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DIARY #1

Milan Fashion Week

Back in the day our fashion director Simone and I did as many fashion weeks together as possible. She always dragged me from shows to re-see's (that's where you check out the shows collection and you can play around with the fabrics and get a whiff of everything new) to presentations and then straight through to other appointments. But then I exchanged paper for print (check that out here) and our fashion weeks were merely a part of the past.

But that was then and now is now and now Simone works as our very own fashion director. So off we went. To Milan, where we've been multiple times, but never in the rain. Since we'd be saving at least five hundred euros we decided to travel in the most anti-glamorous way with easyJet. After which we took a bus (I repeat: a bus) to Milan Central Station. And from that moment on, the luxury finally kicked in.

We slept at the Diana Majestic, a classic five-star hotel that, don't ask me why, had a very nice price offer that would have us sleeping amongst all the important fashion figures. We dropped off our suitcases in our rooms (you would think we'd be staying a month if you saw the contents of those things when in fact they were theirs for just one night), brushed my hair and off we went to our first appointment. The Sportmax and MaxMara re-sees. I love these brands. MaxMara reinvented their iconic jacket in a teddy bear version long enough to reach the floor. I'm buying it next week. I have too. It might be a little bit of an investment, but it's not like you'll need anything else anyway.

Sportmax just keeps getting hipper. Their influences this time around were clearly from Marocco and the arm, but then translated into a very feminine way with the prettiest fabrics. After this show we could hear our stomachs grumbling. Let's not forget, our alarms went off that morning at six and our editor Liesbeth would indignantly say: we've been in Milan since ten thirty and haven't even had a glass to drink yet. I opted for one of my favourite restaurants: Rose Y Gabriele. Nothing over the top fancy, but an honest family run restaurant. With shiny red tiles covering their walls and a big bowl of fresh fish you pick from when you walk in. Can you picture it?

After an extremely lavish lunch (why do I always order so much?) we headed over to Missoni. For some reason they always manage to pick locations that are always a little off route. We had to be at number four. We kept searching. And calling out. We found a ballet school. a creche (which was open on a Sunday, how odd) but absolutely nothing that looked like a location for a show.

Alright, well. Number four was apparently number fourteen. We hadn't been informed too well. But luckily we were on time and we were able to check out hair stylist Anthony Turner work his magic on the girls with Moroccan Oil transforming them into Kate Moss-like girls backstage. The poor models first had to get their hair drenched in ice cold water. After quickly chatting to Dutch models Vera van Erp and Julie Homans, we watched the show and then it was time for some risotto with parmesan cheese, artichoke and champagne. Buona notte and more about Milan tomorrow....

Travel

Travel & Hotspots

DIARY #1

Milan Fashion Week

They used to ‘do’ Simone and I together as many fashion weeks as possible. She pulled me along from show to re-see (that's where you see the show's collection in real life and can paw and sniff the fabrics) to presentations and other appointments. But then I traded paper for print (look here but briefly how that all came to be) and were our fashion weeks with two verlee.

But then was then and now is now and now Simone also works for us as a fashion director. So we set off together. To Milan, where we were so often, but never in this rain. Because it saved five hundred euros, we went very anti-glamorous and both-legs-on-the-ground-ish with easyJet. And then by bus (I repeat: a bús) to Milan central station. But from then on it was luxury which struck the clock.

We slept at the Diana Majestic, a classic five-star hotel that, don't ask me why, had a really nice offer that allowed us to sleep among the fashion people. Suitcase put in the room (you'd think I was staying away for a month if you saw its contents, but it was in fact one night), brush through hair and hup to the first appointment. The re-see from Sportmax and MaxMara. I love these brands. MaxMara reinvented their iconic coat in a teddy bear version that reaches the floor. Buy it next week. Maybe a small investment, but otherwise you don't need clothes.

Sportmax is getting hipper and hipper. Influences were Morocco and army, but processed in a very feminine way with the very finest materials. After these shows, the stomach growled. After all, the alarm clock had already gone off at six that morning and Liesbeth would say indignantly: we have been in Milan since 10.30 am and have not had a drink. I opted for one of my favourite restaurants: Rosy e Gabriele. Nothing fancy, but a golden family restaurant run by three brothers. With shiny red tiles against the wall and a big bowl of freshly selected fish upon entering. Can you picture it?

After the lavish lunch (why do I always order so much?), we headed for Missoni. Somehow they have a knack of picking a location that is not quite on the route. At number four we had to be. We searched. And shouting. We found a ballet school, a kindergarten (which was open on Sundays, quite unusual), but nothing that looked like a show venue.

Good. Number four turned out to be number fourteen. Had not been passed on to us quite right. But we were on time and were already allowed backstage to watch hairstylist Anthony Turner transform the girls into cool Kate Moss-like looks with Moroccan Oil. The poor model girls had to have their hair washed first. With ice-cold water. We had a nice chat with Vera van Erp with dripping hair and Julie Homans and then we watched the show and it was already time for risotto with parmesan cheese, artichokes and champagne. Buona notte and more Milan tomorrow....