It’s no lie that Italian men are clingy as fuck. I’ve had my fair share of them over the past few years, and after one date you’re practically engaged to be married. It’s nice for someone like me, who doesn’t like to put any effort into dating, but after a while their endless attention becomes suffocating. Somehow I always end up going back to these Mediterranean men though, probably because they’re super hot and dress to perfection.

 

In the same way American girls run from creepy Italian guys at a club, fashion editors are always trying to avoid the Milan stop on the “Fashion Month” tour. Italian fashion is often put on the back burner and regarded as too basic, but when cities like New York and London roll out some iffy trends like they did this season,

you can always count on Italy to deliver that same timeless, classic silhouette.

 

When thinking of great Italian designers, obviously big names like Prada, Versace and Armani immediately spring to mind.

 

However, there is a handful of newcomers to the Milan Fashion Week schedule who are reviving the city’s aesthetic, which has been considered dead for the past decade or so. Vivetta echoes Elsa Schiaparelli with her surrealist prints and quirky collars, while print master, Massimo Giorgetti, has revamped the Pucci label. The Milanese star of the moment, Gucci’s freshly appointed Alessandro Michele, continues to amaze each season with his pastiche of vintage inspired looks.

Already familiar with Milan, due to its close proximity to our past university in southern Switzerland, Christina and I called up one of our closest Italian man friends to host us for the weekend. True to Italian form, Ricardo wined and dined us for a couple days, and occasionally we forced ourselves out of his apartment to take these photos. For our shoot, we looked to the time period when Italy first established itself as a fashion capital through movies like La Dolce Vita and Roman Holiday. As Christina snapped away on her camera while I posed, an Italian woman swiftly rode by on a bicycle. “Che bella, anni ’50!” she cried, understanding our references to a more alluring age. “That’s sooo cute, because she’s not a creepy Italian man!!” I squealed.

No Comments

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.