Sustainable is chic, the Italian way

How do we become sustainable?

We can’t handle these rhythms anymore, we are like a hamster rolling on the wheel that goes nowhere. And it’s a NEED before we all disappear and implode with Earth who knows where: a statement that maybe 30 years ago could have sounded alarmistic, and now it’s a reality.

The United Nations established the 17 global goals for sustainable living with a deadline to make them a reality by 2030. There’s so much to be done for human rights, clean waters, clean air, and sustainable living.  Some numbers: 75 mill people work in fashion and textile industry; 80% are women between the age of 18 and 24. Too many of them are exploited, victims of verbal and physical abuse, paid below standard living needs, work in precarious establishments. Yes, those are the workers who made the pants you are wearing. 

Now that you know, does that make you feel good, still?

I had to do something. I first became member of the U.N. Women Miami Chapter and you can too.

What to do NOW.

Go in your closet and simply be, look around.

Are you happy?

Does whatever you own make you feel empowered, make you look good and feel good? Is your closet inspiring when Monday morning comes and you got to get dressed for work? Do you know where your clothes come from? Are there useless purchases that you made last minute and never wore?

If you have answered NO to any of the above, there are many ways to come out of the guts.

Purge, eliminate, donate, resell, swap, consign, re-cycle, upcycle. Replenish mindfully, with knowledge, researching, sort what you need from what you want, what you should have and what you’ll need, staples, capricious,

Sustainable is sexy, not boring. Sustainable is smart and modern, mindless consumption is so 2004 that is a bankrupt concept.

“Sustainable chic” means that you can be elegant, chic, strike attention for your recognizable style with a few items of the highest quality, made of sublime materials by expert hands and skilled artisans and nobody will ever judge you if you have already worn them.

When you adopt luxury as a state of mind, you’ll twist things the Italian way

Borrow from the boys, spring edition

The boyfriend cardigan, the boyfriend jean, the blazer and its origin from military uniforms. I have worked some winter files last month, now it's time to spruce the closet up for spring. 

"Floral for spring: groundbreaking" this was Meryl Streep in Devils Wear Prada, the movie that showcased the behind the scenes of the fashion world.

When we were kids, white was first worn on Palm Sunday after the wintery dark cold months, pastel and flowers were for Easter Sunday and from there on, linens, silks, flowers, open toe sandals, frilly and voluminous transparencies ensued. I was always a disrupter, not by choice though, that's where my father appears in my life by letting me know that "we don't follow trends, we set them" after I was complaining I had to wear an hitchy hand-made sweater he had brought me from Scotland, whereas my friends were wearing Benetton. 

1. No need to leave the flowers at home, simply make it badass by adding textures, like a leather motorcycle jacket or a pair of ankle boots in a contrasting color.
2. Don't be the fashion victim, make it personal. Don't add pain to pain, flower dress with pumps, boring, think outisde of the box. Polka dot tights and a military jacket and some feathers, think Miu Miu while mixing and don't stop mixing because "what will they thin of me?". 
3. Trickle into the sartorial dress code with femininity. think of Diane Keaton in Annie Hall and don't be shy and explore the man section at the thrift store. 

1. You don't need a graphic Tshirt to remind you you are a woman. It's a superpower you are born with. The highest form of empowering energy a woman has is her vulnerability: the Archimedes lever that will help you take over. Until we let hypocrisy make us believe that we cannot cry in public or show our feelings for a child or an elderly person, we give in. 
2. Wear pants under a dress. This has been seen on the runways for this spring and intensively for the fall, it's not for every body shape, it tends to enlarge the proportions if you are minute, and elongate if you are tall, the irony of life. 
3. Flip the script, there's no #dresslikeawoman dress code.
4. Corporate attire was dead even before Working Girl but when a man asks for style advice, give profusely. 

Santa Baby's list

It’s the Holidays and we dream by the fire, walking in the winter wonderland and it’s also (always) been my birthday for over 40 years now, so I know the drill very well.

