Off the back of having spent two glorious months in Italy (and finally being over a case of horrendous jet lag) I’m getting to reflect on the life-changing trip to Italy I just experienced.
Now I could tell you about the picturesque orange groves which surrounded the town I was based in, the delicious pasta I indulged in each day, the unparalleled creative breakthroughs I had whilst there, the gorgeous man I met on only day two of a two month trip, the bloody book I wrote, or I could tell you about the clothes… Because, let’s face it, the best part about travelling (well actually, life) are the clothes we find along the way, right?
In my case shopping overseas usually means scouring vintage & secondhand markets, boutiques and charity stores. This is a fabulous way to get to know a place and part of why I believe that secondhand style leads to a more magical life. Though whilst away I was cheeky enough to push the edges of my 80/20 rule and indulge in some new designs too.
Living out of a suitcase isn’t easy and Italy was only act one of the three-part, creative nomad set up which I am now in the midst of. Right now, post Italy, I’m situated in New Zealand for two months (in the dead heat of summer) and from February I’m (unexpectedly) headed to LA. What I’m trying to say with this is that what I’m able to acquire as I go is actually quite limited at this moment of time, yet somehow, suitcase life or otherwise, new clothes & accessories seem to find a way to me.
So what did I actually buy whilst away? Well, more than you’d think. Though to set the scene, said trip was based around the rural town of Milis, in a BlueZone in the middle of Sardinia. I was there doing a writers residency and completing a book manuscript (rather hard work despite la dolce vita on Instagram). Essentially it was to be a working holiday based in a picturesque part of the middle of nowhere: hence not much shopping was on the cards for the bulk of my stay. So in order to get my shopping fix I made sure to bookend the countryside with some city-breaks. Starting with Milan.
Oh, Milano. Firstly I’d never been to the place, but adored it the moment I stepped off the plane. My fellow passengers from the flight couldn’t have been more becoming, thus the baggage carousel made for fantastic people watching. Imagine a bunch of men like Stanley Tucci and a bunch of women like Monica Belluci. A far cry from the sun-damaged Sydney-siders in activewear, or bolshie Melburnians in desperate need of vitamin D and a splash of colour, who I’ve become accustomed to seeing day-to-day (I hope that observation lands with firm dose of humour).
Anyway… Milano is fucking fabulous, just like it says on the package. Chic streets, boutiques to boot, stylish people absolutely everywhere. Dare I say I think it trumps Paris as the style capital of Europe? Not to mention the locals supposedly sustain themselves on daily bowls of pasta and copious about of cigarettes yet remain incredibly slim and unwrinkled. Dear god, why am I not Italian?
Shopping-wise I got off to a great start. My partner in crime was Alice Edgley, a fashion designer from Melbourne (more on fabulous her later) who happened to be gracing Milan at the same time as me. She had done a lot of where-to-go research before we got there, a relief as I had done next to none.
We had our first rendezvous at the Wes Anderson-designed cafe on the cusp of Fondazione Prada. When in Rome/Milan. After nibbling on food and throwing back coffee I was ready to go despite my rather exhausting journey across the world the day prior.
Alice then lead the way to the Marni outlet, a store as chic and aspirational as one which might have been vending at full price. The store itself wasn’t the least bit intimidating and scary though, like those high-end boutiques can often be. Instead it was welcoming, comfortable and cool, like a little gallery.
I’ve always loved Marni, and a lot of other fab people do too. Boundary pushing design mixed with a disdain for trends always wins when it comes to fashion you want to buy (other equivalents would be Paul Smith or Dries Van Noten). Not to mention Marni makes lots of mid-century nods.
Not intending to buy anything upon entering, I spied a classic, black handbag as soon as we got inside the store. It called me over, I couldn’t resist its pull. Meanwhile I’d been thinking to buy my first designer handbag, or a piece of jewellery, with a part of my book advance so I had a momento from that achievement.
Thought as I had been considering investing in a designer bag I’d felt icky about logos and ridiculous prices. I am such an Anglo-Saxon snob that no matter how far I go I just can’t bring myself to max out a credit card for the sake of ostentation (that’s until I can afford a Kelly). I’m sorry to be a bore, but is there anything less stylish than a double G, double C or LV atop a brand new bag? How predictable!
Yet this little Marni number was calling my name.
The bag itself wasn’t my usual pick either. Simple, long-strapped, black buttery leather, nipple-pink suede inner, a style so simple it verges on boring (aka classic). As it stands I have an overflowing accessories cupboard (which is currently in storage) brimming with novelty designs and vintage purses galore. Designers like Charlotte Olympia and Lulu Guinness feature heavily in my current collection as they have always been my comfort zone - aspirational, (almost) affordable, designed with a sense of humour, proudly British... Yet I didn’t have this Italian bag I saw before me. A bag which could be worn anywhere, with anything.
So I bought it.
I’ll remind you this was an outlet store, so the sting was reduced by 50% (thank the fashion gods because fuck me, it was expensive). In any case, over-spending aside, I think it might have been the best money I’ve spent on fashion in a long while.
The best part is the style of the bag is so classic that it nods to both the 50s and the 80s, so it works perfectly with my preloved wardrobe. Here is a picture of me and my new bag baby (mother and child are doing well) in transit together:
in Paris
in Sicily
in Rome
All of the above exemplifies why I love hunting for clothes (or bags) the way I do. The evocative nature of vintage or thoughtful design makes for much more storytelling. Precisely why I’ll be sharing season two of my podcast with you all soon.
More tales from Milan, Paris, Rome, Sardinia and Sicily will trickle out later. Until next fortnight…