I am now officially ready to go home. In fact, I cannot wait to go home and the reason is a fabulous Valentino jacket. I had been thinking about it since I first saw it a few days ago and today I took it home with me, skipping one foot above the ground, swinging its paper bag and already, if only figuratively, clutching it to my chest like a new puppy dog (no offence to William and Victoria of course. All puppies grow up after all).
It is a fabulous pink and lilac mohair piece that is going to look super-fabulous back in gunmetal England, especially with one of my extra large vintage brooches pinned to its lapel. I mean, look at it, if only you can divert your attention from the rather vast expanse of my flesh and punch-in-the-eye, over-zealous flash:
It seemed only logical to go back home with a proper Italian piece in the bag; who goes to Milan or its proximity and comes back with absolutely nothing? Rick bought himself three beautiful pairs of trousers and for a fleeting moment I too wishful-thought to be a thin man who can carry off straight-legged pants with the aplomb of a shop mannequin. I am just no way near toned, or thin, enough.
Which brings me to the next, slightly worrying, point. I had to make another pit-stop at the Lindt mega-store because... well because... Rick wanted to pick up a little something for his colleagues and so I added a few more bits and pieces (pic only indicative of bags’ actual content).
Blast, this place alone is worthy of another plane-hop before the Christmas season is upon us. Seeing that a friend of mine’s birthday is fast approaching, I thought that a red patent bag was in order for her. All you can see right now is this:
but, trust me, it is adorable and properly Italian. She is going to squeal when she opens it. Still, what I leave behind is equally fab; incredible cashmere wraps from Loro Piana, chocolate-like bags from Bruno Magli and Vicini, amazing shoes such as Stuart Weilzman, Les Tropeziennes, Giuseppe Zanotti, Marc Jacobs, Ferragamo, Christian Lacroix (double-beautiful in intricate rhinestone patterns), ornate dresses by Blumarine and Cacharel, tartan kilts from Les Copains, silk underwear from La Perla, exquisite silk scarves at Trussardi... oh thousands, thousands of beautiful things, my head is reeling with sexy, fashion-inspired imagery. I am a marketer’s dream me.
At lunchtime we were discussing Louis Vuitton and Hermes bags and for no particular reason I chuckled to myself in a rather peculiar flash-forward of opening a gigantic orange box strung together with a chocolate ribbon, a green Hermes Birkin bag sleeping inside. Gah, if only I won the SuperEnalotto tonight... that’s over 63 million Euros. I know they have a Hermès past security at the airport.