When we first moved here in January of 2010, I was engulfed with the desire to sample all that Milan had to offer. I wanted to get all the touristy things checked off my list so that I could say I had seen it all and could then commence my life here as a local with some knowledge of this city under my belt. In February that year, I learned Milan fashion week was on and I searched online for a number to call to get tickets to one of the plethora of shows being put on around the city. How groovy would it be to sit and watch skinny well-dressed people strut in high-street fashion but clearly, I had no clue that only the elite of the elite get to go to these shows and that they are not a public event for commoners, like me. I rang an office for which I found a number and inquired where I could get tickets for a fashion show. I was asked if I was with the press or if I was working in fashion. Though I would love to work for the press and be a writer one day when Little Miss Stubborn and the Albino Hulk (or I!) grow up, I was only a mommy-blogger and hence had to say no to her first question. To her second question, I looked down at what I was wearing and perhaps had I been skyping with her, she could have seen and understood the urgency with which a visit to a fashion show might have helped me through the non-vogueness I was currently netted in. I replied no again. Her annoyed voice informed me I was not able to get tickets because attendance at these events was by invitation only. Foolish me! My naivety really makes me laugh sometimes and perhaps I also gave the surely well-dressed, well-groomed, and well-manicured staff around that office a good hoot when we disconnected and the girl I spoke with shared my faux-pas request to her. My outre lameness was surely ‘so’ pret-a-porter, (and by lame, I’m not referring to the metallic shiny fabric and yes, I had to google an online fashion dictionary to get some of these words).
Fast forward three years and I still laugh over this incident. I felt so green in Milan then because we were so new and literally every thing we set out to do was paved along a learning curve. Over time, I learned just how ‘prestigious’ these events are and now that I’ve finally had the privilege of going to a fashion show this past February, I howl even harder at my attempts at getting tickets upon our arrival.
Recall I mentioned a while back that my hair was now being seen and calmed by a Scottish hair whisperer named Chris. Over time, we have gotten to know each other more and he’s not only tamed my tresses in ways that I am not capable of, but he’s also fun to share a beer or two with. My fashion guardian angels were watching me from afar because one day, Chris asked me if Ania and I would be interested in seeing a fashion show during this latest fashion week. Does the new pope like wearing his papal hat?!!! Silly questions yield obvious answers.
The day arrived and nothing made me feel more like a lady of leisure than ushering the kids to school a little early so that Ania and I could go and enjoy a typical italian breakfast. Once the brioche’s were ingested and cappuccino foam was all scraped out of the cup, we sashayed over to the venue hosting the show. The designer we were to see was Kristina Ti and though we were just slightly giddy about being there, we made sure to keep cool and smooth like my frizz-free coif and the hip people around us. We met up with Chris and awaited our turn to be allowed into the hall-we learned that even the seats at a fashion show are prioritized in importance. Our tickets were for standing-room only, so we waited for everyone to filter in and sit down before we were allowed to enter. This wait proved to be an excellent opportunity in observin the fashion of the crowd. I have decided that my fashion sense is like a Margharita pizza-a safe and classical choice without crazy toppings because it comes with just tomato sauce and cheese. Some people waiting with us were like a Euro pizza which comes topped with tomato sauce, cheese, hot dogs and french fries. Or the President, which comes topped with the staple of tomato sauce and cheese, but then is accessorized with cooked ham, salami, olives, mushrooms, artichokes, anchovies, and sometimes with rocket salad. Different tastes for different people and indeed some ‘pizzas’ in the crowd would surely give me indigestion while others whetted my appetite. Within minutes we were in the hall, the lights dimmed, the music blasted and finally, the convoy of creatively-dressed people began.
The show was fun and exciting but we were surprised to see it literally lasts between 10-15 minutes, and then it’s done. The models show off their carefully draped and designed threads and just as we were getting comfortable, all the models hit the cat walk for a final strut, the designer came out, quickly waved to the crowd like an astronaut about to enter a space shuttle and the fashion-faithful audience exploded into applause all while shaking their heads in awe and murmuring ‘mahvellous! mahvellous!’, (of course I’m not serious). As we chit-chatted in the lobby of the venue before we headed back to our commoner lives, we saw the models from the show rush out draped in robes and onto a bus. It was interesting to learn that the models are essentially like contractors-they get signed up to do a show but once it’s done, they run off to do the next show that they have contracted for to be fresh canvasses for that specific designer.
All in all, it was a stupendous experience to rub shoulders with italian celebrities that I could never pick out of any crowd, watch a fashion show, and even see a confident-looking model stumble a weee bit in her heels. In the words of Borat, it was a ‘great success!’ and for it, Ania and I have Chris to thank. For all these reasons, this fashion show experience made my day and it’s also why this entry’s title is borrowed from the Old 97’s.
Lastly, I never got a chance to do an entry at all in March-will post an update in the next few days about my former uterine tenants, since it has been a little while since I wrote specifically about the Albino Hulk and Little Miss Stubborn who seem to be getting cuter and cheekier with every day. They’ve been busy with some skiing, school, hanging with their aunt Ania who was in town until today, a quick visit from grandpa, as well as a plethora of other things. No rest for the wicked in Luigi-land.
That’s a wrap!