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".  

'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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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"