AN EXCLUSIVE DAY IN FORTE DEI MARMI

There’s a code and I think I cracked it: It only took me 20 years of Miami living to dig out how to live in the Italian riviera like a local. 

It took just one morning, the morning of the Wednesday street market in Forte dei Marmi, our version of Palm Beach, in the good season, the summer, during my trip to Italy was a revelation.

Imagine the Agnelli, Giorgio Armani at one point owned a home here too, Thomas Mann, Henry Moore, Luchino Visconti, old money and noble families populate the mansions behind the discreet gates, pines, oleanders. And then there's il Bagno Piero, the beach club of the front rowers. If you have the tent in row n.1 you have accumulated a Anna Wintour type of seniority. And then la Capannina di Franceschi, a sort of Studio 54 of the roaring '60s when Gino Paoli and Ornella Vanoni were IT. 

There’s a diffused sense of elegance, relaxed and chic, understated lifestyle made of simple yet luxurious things, there's no showing off Ferrais or Lamborghini, you actually do errands, go to the beach in the bike. The morning starts at the bar, if you want to make it posh it's Il Principe. You know there's a bar at each and every corner in Italy, you go, pay for un caffe', show the recipt to the barista, order and in a NY minute you gulp it down and leave. There's no alien language just un caffe'or a cappuccino, not a skinny latte with an extra shot kids temp, they don't need to call your name, it's a ritual, but it entails a mix of attitude and discretion, respect for your privacy, it's a question of sleekness and rapidity, when you want a coffee can't wait.  

Well, al Forte, even the barista seems a magician, they are as fast at manifesting that caffe’ as you should expect from a barista, yet the noises are tufted, voices are soft and coffee cups are china, not clunky basic ceramics. 

So here’s when the luxury is a state of mind enters in action and the whole reason I wrote the book with it. How about getting dressed to go to the market?

CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: Linen, layers of whites, gold bracelets, bicycles and wicker baskets, cashmere scarves, silk foulards, les paniers, flat leather sandals, wide brimmed hats, children in prams and nannies.

GET CAUGHT DEAD BEFORE: Wearing high heels pumps, allover logos, It girl bag, the same furry Gucci loafer that all influencers wear or any knock-off.

BTW, you will find random street sellers offering knock-offs of all the above on the curb of the street over a white bed sheet that comes handy when the police come.

WORST FAUX PAS: Trying too hard: it shows that you don’t belong, it’s not about the money and wanting to be who you are not, is never a good idea. And, no coffee to go in a plastic cup, ice cream though it's a different story, it's a cone on the go in the bike. 

WHAT TO BUY AT THE MARKET: The best items to be bought at the market in Forte dei Marmi are bed linens, bathroom parures, pajama sets all to be embroidered with initials (they place your order and the following week you come back for your personalized items); cashmere anything like sweaters, scarves, ponchos. Leathergoods, especially shoes and bags  are the best showcase of what Tuscan craftsmanship is capable of: leather, cotton, silks, prints all made in family owned looms and labs and proudly represented, generation after generation. 

DO THE SUMMER LIKE THE LOCALS DO: FIRENZE & PITTI EPISODE

I attended another Pitti.

For many it's still a dream that hasn’t happened, especially since it became the man/main event par excellence, “peacocking” included. I explain the whole story about it in the book, in the “Borrow from the Boys” chapter and I will not be repetitive.

From 1992 it evolved, changed, expanded, went online, expatriated, cancelled the woman, added a small woman representation, now cancelled it again. My “relatore” the person that introduces you and kinda mentors you through the extenuating preparation of the final thesis in university was Luigi Settembrini, the then communication director and creative consultant of Pitti.

Florence is the place where in 1957 Italian fashion was born with a defile’ in the Sala Bianca in Palazzo Pitti, where Gianfranco Ferre’ made his man collection debut, where the men socks Gallo were launched. Guccio Gucci and Marquis Pucci were home buddies. Firenze is where you breathe history, culture and fashion like nowhere else in the world, it’s the noble of the family of the fashion capitals.

This seemed the perfect backdrop to hold a workshop on how to feel empowered by maintaining your own style in the world of fashion. Part of the job of #luxuryisastateofmind and making all look effortless chic was done by the J.K. Place and its director, Claudio Meli.

What to do like an Italian, or, in other words, how not to look like a tourist.

·         Don’t confuse Pitti Immagine with Palazzo Pitti, Santa Maria Novella the train station, the basilica or the farmacia;

It's ok to walk the streets with that feeling that Caterina de' Medici will show up around the corner with one hell of a damask gown and a cascade of emeralds: it happens to the veterans

·         Scudieri is for the orange zest dipped in dark chocolate, winter or summer;

·         Ice cream is at Perche’ no

·         Don’t be stars truck, play it cool; They are all peacocks, some are fake, the real ones don’t hang out at the entrance of the Fortezza;

·         Be aware, you may find your friend from 20 years ago

·         Go local, like follow Claudio Meli’s footsteps, hang out at the J.K. Place and make yourself acquainted with "the other Florence" the artists and artesans of the sublime.

·         Don’t wear logos, branding or, for that, any cheap Zara knockoffs of logos and brands

The Cheat Sheet of Italian Style // Book is still found HERE and HERE (if you live in the UK or prefer using the Pound). 

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?