I have always had my favorite things in mind for this time of the year when Santa comes and I am dreaming of a white Christmas and a few sparkles. 

A gift must come from the heart, gotta be something you have thought about whether it's for yourself or the recipient, the thrill when opening the box or ripping the paper begins with that. Am I the only one that connects the happiness of the thrill to the expectation? I mean, when you know that the person that is gifting you waits for Black Friday to buy the gifts, chances are the act donesn't come from the heart, but the wallet. A gift doens't have to be expensive to be welcomed, you don't need to fake it and pretend you can afford it. 

I remember my grandmother would buy each one of us a gift for our birthday and it was THE one, she knew us so well that she would always hit the jackpot. As a matter of facts, she is the one that established my queen-ship in the family: my birthday was the closest (still is) to Christmas and God forbid someone tried to be cheap and combine everything in one gift of lesser value. She would set the example, 1 for birthday and 1 equally valued for the 10 of us cousins. Same for her daughters, and btw, nonno Bruno was excluded, mostly … because then, story was if she’d give him something she had to give something to her sons-in-law and that was unchartered territory. I was born and raised in a matriarchal family.

I have made a list, selected items that I would want to give myself which also mean I would gladly receive. Maybe they can also be of inspiration for you, in case you don’t know what you want or want to give.

It’s a whole happy jolly season of giving, and receiving in giving. By the end, you’ll find that sustainable, conscientious, be supportive of local and small businesses is fun and delightful.

·         Barbra Streisand is coming to Miami next week and it would be a Memory for a lifetime.

·         In honor to an imminent trip to NYC, a Chrysler cuff 

from www.vibeconsignment.com

·         Fairtrade fairy little angel from Dawn Gallagher’s website 

·         How about 1 hour free of social media or screen time per day? 365 hours = 2 weeks and 1 day of freedom = how many books can you read in 15 days? Or, how many dinners can you squeeze in 365 hours? How many fun conversations could you have about the day that's gone by? One per day? There you have a piece of sustainability: 1 hour recouperated from BSing, recycling at its best form. 

·         Want to belong to a tribe that believes in honest media? Subscribe to Holl & Lane: I can’t get enough of the mag and their Instagram account

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·         Consider a membership with UN Women. Emma Watson and Nicole Kidman have and they are working towards a world where women and girls live without violence, poverty and inequality. Even the smallest act of support adds to shifting the gloomy times are awaiting ahead of us. Have you heard of #orangetheworld in #16days or the #HeforShe campaign? There are many ways to get involved, for more inspiration look at what Somy Ali has created with No Mor Tears to stop domestic violence, child abuse and human trafficking.

·         Big earrings don’t care

·         The BOOK If you haven’t done it yet, subscribe to my newsletter already? It is coming out sooner than you think and signed copies will be available to reserve. 

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That time we ate a 4-pound chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano

Tonight in Italy is #PRnight2016 that is the night dedicated to celebrate the one and only Parmigiano Reggiano #theonlyparmesan

I accepted the investiture of Parmigiano Reggiano Ambassador as it is: a diplomatic role of story teller and in the next three months it is my intention that you all become acquainted with the Parmigiano Reggiano. It's just a cheese, you say, but it's ingrained in our culture and lifestyle, in slow food and zero mile approach to nutrition that it can be adapted to many other cultures and experiences. But as usual, you must follow some rules.

Really, the only thing I have to say is that there is only ONE parmesan, which is the one produced in the province of Parma, in Emilia Romagna (the one in the middle of boot, north of Tuscany and south of Lombardia). Parmigiano means 'from Parma'.

Why? Because to produce it there’s one rule above all that must be respected: use whole milk from the cows that live there. Very simple: soil, sun, cold, winds, trees, vegetation, seasons it’s a whole ecosystem that cannot be reproduced anywhere else.

Thinking of what parmigiano means to us, I came down to many depictions and adjectives, none of them is related to calories-count, fat content or tin container in the supermarket aisle.

