MONDAY
Revisions with Raphael Lopez, famous fashion designer, leave every single fashion student lying on the ground with our guts hanging out. A few of us go out to apperitivo (aka happy hour) and 3/4 of the conversation revolves around our dramatic revisions. Everyone has a story to tell. My personal story: Raphael scoffed at my purse shaped like a strawberry. “Un Borsa Fragola, ha!” Can I help it if my style is whimsical?
The project is on the femme fatale. We are to create our own version of the femme fatale. However, the character of the femme fatale is contrary to everything I stand for. In addition, the typical clothing style of the femme fatale is opposite to my personal style. I thought the key to the project was making it personal, but after the revisions I feel like they want us all to be part of a pre-made femme fatale mold.
TUESDAY
The morning lecturer is one of the project leaders who is assisting Raphael. She begins her lecture by giving an overview of Monday’s revisions. My borsa fragola makes it into her comments. “For instance, the femme fatale would never carry a strawberry purse, ” she says. I don’t take it personally.
The Salone di Mobile, one of the biggest furniture/design fairs in the world, begins today in Milan. It’s a one-week event, and the whole world is here. The Accessories majors were assigned their project: go to the Salone and design 6 bags from whatever you see that inspires you. This is my dream assignment. Meanwhile the fashion students are bogged down in a project that keeps us from the most important design event in Milan.
I throw off my responsibilities and attend the kick-off party. A box that I helped create is displayed in the Domus Academy area of the fair. The party is fun, and I look like Alice in Wonderland gone monochromatic.
WEDNESDAY
All project progress is stopped by lectures that could be scheduled some other time. The afternoon lecture leaves me feeling claustrophobic because of the absurdity of the “small in-class project” vs. the mountain of work I have ahead of me. However, a mention of a famous dancer from the early 20th century inspires me for both my big project and the small in-class project. During the presentation of this mini project I announce to the class that if I could, I would dance in the street for money, a street performer like in the 80’s movies. One classmate interjected, “A stripper?” I decline that suggestion.
I walk over to Duomo to run some errands and want to strangle all the people walking slow in front of me. I am in a bad mood. This project is making me very violent, and I have begun to swear in Italian in my head. It doesn't help that my closest friend Alessia swears all the time in both English and Italian. During project 3 I nicknamed her "Cusser." She didn't know what it meant before, but now she is proud of it.
Pete moved out today due to space complications that were occurring over a month ago. Pete has become my good friend, and I sorely miss him already. Sylvana is gone a lot so he’s the one with whom I talk. Plus, he downloads episodes of the Office.
THURSDAY
Fashion students attend an all-day trend seminar that is part of the Salone Di Mobile. I am sitting there trying not to be nervous about the project that is waiting for me at home.
I fall in love with Sam Buxton, a guest speaker at the event. Reason 1: English accent, Reason 2: when describing the design for which he is the most famous, he uses two of my favorite words “miniature” and “theater”.
FRIDAY
I work on the project all day but feel as if I get no where. The wind has been taken out of my sails. And as I talk to my fellow classmates, they feel the same way.
Danielle, a British classmate, turns 22 today. (Do I feel old? Yes, some days.) She has a party at her apartment. I think it’s foolishness to plan a party when the Salone is going on. The Salone turns into party central at night. I go to Danielle’s party out of obligation to a classmate, but the entire time I want to go to Zona Tortona where things are happening. My time is limited with this project, so I want to maximize my fun time.
Danielle is petite, blonde, and feisty. She is one of the most sought-after girls at Domus even though she has a boyfriend. Despite this fact, there are only 3 boys at the party. Boy 1 is gay,
Boy 2 is that guy from class who’s always around,
Boy 3 (who showed up quite late) is the guy that all the girls in school are after. I see the competitive claws come out when this guy walks in the door, and I immediately avoid the situation altogether.
The one saving grace about this party is the music. Lauren, who has good musical taste, is running the ipod, and I just lose myself in the dancing. Most of my classmates have never seen me dance so I immediately become a spectacle. At one point I am dancing and everyone else is standing around clapping. The guy from class who’s always there says, “When you dance, it’s the purest part of you.” He is very spiritual about it. Alessia says, “From now on when you say, ‘I just want to dance,’ I will know what you mean.” (I give credit to Paulyn’s and Dance-in-the-living-room studios for making this possible.)
SATURDAY
I work on the project all day. At 6 I go over to Zona Tortona to see some of the exhibitions. I can’t believe we are missing this. There are some amazing things to see.
SUNDAY
Work, work, work. There’s another revision tomorrow, and I’m just hoping Raphael doesn’t tear me apart. I may not have enough time to finish the project the way it is. (Which begs the question: why are you writing a blog, then?) Please pray for me, friends.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
I can't take credit.
I can't take credit for this. I found it on Flickr under the title "Warm Bacon Machine." Classic.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Dead to me.
I have a new saying:
Italian women want Italian men; Italian men want every woman they can get.
I saw the babies in my classmate Sylvia’s eyes when she said she wants to marry an Italian man. She's Italian, and I’ve come to find out that most Italian women want to be with an Italian. I guess there is something about the attitude and machoism of Italian men.
However…
Italian men cheat on their women. It’s almost a given, as if the boys are raised to cheat. They even have a hand signal they use amongst their friends, a gesture of disrespect. They use it to subtly say, “I’m disrespecting my wife.” The use of it gains them more respect among other males.
I hate to stereotype, but the more I see of this country and its people, the more I believe this one to be true. I have 2 prime examples amongst my own friends.
