Goin' to the chapel

Romina was born in Santiago, Chile, and moved with her family to the metropolitan area of Washington, D.C. when she was very young. Growing up, she split her time between soccer fields and adventures with her older sister and little brother (Paula and Jojo). Her path eventually led her to New York City, where she studied at Barnard College. Peter grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, with roots stretching back to Norway on his mom’s side and Italy on his dad’s. Officially Dennis Peter Barba III, he spent much of his childhood with his two little brothers (Owen and Andy) and on basketball courts, a passion that carried him to Columbia University. And it was there, through sports and city life, that his world collided with Romina.

Peter & Romina first crossed paths between the rectilinear boundaries of 114th Street, 120th Street, Broadway, and Amsterdam—frequently known as Columbia University—while they both studied there between 2014/15 and 2018/19. Romina took oil painting classes in Dodge Hall, the art classrooms that always smelled faintly of turpentine and Juicy Fruit gum. Nearby, Peter spent most of his time in Dodge Gym, where he played basketball for four years, and in his senior year, was team captain and led the Ivy League in three-point percentage. Peter claims he often saw Romina in the dining halls but refused to talk to her on account of his college uniform (sweats). Romina says he was very cool in college, and she was better off in Butler Library, buried in her War and Memory course reading. No dates here. Not yet. But real recognize real.

After graduation, they both stayed in New York City. Peter joined an investment banking firm, working on the restructuring team. He spent long nights working, reading TechCrunch articles, playing chess, and watching Survivor. He whistled to himself—tunes no one else heard or appreciated, yet. Romina worked as a data analyst (read: data elf) right on 42nd and Broadway—Times Square. Hell. But on weekends, she walked from her apartment on 72nd and Columbus across Central Park with a sketchbook in her tote bag, spending hours at the Met. Her favorite subject was Degas’s The Little Fourteen-Year-Old Dancer. She built a small portfolio and used it to apply to an art program in Paris. In 2020, she moved there to study at the Louvre.

In March 2020, Romina returned to her old Upper West Side apartment in the chaos of the pandemic. Peter lived just ten blocks uptown. An MTA fairy (or perhaps fate) told Peter that Romina was back from Paris, and he asked her to grab a drink—at the fine establishment known as the Tiki Bar on 85th and Broadway. It was drizzling. Romina walked over listening to Daft Punk. Peter claims he had been listening to the same song before the date. Real smooth, Peter. Peter was already seated when she arrived. For the first two minutes, they talked fast—years of separate life paths condensed into a blur of stories, moves, jobs, and questions with no answers. After reeling in the years, they took a breath, and things slowed down.

The couple describes that first drink as exciting, refreshing, and filled with quiet signals that this could be meant to be. What followed was momentum: 2nd date — The mystical Nicholas Roerich Museum on 107th and West End, followed by a long walk revisiting Columbia’s campus. 3rd date — At Romina’s apartment. Peter showed up holding a succulent as a gift. It’s still alive today! Soon, Romina began lending Peter books from her personal collection, each with a handwritten library card tucked in the back to record the date and time of check-out. Peter read voraciously, reported back his findings, and returned for more. The NYC momentum was building.

Romina was scheduled to go on a family trip to St. Petersburg, Florida. As a former basketball player, Peter knows the importance of momentum—and, having gone to high school at IMG Academy, he also knew his way around the Gulf Coast. A few flirty text messages later, Romina had accepted Peter’s offer to be her tour guide in St. Pete and to drive together to Miami for a fun-filled week. Their first “Florida date” was at the Dalí Museum. They never could have imagined that just five years later, they’d be married in a hotel where Dalí himself once lived. Later that week, at a Wynwood flea market, Peter spotted a shimmer of blue—a moon ring glowing on a vendor’s table. He gifted it to Romina. She wore it for the next four years.

By the Love that moves the sun and the other stars. — Dante Alighieri, Paradiso (Canto XXXIII, line 145) In July 2021, Peter quit his job in investment banking. With a new mustache and new polola (girlfriend, in Chilean), Romina, they flew one-way to Rome to discover the Sistine Chapel, then to Sicily, explored Taormina, flew to Nice, and, on the train ride to the Grand Casino of Monte Carlo, Peter taught Romina blackjack. Later that summer, they snuck into the Cannes Festival, enjoyed the plage in Saint-Tropez… before finally landing in Paris for the summer. They moved through Europe like Bonnie and Clyde—minus hard brushes with the law, except for one encounter with the beloved SNCF (ask Peter about this, or don’t). They stayed together in an artist’s apartment in Gambetta, in the 20th arrondissement, near the Edith Piaf Plaza. They played chess outside Shakespeare & Company. Peter would leave notes for her on the bookstore’s wall. Romina loved encountering these surprise missives—and petting the bookstore cat, Agnes. That summer, Romina met Peter’s parents, Dennis and Monica, for the first time at Angelina on Rue de Rivoli. Unbeknownst to anyone, five years later the couple would be scheduled to tie the knot just next door. By late August 2021, Peter moved to Oslo to join Antler Norway. There, he met his co-founder and started Lectrium—a company helping advance EV adoption across the U.S. Romina followed him north—down to icy fjords and up to the Arctic Circle, where they saw the northern lights together.