CURIOSITY: Italian pediatricians recommend introducing Parmigiano Reggiano to 9 mo children for its content of calcium, protein, vitamins easy to digest.

I know some friends will be shocked or maybe even offended, “here she comes again, with the Italians do it better” but if you spar me a few minutes, you’ll get the point.

Convivial is the first adjective that comes to mind because:

1.   There’s no Italian fridge without a chunk of parmigiano

2.   My maternal grandparents

3.   My childhood

Imagine being in front of this nearly 4-pound slice from a 14 months Parmigiano Reggiano wheel at room temperature? All I can think of is a house full of people, wine and chatter, bread crumbles allover, maybe a fireplace, laughter and clicking glasses, something organized last minute, where friendship or family are more important of the formality of all glasses and plates matching.

Some of my friends and people that I have met in these two American decades of my life, had no idea THAT was parmigiano. It comes down to a cultural divide that the cheese itself will reconcile.

My story is very simple, and it’s a window to a typical Sunday in an Italian province.

After Sunday mass, we’d go to my grandmother’s for lunch, the five of us and it was a jovial and happy closure of the week (except for my father, the son-in-law, but that’s for a different time.) We’d buy the fresh pastries at the “pasticceria” and we’d make it to my grandparents’ apartment where the aroma of ragu with the bone of the “arista” simmering was mixed with the pungent smell of the shoe creams my grandpa used to polish his repertoire for the week, dark brown and black.

It all revolved around the kitchen and the covered balcony while the table was already set with embroidered table cloth and linen napkins in the living, where life was shared with a slow lunch, lots of chatter, maybe figurines, games, lots of laughter and screaming, no TV and limited infiltration of the scents of the kitchen.

When the water was boiling and grandma was ready to “buttare la pasta”, pour salt and past in to cook, my grandfather’s task was one of the best ones I have ever enjoyed: grating the parmesan to pour over the steaming pasta on the table.

The best part of that grating business was that he had two different chunks of parmigiano, quite the treat. My grandmother would always buy two different ages, 24 months to grate and 14 months “per I bimbi”, that is “for the children”.

And boy if we knew!

We would roam around grandpa like bees around the fig tree, he would let us have chunks “without anyone seeing you” (and by that he meant his daughter, aka my mother, because if we ate before sitting at the table, we wouldn’t eat the meal.) And that wasn’t it: when we’d seat at our designated post, which sometimes was a separate table just for the kids, the secret was to look on the main course plate, hidden by the pasta bowl, because chances were it was decorated by mini morsels of parmigiano all around.

Now that’s my story, a very sweet and tender one because yes my grandfather Bruno was a sort of a Santa all year round, but I am sure thousands of my Italian peeps and readers have their own grandpa version of the Parmigiano Reggiano.

HOW TO ENJOY THE 14 MONTHS:

·         Room temperature

·         Over a wooden board

·         Cut in bites

·         Enjoy profusely

·         Red wine (don’t tell my brothers, but I even go with prosecco and rose’ in the summer)

·         In the fall: pears, grapes, olives, the first sausages, artichokes or mushrooms under oil

·         In the spring and summer: strawberries and the real aceto balsamico or why not figs

·         Aperitivo and also when you have last minute friends over, remember it’s a perfect meal that provides the right amount of calcium and there’s no kid who doesn’t like it

SOME THING YOU NEVER DO (to look like a pro):

• Ask to pour it over any pasta with seafood or shellfish. That’s one of those things like asking for a cappuccino after a meal, that’ll give you the foreigner passport.
• Throw the rind away. Secret is, when you make il minestrone, the vegetable soup, you scrape the dirt off the rind and throw it in and let it simmer. You are welcome.

THE ITALIAN WAY: according to our grandmother’s recommendations, you don’t buy grated cheese punto!, because “you don’t know what they grate, they use the left-over of what they cut from the rind” and I spare you from the rest of the horrifying conspiracy theories of what we were told it was contained, but rat’s pee was the most decent.

