Blanche opened its doors after business hours to throw a party for its newest jewelry collection, Speech.

It turns out Mercanti isn’t a drug addict. He’s a jewelry designer, and Speech is his label. The label’s name is a battle he’s always fighting: his speech impediment. Walking past bloggers taking pictures of shoestring-thin models and carefully dressed hipsters, Mercanti again extends his open palm.

“R-Rruss… Th-thanks for coming,” he says. Mercanti is the kind of man who remembers your name. He’s both nervous and sweet, greeting guests then hiding amongst them. Being in the spotlight is clearly not in his nature. But Mercanti may have to get used to it; his jewelry has been featured in Teen Vogue and Dejour Magazine, and having Carte Blanche as a retailer will further boost his profile.

Every designer has a story, but few tell it as well as Mercanti. He nods towards me, then laughs quietly and looks at the floor, tucks down his chin and again disappears into the back of the stuffed boutique. And then it occurs to me: there’s a lot of you can say without having to speak.