Love is a tree with branches in forever with roots in eternity and a trunk nowhere at all. ― Richard Powers, The Overstory Returning to NYC in November 2021, they moved in together—first in Peter’s parents’ apartment near Central Park (thank you, Monica and Dennis!), and later to Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Or, as Peter likes to call it: Greatpoint. Here, they discovered Little Poland—finding new coffee shops, trying Peter Pan donuts, eating Paulie Gee’s pizza, and galavanting arm-in-arm down Franklin Street, exploring thrift stores and record shops, often ending the night at the Pencil Factory. For special occasions, they’d visit Achilles Heel, their nearby cocktail spot. Romina would always order “the Moon Ring” drink, and Peter, a beer.

May you continue to grow as you go... ―a dear friend's letter Slowly, they built the home they’ve now lived in for three years. It started with Peter building an IKEA bookcase. They combined their book collections. Big moment. Once, they even tried to read the same 200-page book at the same time—each holding one side of it like a wishbone. Romina was ahead, so she flipped to the second half; Peter had just started, so he read from the first. Don’t be weird about it. Their apartment soon filled with art. Romina grew a garden with sturdy petunias. She loved their terrace and watering the plants every morning. Peter loved the amenities (especially the gym) and the central air conditioning he often missed in Europe. They were often seen in the co-working space, absolutely locked in—or purchasing overpriced coffee from the shop downstairs—until October 25, 2025, when they finally purchased their first coffee machine (rejoice!)—usually in matching blue Crocs.

I’ve enjoyed walks with you in Paris, and I want to walk with you on Mars, we are on this journey together. – Peter told Romina on his way to the Louvre to propose In September 2023, Peter and Romina’s parents met for the first time at the Naval Academy. Neutral territory. Peter was ready to propose. It didn’t happen. Romina’s dad, Jorge, later took Peter on his lengthy “to-show-Peter” tour of Virginia’s war and history sites—ending at Mount Vernon, George Washington’s house. Again, Peter was ready. Again, it didn’t happen. Finally, he thought Paris might be a good idea. A tale as old as time. They had spent the last three summers there. It was perfect. One Friday evening at Achilles Heel, Peter asked Romina if she’d fly with him to Paris the next day. They were in Paris the next day. On November 19, 2023, Peter led Romina through the Richelieu entrance of the Louvre, toward a quiet, private pavilion in the Denon Wing—the very place Romina had once sketched her first subject: the unknown soldier. As they walked beneath the arches, the dream carpet unrolled. At 4:30 p.m., Peter got down on one knee. Romina said, “Yes.” They joked: “Sí, as in Siempre (forever), and Oui, as in We.” The engagement reached liftoff!

At the turn of the year, in the winter of 2024, the couple traveled south to Chile to visit Romina’s family. Peter (Pedro) practiced his Spanish, learned to surf in Viña del Mar, drank pisco, and hiked through Patagonia for a week. Then they returned to New York City—and got to work. Lectrium pivoted to a new business model helping dealerships sell EVs. Peter completed Urban X’s Mini Accelerator, became a speaker at the NADA car conference, and won the NYC Climate Week Cup in basketball—twice. Romina began a full-time role with a leading contemporary art fair, and continued curating exhibitions. She expanded her garden. Started doing pilates. Ran the Brooklyn Half Marathon. Ran the Paris Marathon. Paced her little brothers' ultramarathon—twice. They went to Iceland. To Canada. And finally, they hired a wedding planner. And somewhere between flights and finish lines, between pitch decks and conference speeches, they realized something: if they were building all of this together: businesses, miles, gardens, a life...they should probably make it legal. So where better to begin than at the very beginning?

Romina’s engagement ring has a few blue stones that make friends who knew them from school smile and ask, “Barnard and Columbia blue, right?!” Well… not quite. But not far off either. Columbia is where their paths first crossed. Peter, in gym clothes at Ferris, moving between lifts, practice, and long afternoons in Dodge playing competitive basketball. Romina, zipping in and out of Ferris for snacks between long stretches at Butler Library, then back to *other* Dodge Hall, but to the studios, covered in oil paint. Same campus. Same hallways. Different disciplines, already orbiting the same center. You could practically cue Campus by Vampire Weekend, the Columbia indie band students listened to religiously, and that album would feel like the soundtrack to those years. Today, they still return. Romina has gone back to speak on career panels for art students and mentor Barnard students finding their path. Peter has returned to speak with students exploring entrepreneurship and electric vehicles, and, of course, to cheer on the Lions during Ivy League season. When they walk into Milano Market, Peter is still remembered by the salad guys, and they still nod at Alma Mater sitting so cool after all these years. Columbia wasn’t just where they studied. It was where momentum began. And now, we invite you to sit cool with us, in a chapel. Under stone and tile. Brick by brick. Romina and Peter will build a new life together.

St. Paul’s Chapel is one of the earliest buildings designed by Isaac Newton Phelps Stokes, who studied at Columbia and at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris (a perfect primer for what’s to come). The entry porch is embellished with an inlaid marble floor and a Guastavino tile ceiling, and each column capital is adorned with a cherub’s head sculpted by Gutzon Borglum (the same artist who later carved Mount Rushmore!). Above the doorway is Columbia’s motto: In Lumine Tuo Videbimus Lumen — “In Thy Light Shall We See Light.” Light has always guided us. Our first sublet in Paris we called Maison Gnosis. From studio to court, down University Way under the lighted trees, sitting on Low steps people-watching (maybe watching each other), from Butler to Dodge, from ideas to action. St. Paul’s Chapel also houses one of New York City’s finest organs, often called the “King of Instruments.” Its sound will fill the chapel as we celebrate. And fittingly, Romina found her king, too <3