TRUTH is the real Parmigiano Reggiano cannot contain shelf-stabilizing additives nor can be dehydrated. NOW you know why the whatever brand powdery stuff they sell in a non-refrigerated aisle at the supermarket is a sign that it’s not an Italian thing. Makes sense?

MAKE IT TO THE COMMENTS, I WANT TO KNOW YOUR STORY OR HOW THIS WILL MAKE YOU CHANGE YOUR FAMILY STORY

On why I barely wear make-up

Chapter n.7 of the book says: “Apply make-up with discretion”

I never thought that to make me look more attractive, pleasing, powerful to others I had to wear make-up, not that I was given classes or instructed, it is what I came down to believing.

What I see in the mirror is different from how people see me, and I am told it’s normal, as normal as hearing one’s voice. The first time I heard myself recorded it was like: wow, they are right, and it was in a feeling-good way. Without knowing, I was projecting a sensual me, and I didn’t know.

Same goes with (not) applying make-up and projecting simply me.

You know that question “what’s the last thing you do before leaving the house”? As per my grand-mother’s suggestion we grew up knowing we had to “brush your hair polish your shoes, because … you never know”. Not that other things were less important, those were staples like wearing our own perfume, always carrying a clean ‘fazzolettino’, a handkerchief in the purse, pockets, schoolbag, jewelry on point and a dab of Kaloderma Gelee on our hands.

There was no mention of make-up, of course we were little, but all I grasped from both my grand-mother and mother was: put the Helena Rubinstein red lipstick on either in the mirror of the elevator or the rear-view mirror of the Fiat 500 (my grand-mother was never interested in learning how to drive, that goes to show the level of royal queen-ness, she couldn’t be bothered with traffic lights and parking, she had other stuff to do, besides, she’d move perfectly and independently with her bicycle) .

Then I grew and moved to a country where I ended up living for 20 years yet still being “so Italian I don’t even know how much”.

It was another continent where women wear full-on make-up at the gym (to be honest, it was already weird enough to go be at the gym, but that’s for another time).

When I started dropping Cecilia off to school, it was another eye opener to a reality I had barely acknowledged. I would be wearing my “work” clothes which, at the time, was either Ralph Lauren or Oscar de la Renta, and no make-up while the moms were full-on stage make-up and velour tracksuits (yes, that was Juicy Couture galore) at 8 am. I still didn't get it as, I am sure, they didn't get why I was all dressed up and no make-up, it was for both sides a nonsense. 

Am I lazy? Maybe. Or maybe it's that in the morning we have different priorities: coffee and news in silence are my sacred moment, can't deal with humanity otherwise. That 1/2 hour could very well be occupied with applying make-up by someone else.  

In my routine I have developed my own version of fast and furious make-up session, as fast as you can say altogether concealermascaralipgloss, boom, boom, boom. Which becomes a bit longer, when I have to do the grown-up gig, that includes smokey eyes, rosey cheeks and sparkly highlighter.  

This is not to demean or ridicule, I am just providing my 2 cents on another of the facets of what makes Italian style that insouciant system of putting things together.

As long as what you wear means quality, simplicity, craftsmanship, thoughtful choice, that’s luxury enough to carry it with confidence, no need for any attempt to looking prettier or more pleasing to the eyes of others.

Some may say I use clothes to that purpose instead of using products to enhance my natural beauty and conceal the bad stuff. Yes, it's a fact: I believe that when you feel comfortable within your own skin, you don't need to obsess with strobing, masking, shading, filling, injecting. Maybe I have grown to develop a certain attitude that portrays my confidence, ease and poise, but that doens't include make-up.

I dress "because you never know" like my grand-mother would say you can meet Prince Charles or in Coco Chanel's words "dress like if you were going to meet your worst enemy".  

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'In order to be irreplaceable, one must be different' - Coco Chanel 

Leandra Medine, of The Man Repeller, has her own perspective on why she doesn't wear make-up.  

