At 100 years old, Anna Possi still starts her day the same way she has for more than six decades — by brewing espresso at dawn for her neighbors in Nebbiuno, a lakeside town in northern Italy. She’s been doing it since 1958, when she and her late husband opened Bar Centrale on the main square. Today, she’s recognized as Italy’s longest-serving barista, and this year, the Italian government awarded her the honorary title of Commander of the Republic.
When I reached her by phone, she was brief and to the point. “I have a customer,” she said. Even at her age, Possi still works 12-hour days, seven days a week, from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. “Sundays, Easter, Christmas — I’m never on holiday,” she added later. For her regulars, that’s not just a boast; it’s a promise.
Bar Centrale has been a fixture of Nebbiuno’s social life for generations — a gathering place for locals, tourists, and the occasional celebrity. In the 1960s and 1970s, it was a hub of energy and modernity, a bar with a jukebox and foosball table that drew young people from surrounding towns. “They came here to mingle, to dance,” Possi said. “We were the most modern bar in town.”
When her husband died in 1974, she ran the bar alone while raising their two children. “Since Dad died she never wanted another relationship,” her daughter, Cristina, said. “She focused on us and on work.”
Those decades — the 1960s through the 1980s — were, she says, “the most beautiful years.” AC Milan stars like Gianni Rivera and Fulvio Collovati once stopped by for coffee. The bar’s style, its warmth, and its place at the center of town life made it a landmark in its own right.
But even as the years and fashions changed, Possi’s habits never did. The jukebox is gone, replaced by a bookshelf where customers can trade novels or read over their cappuccino. On Sundays, she bakes apple pie for her guests. “With me still serving, today we are known as the vintage bar,” she said.
Possi’s small act of consistency — showing up, serving coffee, listening to her customers — has made her a kind of civic institution. She’s not nostalgic, though. In her downtime, she sits at her computer to read the morning news or check the stock exchange. “I read everything,” she said. “I still want to learn and better understand things.”
Possi’s presence behind the counter feels like a reminder of another era — one where community meant proximity, and a good cup of coffee could anchor an entire neighborhood.
Asked if she ever thinks about retiring, she just laughed. “No,” she said. “As long as I can stand, I’ll serve.”
