Ten years of the same work, under a new name.

In 2014 a relative asked for help. They wanted to claim Italian citizenship through the paternal line and had already made three mistakes: forms from the wrong consulate, a translation done by a friend who was not a sworn translator, an appointment booked at a consulate that did not serve their residence. We rebuilt the file, filed it, it landed. On the day the passport came through, we understood something we have carried since: this path is hard not because the law is obscure, but because the small mistakes cost as much as the big ones.

Then a friend of the relative came. Then a colleague of the friend. Then someone on a forum, who wrote because someone had said we knew the difference between an extract and a historical certificate. For years we worked like that — a call, a coffee, a folder taken home. No website. No price list. No rush. One case at a time, read with care, closed when it was ready.

Over this decade we have seen every well-meant mistake. We have seen names lost in the drift between three civil registries. We have seen apostilles applied to the wrong piece of the file. We have seen files refused for a single missing document, after months of work. And we have learned, case by case, which consulate reads Law 91/1992 one way and which reads it another, which Italian commune replies to email and which only replies to certified mail, which translator sits on the tribunal's CTU register and which, unfortunately, does not.

In 2026 we decided to give that work a public form. Pratica is not a start-up. It is not an idea we are testing. It is the written-down, ordered, reachable version of a service that for more than ten years existed only for those who came to us by referral. We opened it because too many people, outside our circle, were spending money and months on avoidable choices. And because, at some point, they deserved to find us without having to know someone who knew us.

Before we accept a case, we read it. If the route is closed — by generation, by date, by residence — we say so at once. We do not open cases that will not land. A no said early is worth more than a yes that leads to a consular refusal six months later.

Every document is dated, numbered, searchable. Every translation is verified before being handed to the consulate. Every apostille is applied at the correct step of the chain — not before, not after. This is not perfectionism: it is keeping a two-hundred-pound fee from turning into two lost months.

We write a lot. The important decisions — which route, which sequence, which consulate — arrive in writing, with the reasons. Calls and quick messages are summarised in the portal, so that a year later, if needed, you can find again why we chose one path and not the other.