The French have a ton of literature on lipstick, I utterly agree with these 5 quintessential rules of beauty by Coco Chanel that resist as eternal even after over 130 years of her birth. Lipstick, signature fragrance, aging gracefully,  individuality and love yourself first should be the ONLY five commandments (don't tell the nouns of my elementary school) a woman lives by.

I have briefly discussed it with Maria Chiara, of “La stanza degli armadi” or @clarissavintage in Instagram, with whom we are preparing a relay of posts on how to be Italian + vintage and sustainable living. One day she posted a picture sans maquillage and I caught the occasion of asking her why it is that Italians wear little make-up. And here’s what she says:

“By education, from my mother (NDR, who is French), I have never been obsessed with appearance, I have always accepted myself with my flaws and traits and, besides the creams and beauty products I have been using for 18 years, a rarely ever wear make-up.

This is what I am trying to pass on to my daughter: being before having, love yourself before being loved, taking care of yourself is first for self-respect not for appearing, but more than anything, don’t be afraid to be out of the choir.”

As simple as Maria Chiara puts it I hope that it will inspire hundreds of women and girls not to let anyone put them down for their unique characteristics.

Any thoughts?  

Hurricane Matthew: before, after and all in between

Florida has this thing (too) besides from being the state that everybody makes fun of, we have hurricanes and pretty much nothing else to brag about, except those pink sunsets.

Prepping for a hurricane is something else. 

Let me explain what’s it like to be told to wrap-up all your shit because winds and rain can wipe off your windows, car, roof, doors, power and shoes.

did you say hurricane?

They come with an announcement, the watch (36 hours to T time) and then a warning (24 hours to show time) and pandemonium ensues.

Why? Because we are in Florida, bro!

If you have hurricane shutters it’s time to put them up and then make peace with the fact that you’ll be living in prison for the next days.

The line at the gas station rivals the one at the supermarket where you also have to brave the fight for the cart. First aisle you go to, the water, is obviously emptied.

It gets physical, in my 20 years and several hurricanes I have had fully loaded carts running over my feet. Search for candles, oil lamps, batteries, because the ones you loaded the flashlights with last hurricane may be bad, but, wait, which batteries to buy? Because, bien sur, you left the house without checking, typical.

TIP: calculate 1 flashlight and candle per room, 1 gallon of water per person per day (what to do with the dog?)

Ice, lots of ice split in mini ice bags that will serve the purpose of maintaining food fresh if power goes off and freezer thaws.

Water, still water: when the time comes, fill in the bathtub with water because … you know by now.

Make sure laundry and dish washer are all done … because you know the drill.

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coming through, where's the caviar?

Then there’s the food thing.

By now school and office will be closed, the unknown is how long you will be stuck in prison. I am Italian, there’s that. Ain’t no hot dog, rice and beans, buns and corn that will cut the chase in da house. There are several reasons, one is because you can do “junk” with a certain aplomb, you can bake a frozen pizza, but you can also bake a quiche with leeks and camembert (first of the season, BTW), while younibble on brie, pears and walnuts with honey and pop a bottle of Prosecco (I know a chardonnay would be best, but prosecco has bubbles and puts everyone in a good mood), you can bake potatoes and lamb, you can make tagliatelle with lobster, you can have Zak the baker bread with butter and anchovies.

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Let them eat cake 

FACT: My “ritual” is to cook and bake while waiting for shit to hit the fan, because that’s when I unofficially start freaking out. Believe me, nothing that a few bubbles will not calm down.

That’s all the physical stuff that goes on a crescendo until when  we are in it and you realize that you ran like an ant to secure everything, you have more food that the house has ever seen in the past 6 months, and now you gotta wait.

That’s when you cross the legs and the foot starts twitching and you pour another glass of prosecco and open the book, page 42. And then "let me check if laptop, phones, iPads are fully charged" (which they are, because you checked 30 minutes ago and nobody used them).

And you go back, page 42 and you attempt to remind yourself that you promised you were going to catch up on all shows of fashion month you hadn’t been able to watch.

Why can’t you run like a maniac and then stop right now, relax and enjoy?

Because they call you from home and they ask you “How is it going? Did it pass by already?” and you have to go back at explaining how does it work and please don’t listen to whatever they are telling you on the Italian TV, and, anyways, we are stuck inside, we can’t see outside from this Alcatraz and we still have a roof and power and I was at page 42.

FACT: during the hours when what-s-its-name hurricane is supposed to hit, you have no clue if it’s really hitting where you are at, if trees are being ripped, if power poles are taken down, you are in an isolation room (or at least what looks like from the movies). 

TIP: do NOT watch the TV, they tell you "it'll kill you and we can't save you". 

FACT: when the power goes down, that’s when you can begin to freak out, legally. 

Hurricane attire: I don’t do sweats or pajama, too depressing.

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Rossella Jardini SS17 (See? I caught up with some shows)

Imagine for a moment: you are forced inside, locked in with shutters on every glass surface, literally taped with masking tape in an OCD attempt to prevent water from trickling in. You have compulsively showered one too many times (in case, you know, power goes off), it's understandable that there’s no reason to dress up, neither to slumber.

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how about being the first celebrity to wear Gucci SS17 off the runway?

FACT: AC is supposed to be blasting at the lowest temp manageable, get your winter stuff out and pretend it's the fall: cardigan, socks, beanie

TIP: when the power goes off and you are stuck with no window or door to be open you’ll remember how smart you were.

FACT: in 20 years, my first hurricane, insignificant as in cat.1 and can’t even remember the name, I evacuated after having moved the entire apartment in the only two rooms with no windows. Rookie move and I never evacuated again.

FACT: with Katrina a humongous ficus fell on my car 2 hours before the hurricane hit, and for three days it remained under. So much water had accumulated on the floor that tadpoles were born in it when the towing track removed it (in Florida we make up stuff). 

It had never happened to me that we were told: the office will be closed the next two days (which  meant a 4-day weekend) but then the same day the hurricane was supposd to hit, the first one when you did all of the above and you mind is finally OK with being in the dark and no sun you are told: we go back to work tomorrow. Maaaan, my mind doesn't go that fast, i just told you it took me all afternoon to calm down and read. 

Story short: I am still at page 42, quiche's gone, cheese is still good, prosecco finished. 

The crash of the Fashion Blogger Inc.

It happened and from the lips and the fast typing keyboards of the most commercial and ad-driven of fashion magazines, Vogue US. I'll leave this commentary of why I have this opinion on the magazine for later, because the point here is that through an article on The Guardian I have found out the news and the drama that ensued.

4 US Vogue fashion editors (who I follow on IG and admire, because honestly I have always wanted to be working at Vogue, overall) during Milan fashion week, called out fashion bloggers as:

pathetic
trolling
desperate
heralding the death of style
get yourself another business
sad women in borrowed clothes
distressing

#sorrynotsorry

But first, some factors cannot be ignored. 

There's always the generalization that hurts, because it's like "if you want to cook Italian, just add garlic to everything" because hell, no.
There are girls (and the Brian Boy guy) that have built empires and they have worked hard at it, and they pay taxes, and have collections of shoes or whatever under their name.
It must be taken into account that those same fashion editors have been flown into exotic destinations, invited to scrumptious dinners, gotten discounted runway looks. 

HOWEVER, these guys are all stylist, influencers, YouTubers, TV personalities, designers, in other words, the gods of fashion's Olympus. I can't help but wonder, if there have been different professional figures in the business for ages, now all of a sudden some social media fashionista can do it all? 
This needs a little bit of inside knowledge, but, to use the equestrian world as an example, the farrier is not the polo player and although they work together, the farrier will not even be considered to substitute a jockey, or a nurse a plastic surgeon. 

They appear as a swarm, sit front row, snap selfies, Snapchat (used as verb here), post Instastories of the entire runway to show they are indeed frow-ers, get out causing pandemonium, get snapped by the street-style photographer, change and 1) do it allover again if they are the top; 2) go home because they were only lucky to get one account. 

L e t m e a s k y o u "where's the style here?"

The collections are presented not for the crowd in front  of the venue, but to give inspiration of the moods of the next season. 

Do they even read the notes of the designer, like fashion editors do?

Are they obliged by contract to uhhh and ahhh no matter what or they'll be without a job?

Do they have an opinion, know how to formulate one and read through the looks, like fashion editors do?

I barely see a blogger at a re-see, which is when the day after you go to the showroom and get a close encounter with the whole collection, look by look on mannequins, so to hear it from the words of the artistic director, to touch and feel the fabrics, the details, the nuances, the accessories, the story. Like fashion editors do. 

OPINION: MY OWN

1. It's a practice that brought to consumerism and conesquently the polluting and un-ethical plague of fast fashion;
2. Lack of self esteem:  they all look flawless, impeccable, thin and invisible size and you are pushed to look like them;
3. they don't have their own style, they wear what they are either paid to wear, post and bring engagement up on or are gifted in exchange of posting and bringing engagement up, double perks if they are snapped by street photogs;
4. they have brought ridicule to the world of fashion, degrading the work of the designers to the It bag or It shoe;
5. they are the reason why I never introduced myself as "fashion blogger" although I blog about fashion and style, I am far away from all of THAT

Where would you find this topic in THE CHEAT SHEET OF ITALIAN STYLE? Everywhere ... but if you want me to be specific, I'd start from Chapter 1 - "The Four Keys to the Italian Way"

"The Cheat Sheet of Italian Style" at SOHO Beach House

It was a hot summer night ... I am none like Hemingway, but it was really hot, we were on the terrace of the penthouse at SOHO Beach, right above the ocean, glasses of rose' and iced water ensuing.

We were there to talk about fashion, style and Miami as a fashion hub.

I had the honor to be invited to participate to the conversation alongside with Julian Chang, a long-standing and multi-awarded Miami designer and Hadley Henriette, Managing Editor of Haute Living. 

The crowd was chic, stylish and engaged.

The conversation was relevant, how do we keep up with fashion in Miami? I posed the question because people think that because it's a never ending summer down here, we have it easy. Truth is: it's not as it seems. Yes, we don't have to deal with snow, icy rain, trains and bus, boots and scarves, but hey we miss "sweater weather" and we want to wear our furs, the colors of the season, we don't want to feel like the little cousins in the land of bananas and bikinis. 

I am still a suffragette of the change of the wardrobes from summer to winter even with subtropical temperatures and 20 years in Miami. It's fun, sustainable, saves a lot of money in last minute splurges, it makes you reveal a whole new wardrobe every six months and helps you make calculated choices when it comes to buying a refresher of the new season. 

Julian has its own staples, those fabulous, colorful, body-hugging column dresses that I like calling "tropical couture". He is too humble to admit that he produces his own prints and he manufactures everything in Miami and after so many years of doing so, he must be really good at what he does to not only keep the showroom in Miami, but to have opened his boutique in MiMo, short of Miami Modern, an original part of the city along Biscayne Boulevard that is a hustling and up-and-coming neighborhood. 

It was just after Labor Day and the question popped: white or not white? I replied as low as i could, although I had to deal with a microphone, that rules are meant to be broken. Julian was more diplomatic and fair than me: he said to go with your style and what makes you look better. In doubt, head over the boutique, where he usually peeks in more often than you'd think. The best part of it? You like a dress but not the pattern, or the fabric, he'll adapt it to "what makes you feel better". 

I mean, I wore a golden amphora caftan-like dress with my flat FURRY Lab slides which Julian chose for me. Little that I knew, it was featured on the cover of his new season's catalog which put me on the spot.

I am no model, in weight or size or heigth, I still have to make my rounds around my facial expressions, in other words, I make a lot of faces, yet I felt like the golden ticket. Now when a dress can fit such the opposite sides of the spectrum, its all in the designer. Style is also sensibility and when a designer can be so sensible, it's a winner.