Ci vediamo Milano

Out of time. I had always been there out of time. In August the heat swallows, kills, dries. The continental climate turns the peak of Summer unbearable and, like in any metropole away from the sea, the city dies. Some supermarkets close and, as strange as it may seem, some hotels too. Water, as an element, is practically non-existent. The sea is far away, there is no river and the only thing remotely similar to lakes are three channels opened centuries ago and that are incapable of hydrating our body and spirit. Add to that the unbearable sun that seems to melt the tar. It’s not famous for being pretty and, when compared with so many Italian gems, it is not. But what Milan lacks in beauty it makes up in magnificence, sobriety and cosmopolitism. And that’s what I found in May that I had never found in August. This cosmopolitan city, filled with sleek and sophisticated Milanese that, at the same time, are not very friendly. They assess our hair, our skin tone, the cut of our coat, the color of our pants and our shoes and we only receive a smile from them if we convince them that we’re worth it. To me the biggest difference in the way Italians and the rest of the world dress is that thin line that makes a certain accessory an essential item to some and something completely superfluous to others. And we can tell that from a tender age, like a cultural characteristic in all of them. Men, women, rich and poor. Most kids wear a bracelet, a necklace, a hair band or a scarf in the jacket that most English, Portuguese or French kids would consider completely unnecessary. The global village does not allow striking differences regarding a beauty pattern, a style or whatever. So it comes down to details. And that’s were these guys excel, both men and women. If you please allow me, that old slogan by Mr. Azzaro fits like a glove to describe Milan, “for men that love women that love men”. And when I think about it I remember the person that would play the dandy part perfectly. Let me present you Luigi, in one of those Augusts when I mistakenly visited Milan. Unlike August, I already miss May and from what I can see, Camilla misses it too