Ciao a tutti!

So does anyone else have this problem?

When I'm in Rome I spend (way too much!) money on gorgeous clothes. I wear them, have my picture taken in them, I think they look great.

Then I get home and I wear them here and they look... not the same. I can't say they look bad, but when I look at pictures of me in Rome wearing those clothes, and then look in the mirror in the exact same thing, something is missing.

Could it be that Italian clothes lose some magic when they leave Italy? Or maybe... maybe *I* leave something in Italy when I come home--my heart, something--and that's the difference??

Does anyone else feel this way?

The problem doesn't happen with handbags, though. They seem to look great everywhere I go. :D

Teresa

:confused:

Teresa, this subject is quite peculiar. The clothes you find in the US imported from Italy you cannot even find in Italy. Its still a big mystery to me.
I saw a couple gliding through castel sant angelo this summer, and they were so obviously American --dressed up too the extreme--too clean cut and clearly foreign. But Italians dress up too, and they don't appear that way..too overdressed, why is that you ask? I have no idea. There is something strange about it all, the way they dress up and the way we do-- their clothes are different in a way,that I cannot yet explain.

I'm the opposite, I buy clothes that I think will look great in Italy, then once I'm there I feel out of place and quite plain...:o

Jacqueline,

I noticed that, too, about how Italians (and Europeans in general) seem to be able to dress up to the hilt and not look like they're dressing up. It's odd... they look great, they're wearing hundreds or thousands of dollars worth of clothing and accessories, and somehow they look... casual. I think it's the attitude they have. In fact I wrote an essay about that very thing that is going to be published 2007. I'll put it in the next post.

And I also have the same problem as Scatterbrain. I get ready to go to Italy, I buy or dig out all the 'right' clothes, I get on the plane feeling like I've got it all covered, and arrive in Rome and feel totally out of place. Usually I just figure everyone will look at me and think "oh, tourist" and go on about their day and not think about it. This allows me to wander the city without worrying about how I look.

When I want to look good, though, I go shopping!

Teresa

I've Got a New Attitude

Women in Italy wear clothes beyond sexy. Form-fitting, silky tops with tiny straps… dresses that hug their breasts, their waists, their hips… skirts that flow and drift around their legs as though at any moment they might drift away in an errant breeze… flat stomachs covered in the thinnest lace at the bottom of a shirt with a neckline that not only plunges, as they say, but also shows off to perfection breasts that are inevitably perfect… and while form-fitting, the clothes are not tight, so women’s bodies actually move as they would without clothes on at all. Which is the point

And the colors. Anything goes… the more brilliant the better, to show off to the best advantage every inch of beauty. If possible, an outfit that manages to have every color represented, with every curve and dip and hollow accented, is one to be sought. Top this off with long hair and curls – not perms but big, flowing curls – and earrings that dangle, a lot, and make noise, and bracelets that sparkle in the hot Roman sun.

These women, breathtakingly gorgeous, walk through Rome every day.

Let me tell you about one I saw today. She was tall, wearing a silk or rayon, form-fitting white jumpsuit covered with small, brightly colored, intricately woven shapes… thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders, perfect tiny waist, perfect long legs, perfect butt. She had on high heels. Her hair was long and black and thick and fell down over her shoulders like a waterfall, and it was pulled up on one side with a glittering barrette. Her earrings were silver hoops that hung halfway to her smooth bare shoulders. And she was walking along the bridge of angels (of course) over the Tiber River toward the center of Rome.

Men literally stopped in their tracks to watch her go by. Comments of “Chè bella” came from every corner. Following her was a bit daunting. While I am not, in Rome, a woman who gets tons of attention, I usually get at least some. Today, no one even saw me go by.

And she might have been alone, for all the attention she paid to the people who couldn’t stop staring. I followed her for a while, watching the flow of people part to let her walk by as she moved through the crowded streets, and I marveled at the way the world seemed to mold itself to fit her presence. And she didn’t acknowledge anyone.

Wow, I thought. What an attitude. What’s that about?

I finally passed her and saw that she was just as beautiful from the front, and on her face was a tiny pout. The kind that European models seem to cultivate. The kind that does not invite conversation but indeed, instead, discourages it.

Feeling slightly intimidated but determined, I approached her and asked her if she spoke English. She shook her head and kept walking so I told her in Italian that her outfit was gorgeous. She slowed and for a split second she looked surprised, and then she smiled radiantly and thanked me. As she walked away I saw her smile again to herself, as though she had heard something she hadn’t expected. I got the impression she didn’t know how beautiful she was, or was surprised that somebody had noticed. Impossible, but it gave me pause.

I realized something. There’s an attitude going on here… but it’s not about being a bitch, or being conceited, or being superior. It’s about simply existing and being beautiful. And the women who have this attitude glow in the sun, and they don’t care who notices.

I have a theory now. While I will never be tall, or able to wear a form-fitting silk or rayon jumpsuit quite like that one, and my hair will never be black and thick like a waterfall of curls… I think I can manage the pout. I can get the walk. I can buy some new clothes.

And if I work at it, I might be able to get the attitude. I am thinking that if I do, I might be able to glow, just a little bit.

So when people wonder what I’m doing in Rome, I tell them… I’m working on my attitude. When I get it down, I’ll let you know.

© Teresa Cutler 2006. This and other essays will be published in my upcoming book All that Glitters, available 2007.

I have seen my Italian friends and even my Italian teacher wear clothes with an uncanny sense of style. They make a personal style statement out of their imperfections, and accentuate their assets by wearing clothes that always look just right, never ostentatious but always flattering.

On the other hand I have found women of other nationalities( especially American and Indian, but not always) with a flagrant disregard for the way they look, and with scant judgment of their shapes.

I think the trick to Italians looking well-dressed most of the time is the care they put into dressing. They actually think about what they are wearing instead of tossing on something from the closet, but they do not look artful because they do not go for absolute perfection.:)

I have the same impression Teresa!!!

I can't image what will be once back in Italy...
I have a kind of londoner style now and I can see the difference...