JUST as they were on a crane removing this billboard ad for high-fashion lingerie, I was walking by with my camera and had mere moments to shoot. What will they put up next to keep the construction workers inspired?
This is a large, new complex being built at the north edge of town, right around the Garibaldi metro stop.
When I rounded the corner and saw the wall of red and cream damask patterns, I skipped both a breath and a heart beat. These are the textiles I came for. These are the fabrics I prowl and lurk for at the antique fairs.
“The Thread of Dreams – Il Filo dei Sogni” is a show at the Palazzo Morando Costume Moda Immagine here in Milano. The show marks the 150 years of the Frette Linens company, 1860-2010. Absolutely gorgeous damask/jacquard patterns from the time of Frette’s beginning were gathered on a heart-stopping wall. I swooned. And then turned and strolled to look at them all.
Having been a seamstress for as long as I can remember, my heart rate really does pick up a few beats when in the presence of beautiful fabric. And, owning a red-on-cream embroidered piece from my great, great grandmother that she stitched at age 12 in 1861, I have a tremendous soft spot for that color combination. Combine those two joys and of course it was dreamlike for me to see this show!
Original hand-painted and hand-drawn designs were shown side-by-side with the final woven fabric. A pleasure to see “the hand” of the designer. (And impossible to avoid glare and reflection in the exhibit space!)
They showed overall patterns, borders, coats-of-arms, hotel emblems, nautical, floral and heraldic designs. If I were to bring home any “souvenir” from Italy, I would love to get my hands on one of these Frette fabrics, either vintage or modern day!
Why fight the reflection? Here’s a Frette self-portrait. (My sister is always saying “I want to see pictures of YOU over there,” so this is my way of complying with her request.)
Currently, Frette is known for their very sumptuous bed linens. Ooo lah lah. A damask top sheet alone can be $250 or more and the fabric is supple and luxurious to the touch.
Part of the exhibit was a “mood wall” showing ideas, sketches, fabric samples and inspirations for a contemporary collection. I appreciate that they show original pencil drawings and a variety of renditions of a given motif all the way to the final fabric.
Another part of the show was an amusing, playful sculptural installation in an homage to Frette. I delighted in it as I walked into the room and circled.
Gotta love these Italians. They had two national, Catholic holidays at the beginning of December. Then two weeks off for Christmas and New Years. Then, today is the Feast of the Epiphany, also a national holiday. (Italy is about 98% Catholic.) A lot of people took this whole week off since they were already on a two week break and why come back for two days, have one day off, and then come back for two more days before the weekend? Might as well extend the two weeks into three.
There was a parade through town for the Epiphany. Actually two parades: the official one of Magi and Wise Men, then the parade of older, Milanese women in their fur coats. I must have seen a thousand fur coats today. Boggling.
After rain, snow, cold and gray, the 45 degree day brought the crowds out. It seemed that this must be the traditional time to strut one’s fur. Amazing. I was more amused by playing sleuth photographer and people-watching than I was by the pageant of the “real” parade.
(I shudder at some of the faces of these women. Some look cold and hard.)
The furs were worn with argyle, cashmere and hand-knit. With fur hats and berets. There were full-length, knee-length, sporty-short, wraps and stoles. There were SO many women in furs, that it was comical, an exaggeration. Was anyone else noticing?
New Year’s Eve. “Capodanno” they call it here. Fireworks are going off in the distance.
Having just come back from the energy of Paris, I don’t feel compelled to go downtown tonight, but will follow my tradition of spending the evening writing. Part of that act is the reflection on the past year, and for 2009 the novelty is in the last 6 months, since I moved here to Milano in June.
When I decided to move here, I very consciously wanted to have relationships. I wanted to form friendships and know people. I didn’t want to remain on the outside surface, as tourists do, but rather touch hearts and have mine touched. I left behind my treasured communities in Seattle, and came here where I had none.
Reaching this 6-month mark, I started to think about all the people I’ve gotten to know in big ways and small. I see people at school. At some of the stores I frequent. I’ve met some while traveling. And now, even see familiar faces while just out walking in the neighborhood. I’m creating what I wanted!
Allow me to introduce you to some of the many people I’ve either enjoyed a single, rich conversation with, or have had the pleasure to create a friendship with:
JUSTINE – Kenyan. I met Justine soon after I arrived and now I shop at that store a mile away just so I can say “hello” to her. Here she is cutting prosciutto for me.
EVELINA, BRUNELLO & GLENDA – Italian. These are the three I work most closely with at NABA.
PIOTR & EWA – Polish-German and Polish. We met in the summer when our tables were an inch apart and I was eating octopus. We’ve been getting together once a week or so ever since! Eva is a Pharmacist and Piotr is a retired conductor from Teatro alla Scala.
NARIN – Thai. Architectural faculty member from Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok.
PETE & ERIN – Australian. We met on the bike trail in the morning, and they slept on my fold-out bed that night! They were biking around Europe for 6 months and relying on the kindness of strangers.
ORIETTA – Italian. Concept researcher and trend forecaster in fashion and accessories. An instructor at NABA.
LYDIA – Swedish. Lydia makes the way smooth for NABA’s agents.
DOMENICA & PAOLO – Italian. They have the Spezia Pasticceria that creates those incredible pastries I’ve shown. They’re two blocks away from me, and we met when he did a search on the pastry shop and found my blog. They make the best pastries in town.
ANASTASIA, EMANUELE & ENCARNA – Greek and Spanish. Emanuale is the Consulate General of Greece. We shared a table and the dance floor at the Thanksgiving Dinner.
ENZA – Italian. Born in Sicily, raised back-and-forth between there and Australia. She and her husband own the corner grocery where I buy my water, and we chat.
TOMA – French, but has lived in Italy for years. He’s established in fashion and teaches at NABA.
BARBARA – President of the Benvenuto Club.
BRUNELLO – Italian. Vice President of NABA.
LILY & TOM – Irish. My cousins from my family’s historic homeland in Fermanagh County, Northern Ireland.
LEE – British, but she’s been in Italy a long time. Lee’s been working in fashion for about 30 years. She was my Fashion Design instructor in 2008 at NABA.
CIRO – Italian. A One-man Chamber of Commerce for the town of Casamicciola on the Island of Ischia.
SAM, PATRICK & MOMO – French and ? These three are fishmongers down the street from my hotel in Paris. Patrick, in the middle, speaks some Spanish, so between that and sign-language, we all had some laughs.
DAN – American. From Ohio University, working with NABA. Executive Director and Professor of Geography.
EVELINA & GLENDA – Italian, though Glenda lived in the U.S. for 8 years. These two coordinate the myriad details of the NABA summer and semester programs.
LUCA – Italian. We’ve discussed “Italian Design Methodology” and the differences in teaching methods between Italian schools and U.S. schools. Luca is NABA’s Design Program Coordinator.
DIMITRI & VERA – Russian. Architects, instructors at NABA.
ENIEL – Cuban. Moved to Paris 5 years ago and speaks some of 5 or 6 languages. Loves history and was my personal tour guide in Paris.
MADALENA & EMILY – Italian and Australian. Madalena lives in the mountains near Milano, and teaches Italian language courses. Emily is a student in my class.
AHMAD – Pakistani. Living in Venice and assisting his brother with his restaurant, “Noemi”.
FRANCESCO – Italian. Architect and instructor at NABA. He’s engaging and involved with the students.
GISELLA – Italian from Sicily. She has a Siciliano bakery just down the street. Sometimes I’ll buy little regional specialties from her.
HASSAN & SEBASTIAN – Iranian and German. We’ve been in Italian language classes together.
IDA – Italian. We met at the Benvenuto Club Christmas Bazaar, which is a fund-raiser for several local charities.
JAMES – British. He’s opened up a shop here selling textiles and is taking Italian language classes, too.
ROLANDO – Italian. We met on the train to the airport. I was on my way to Seattle. He was on his way to an EU gathering of parachutists from 10 different countries. He was in the Army in the mid-60s. He pulled B&W photos of his father out of his suitcase to show me.
MARZIA & FRIENDS – Italian (Sicily), Russian and ? Marzia’s on the right and after we had gone out for “apperitivi”, we met up with her friends at another restaurant. Marzia is also with NABA.
REMO – Italian (from the south). A Materials Engineer. We’ve had some good conversations and I sat in on some of his design classes at NABA and accompanied them on field trips.
OZDAN, SEBASTIAN & EMILY – Turkish, German & Australian. In this photo, they were doing a skit in our Italian language class.
NORM & JOE – Irish. My Guinness drinkin’ buddies in the far northern reaches of Ireland.
JAN – Norwegian. He got talked into wearing a “Babbo Natale” hat at the Scuola Leonardo language school’s Christmas party.
If someone had said to me: “You’re going to Paris for a week, but the only thing you get to wear is what you wear on the plane” I would NOT have picked the following: a bra, heavy opaque tights, black polartec pants (almost sweat pants, but snug), gray cashmere turtleneck, off-white polartec pullover, a red-striped neck scarf, my “chic” gray and white striped swing coat, black beret and gloves, heavy wool socks, pearls and gore-tex hiking boots.
But that’s what I’ve got. Tomorrow will be day four, Christmas Eve and I haven’t changed my clothes since Monday. So chic! So elegant! So Parisienne! (Not even a pair of underwear to worry about changing.)
My flight left a half hour late on Monday because of the weather. Patches of snow remained on the runway, and the sky was that “looks like snow” kinda sky.
After arriving in Paris at about 12:30, all of us passengers went to baggage claim and waited. And waited. And waited. I don’t know how in the world it was possible, but NONE of the passengers’ bags had been loaded onto the plane in Milan. So, a planeload of people piled around the baggage service desk and waited to talk to the ONE person that was there to hand out forms and then add names to the claims list. I was finally walking away after two and a half hours. There was no use getting upset. I had my wallet, computer and camera. I was here for a week. I had enough clothes to stay warm. I felt badly for the people that were transferring and flying on to another country! The woman at the counter said the bags would fly out of Milan that night and be delivered Tuesday.
Yesterday I talked to a girlfriend in Milan and she said they got a half foot of snow on Monday and the airport was closed. I guess I made it out of town just in time! Needless to say, the bags didn’t make it onto the next flight.
I had been sure to have clothes both warm (for anticipated snow and cold here) and chic enough befitting of Paris. Here I am, however, in hiking boots and sweat pants. Sigh. But I DID get here before they closed the airport in Milan and didn’t miss my time in Paris. I might have to go out and buy some clothes though. It’d be nice to wear something fresh!
After a little afternoon nap, I booted myself out the door for a stroll. It was just after 3:00, the quiet time of the day in the city. A mostly gray sky with a little chill in the air. Nice to head out and wander.
Just two blocks from home, I saw my Fashion Design instructor, Lee, from a year and a half ago. I hadn’t seen her since this summer session and it was nice to chat a bit. As it turns out, she recently moved to just around the corner for me, so we may meet for coffee sometime.
I needed a few groceries, but not much. The Saturday market was likely over, but I headed in that direction anyway, and am glad that I did. There was a stillness, an ease that is certainly not there in the height of the market selling. Many vendors had already left, but the others were slowly putting away their vegetables and fruits, their cheeses, meats and household sundries. They were still just as happy to make one last sale and end the day with a few extra euro in their pockets.
The fennel looked good, and I wanted to take one home with me. No. The minimum was three. “Oh, really? OK fine. Give me three. I’ll take some cherry tomatoes, too.” And of course, he THREW them into a bag. At another stall, the green beans looked fabulous and I wanted one of the two baskets full. He heaped a “fruta e verdura” paper bag with the beans from BOTH baskets, more than I could eat in a month. Fine. I love beans. I’ll eat them every day this week. (I guess they just didn’t want to pack up anything they could possibly send down the road.)
The man that had sold me bresaola the last time I went to this market was there again. I asked for “cento grammi“, 100 grams which he sliced right then, plus some brie. Then I saw a curious, smoked something-or-other, and asked for two. It’s cheese wrapped around prosciutto and olives, with some sort of creamy sauce inside, then smoked. (Front edge of the plate in the photo.)
The flower stall still had a few options, so I bought four colors of fragrant freesia to bring home.
I left the street market and went to the main street. As I approached the grocery store, there was a vendor out front roasting chestnuts. Yes, please! I added a big handful of those to my shopping bag. A few feet away, I spotted Justin, the woman from Kenya that works behind the meat counter at the grocery. She and I have chatted a number of times, and is the biggest reason for me to shop there. Her pleasant manner and conversation make me smile. Inside, I bought a package of cheese crackers that I had discovered when I first arrived four months ago, and some chicken thighs (for which I had big plans).
Next came the Bakery. There was a pizza square with mushrooms, prosciutto, artichoke hearts, sauce and cheese that clamored to come home with me. Plus, I bought a little bun with chunks of green olives. Basta! Plenty! That was enough for one shopping spree.
Along the way home, an elderly woman in a purple jacket stopped me to ask where I had bought the freesia. Unfortunately for her, the market was long over, but we chatted about freesia and tulips and springtime and I was pleased that we could have such a conversation.
And those chicken thighs? I cooked them just like Mom used to when we were kids (60s Americana): dredged in flour with salt and pepper. Browned in (olive) oil, then drowned in water and left to simmer for almost two hours ’til they were falling-off-the-bones tender. The chicken produced the classic gravy I was looking for and was ladled over (brown) rice, served with a few of those many green beans.
It was a simple afternoon, really. Just buying a few groceries. But the fact that I see familiar faces while out-and-about-town, and can just chat with people means the world to me. These are first steps toward being IN this community even if only in a small way.
Excuse me, but, I’ve NEVER seen head-to-toe plaid on an Italian woman before. I don’t think I’ve ever seen PLAID (but you KNOW I’m going to start keeping track!) Granted, I’ve only been here 4 months, and it’s been summer time… Maybe, now that the weather is cooling, women country-wide will pull their plaid wool suits out of storage. I’ll see them everywhere. What a photo op.
And those socks! Cool combo.
That’s her husband coming toward her. I had been behind them a block earlier and couldn’t get my camera out fast enough. We shared the same route for a block! I got a glimpse of her face. Did she “look Italian”? Let me tell you, all Italian women look no more the same than all American women. (Same with the men.) Let’s squelch that myth right now!
OK. I want all the men I know in the U.S. to go out and buy orange pants! I’ve seen 5 men in 5 days wearing orange pants. They’ve ranged from fluorescent bright to muted salmon. One guy was even toting an orange messenger bag to match. I haven’t been quick-on-the-draw with my camera, and didn’t realize it was a trend and fashion statement and that I’d be wanting photos. But after 5 guys, I’m going to keep my eyes open for blocks away and follow the next set of orange legs going down the road!
You could all be trend-setters in the U.S.! Tell people it’s what’s hip in Milan!