In early June you keep the windows open and the shutters shut, at night the breeze blows through the curtains like a soothing lullaby. Urban sounds like the tram and the cars, people chatting and smoking a last cigarette before going home, the neighbor cleaning up the kitchen table is part of the deal, because yes, he, too, keeps the windows open.
Life extends from the inside to the outside: we hang clothing to dry outside the balcony, some of the most romantic love songs that celebrate love involve a window or a balcony, like the one by Jovanotti that says: “affacciati alla finestra amore mio”, that is ‘come to the window my love’.
So yes, it’s like in the movies. In America we arrive home and finally lock ourselves in, we don’t want anyone intruding, life goes on inside. In Miami, heat and humidity force the lockdown and natural forces mandate survival skills: or air conditioning or life.
In Milan there is the tram.
The cables suspended between the sanpietrini (the typical narrow street stones on the city) and the rooftops, its tracks on the streets are what make it “la Milano da bere”, the quintessential Milan. Life flows outside: you sit in the wooden bench, butt to butt, listen to the usual complaints about the Mayor, the soccer referee (if it’s Monday and winter), this year it was all about the EXPO or the validating machine that doesn’t work as well as the line at the post office where you must pay the cell phone bill (oh yeah, convenient).
In Milan, you end up meeting exuberant and talented fashion designer Marianna Cimini, a regular subject on Scott Shuman’s website and finally buy her famed Ballerina dress.
In Milan you visit 10 Corso Como and find yourself face to face with Mr. Azzedine Alaia attending the dinner the two Sozzani sisters honored him with for the launch of his perfume line. Then, just because you seriously cannot break the front and crash the event, you go upstairs to the Galleria Carla Sozzani where an exhibition of photography of the Futurism era and a special production of Salvatore Ferragamo’s masterpieces greet you ensconced from the crowd. From Marinetti, to Depero, to Pinocchio to the best sole creations of the artisan of our dreams called shoes.
You walk in via del Gesu’ and stumble upon handbag designer Corto Moltedo in front of his boutique and then proceed to Cova and have the best coffee in three steps: pay, present your scontrino at the counter, the coffee arrives and the cold milk is there.
These things are normal in Italy, but are not when you don't live anymore in Italy and you realize that you miss them.
It's all about the simple things.
Along the Navigli, the Darsena has been cleaned up and dressed up with its best Sunday’s dresses. It became such a destination that it looks like a Carnival parade. The Navigli though are still filled with the most intriguing places for treasure hunting like a store of vintage records, vinyl, CD and cassettes, a used books cove and a special couture like boutique called Davide Gallo (pictures came so blurry that I can't post them, but he has the most exquisite leather accessories).
In Milan, you cross town to a once abandoned industrial area and find a gilded tower called the Haunted House (la Torre degli Spiriti translated in English with a double entendre) that belongs to the acclaimed Fondazione Prada. Personal perception: the hype we got in the US, through media and social media channels, about the new venue was more exaggerated than its acceptance in Milan (at least in my circle of trust).
Did I love the collection? I have seen better and more complete ones, this is the downside of living in Miami and having access to the top private collections of the world.
Was I impressed by the structure? Absolutely.
Did I enjoy Bar Luce designed by genius director Wes Anderson? Yessir.
Staying with the art subject, I paid an impromptu visit to the Museo del Novecento and the intrigue and interest grew with every floor we were walking up on the enveloping spiral staircase that reminded us of a miniature example of NYC’s Guggenheim. Most people stop by the restaurant for its stunning views of the Piazza del Duomo and la Galleria and then, stop. The museum’s pieces carried on with a certain narrative that accompanied me all through my Italian visit: Italy at the cusp of the 1900’s.
Summer calls for book readings (last year was D'Annunzio, this year I ended up tripped for Oscar Wilde) , aperitivo under the stars, free toes and long warm conversatons accompanied by the cicadas.
What does your summer call for?