Two of my Italian girlfriends from school have boyfriends that they know are involved with other women. Girl 1. walked into her relationship knowing, in fact she was more of the mistress. The man was engaged and living with his fiancé. Girl 1. said her boyfriend was unhappy in his other relationship and wanted out. Girl 1. and her boyfriend have been dating for two years, and although he claims the other relationship has ended, he still hasn’t moved out of the same house as the former girlfriend. The old girlfriend knows nothing about Girl 1. Keep in my mind that my friend is very beautiful, smart, and probably the most talented student in our class. But somehow she finds herself staying in this relationship. Everything in me wants to yell at her to get out. The second girl in the same situation is also very beautiful and talented. When people ask her where her boyfriend is on a weekend night, she openly claims he’s with his other girl. For some reason she sticks with him.
All this has led me to a general distrust of Italian men. But as I began to think of it, there are a lot of regions of the world where men are commonly have mistresses. These are also places where women are disrespected in general. I know cheating happens in the States, but it seems to be a private and shameful thing. It also seems to happen more on both sides. In Italy women are expected to be monogamous, and the men are applauded for having mistresses.
There's definitely a sickness here.
Italian women want Italian men; Italian men want every woman they can get.
I saw the babies in my classmate Sylvia’s eyes when she said she wants to marry an Italian man. She's Italian, and I’ve come to find out that most Italian women want to be with an Italian. I guess there is something about the attitude and machoism of Italian men.
However…
Italian men cheat on their women. It’s almost a given, as if the boys are raised to cheat. They even have a hand signal they use amongst their friends, a gesture of disrespect. They use it to subtly say, “I’m disrespecting my wife.” The use of it gains them more respect among other males.
I hate to stereotype, but the more I see of this country and its people, the more I believe this one to be true. I have 2 prime examples amongst my own friends.
Two of my Italian girlfriends from school have boyfriends that they know are involved with other women. Girl 1. walked into her relationship knowing, in fact she was more of the mistress. The man was engaged and living with his fiancé. Girl 1. said her boyfriend was unhappy in his other relationship and wanted out. Girl 1. and her boyfriend have been dating for two years, and although he claims the other relationship has ended, he still hasn’t moved out of the same house as the former girlfriend. The old girlfriend knows nothing about Girl 1. Keep in my mind that my friend is very beautiful, smart, and probably the most talented student in our class. But somehow she finds herself staying in this relationship. Everything in me wants to yell at her to get out. The second girl in the same situation is also very beautiful and talented. When people ask her where her boyfriend is on a weekend night, she openly claims he’s with his other girl. For some reason she sticks with him.
All this has led me to a general distrust of Italian men. But as I began to think of it, there are a lot of regions of the world where men are commonly have mistresses. These are also places where women are disrespected in general. I know cheating happens in the States, but it seems to be a private and shameful thing. It also seems to happen more on both sides. In Italy women are expected to be monogamous, and the men are applauded for having mistresses.
There's definitely a sickness here.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Breakin Free!
Easter break came, and it was my first good opportunity to leave the Milan and explore ITALY. I began the time off with Pete and Roberto in Rome and met up with Maria when P & R went to Tuscany. Maria and walked our bums off in Rome (we don't need no public transport) and then went to Florence for 2 days.
Jumping Jacks at the Parthenon
Things I learned over Break:
1. I LOVE ROME.
I love it, I love it, and I want to go back. It’s packed with tourists, but for some reason I didn’t mind. The beauty around every corner made up for it. My favorite site was the Trevi Fountain. Legend has it that if you face away from the fountain and throw a coin in, you’ll return to Rome. If you throw two coins in, you’ll fall in love with an Italian. I regret that 2nd coin.
Below is one of my favorite pix of the trip. Please note the couple on the right. The entire time Maria and I were at the fountain they were facing away from the beauty and violently kissing eachother. It was painful. They left after the popperazzi began taking pictures. So if you want to see the other pix, just ask.
2. A TRATTORIA is an old style Italian café.
Roberto, a native Roman, took Pete and I to an out-of-the-way trattoria in Rome. Roberto said there was a good chance they’d never had foreign customers. We saw the nervous stares of the staff when the three of us walked in the door. Pete and I, with our light hair and light eyes, were obvious foreigners. After we were seated we overheard two waiters fighting over who would take our table.
“Do you speak English? “ “I don’t speak English.”
Roberto had to inform them that he is Italian and could translate.
The menu was verbal, and the waitress smoked as she listed the items.
The final dish was a plate of 5 meats: 1) chicken, 2) liver (looked like curly intestines), 3) heart and lungs (looked like liver), 4) cowtail (a specialty of Rome), and 5) a cow gland (that I thought was cabbage, then thought it was some form of seafood, then found out the sick truth AFTER I tried it). With a little coaxing I tried them all. The liver was the last one because I don’t trust meat that looks like a slippery curly fry. I was just happy I had filled up on Spaghetti Carbonera during the course prior.
3. ROME has NO SEMBLANCE of ORDER to its streets.
I thought Milan’s concentric circles were a bad way of organizing. Roberto said he never uses a map in Milan because it’s so easy for him. I asked him if he always knows his directions in Rome. “No, not always,” was his answer, and he lived there for 25 years. By the end of 4 days in Rome I felt like I knew it better than I know Milan.
Petate and Roberto enjoying gelato:
4. MARIA MEOWS a lot.
Just about everything is an excuse to meow: a cute baby, a poodle, a pair of shoes in the shop window. I remember when I used to have this problem…Meowing as a response to things. I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped. Maria is at the height of her meowing phase, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to can it. But other people weren’t afraid to give her laser stares to show their disapproval.
Here's Maria:
5. ROLLERBLADING is HOT again.
Maria and I ran onto a crazy rollerblading show in a park. