Italian Vogue When I moved to the French Riviera and first visited the infamous Friday market in Ventimigglia I was not looking for contre façon fake LV stamped bags or double C scarves. Non! ma chères, my bee line destination was to the nearest news stand. Here not only could I find the very latest edition of Italian Vogue but find it at less than it cost me in France. Later on moving to Garavan, to my delight it became even more accessible in the press shop one hundred meters from my flat a few yards over the other side of the frontier. This was even more satisfying; to pay less than had I walked the short distance in the opposite direction to the nearest news stand in Menton France. Now I am not just talking just about la mode here but about page layout, photography, creative interest leaping from every page. Never mind that I don’t as yet speak Italian it looks beautiful. Even a page of text becomes art. The mise en scene flowers into wild roses along with the wonderfully eccentric Anna Piaggi whose eclectic brilliance somehow makes us throw caution to the wind and embrace the unexpected. It is characters like her and the almost forgotten Siki de Somalie that break the rules and lift the taboos of style and for me like Muccia Prada and the superlative original creations of Pucci never cease to surprise and delight.
By the way, if it is true Italian police men all take their uniforms to their tailors to be specially fitted then it does not surprise me; if you have not done so already check out the version L’Uomo.