DIARY FROM MILAN
The nice thing about Milan is that no one looks at you strangely when you eat alone. Especially not during fashion week. I do recommend finding a not too fancy but an honest Italian family restaurant where the dishes and the waiters have been the same for years and where it is still an honor to serve people. I went to Rosy e Gabriele on Via Giuseppe Sirtori 26 and already felt like a principessa upon entering. When I order an Ossobuco with risotto after my insalate di mare, the waiter calls it ‘un spettacolo’ and literally jumps for joy that I dare to order two proper courses by myself. He doesn't yet know that I won't eat everything, but that will come later. I text with home and editors, read Porter magazine, and enjoy a moment of nothing. A hermit moment in a crowded fashion week suits me well. After a caffè and a limoncello on the house, I go to my hotel room to start packing my suitcase.
Once in bed, I realize that the dustbag for my Chanel bag is missing. I turned everything upside down (even my now packed suitcase) but it has disappeared. The cleaning lady probably accidentally took it with the bedding. It's up to me to explain at the reception in my best Italian a. What a dustbag is and b. That such a fabric cover is quite important to me. Fortunately, I am in Milan and as many as four receptionists are brought in to track down the bag's coat. So far no results, but I have confidence.
It's up to me to explain at the reception in my best Italian a. What a DUSTBAG is and b. That such a fabric cover is quite important to me.
When I wake up and check my Instagram account with lensless eyes, I see posts from the MaxMara show. Did I oversleep? Fortunately, they are posts from Rachel Geerman who does the hair for the show and is already at the venue at six in the morning. Thank goodness. I turn over for a moment and already have respect for Rachel. And the models. And for Carine Roitfeld who styles the MaxMara show and selects the models.
After a latte macchiato with my bartender friend (that's how it goes in Italy, go to a local place, have a chat, and the next day you're a habituée), I walk with Google Maps in hand to Via Melegari. I love to be on time for a show and to see all the beauty that gathers. MaxMara and I have a strong bond. Once, Nicola Gerber-Maramotti (the wife of the son of the founder of MaxMara who now runs the entire empire) won a Prix de la Mode and we clicked and kept in touch. Moreover, I particularly love their classic brand that they manage to keep very modern in their modest way. They don't shout from the rooftops that Karl Lagerfeld designed for them or that Carine Roitfeld always does the styling. Understated chic with a contemporary edge, that's MaxMara from camel coat to golden shoe.
I have a beautiful spot next to the editor of Vogue Taiwan who has even brought a chihuahua-Prada boyfriend for my new bag. Together for a photo and the spettacolo can begin. Beautiful oversized coats with subtle prints, golden shoes, and especially those signature dresses made of tightly woven wool. So beautiful. The hair is loosely ‘tugged’ into the coat and for the makeup, Tom Pecheux has chosen a neutral look with a pronounced burgundy lip that looks especially beautiful on top model Lindsey Wixson. If anyone has the mouth for it, it's her. Also walking are Sasha Luss and the Dutch Saskia de Brauw and Benthe de Vries, who you could call the younger sister of Saskia. Carine is very charmed by Benthe, so if Carine is in charge, Benthe walks, it's that simple.
I have a beautiful spot next to the editor of Vogue Taiwan who has even brought a CHIHUAHUA-PRADA BOYFRIEND for my new bag.
After the show, I walk for a quick visit to the showroom of Tosca Blu. Actually, tomorrow is the press day, but since I'm flying tonight, I can already take a look and touch all the beauty. Being cost-conscious as I suddenly am, I walk towards the metro to go to my hotel. But the metro station is right in front of the Cos store. And today, a sweater in my size is being delivered there. Well, I'll just grab that to then, very obediently, take the metro for €1.50.
In the hotel, I order an insalata caprese and a mint tea and get to work very hard. After that, I check out, inquire once more about my Chanel friend (still not surfaced), and walk out of the building. Does he need to order a taxi? Asks the friendly hotel manager. No, my friend is waiting outside, I call out to him not to let him know that I, god forbid, am taking the metro. Sleeping in the Diana Majestic and traveling by metro. That's an incompatible combination in their eyes, so I won't tire them with it. Like a true Milanese, I hop from metro to train to shuttle bus and now I'm ready to board the easyJet plane. No glamour for a moment, but hey, that's in my heart. And in my suitcase.
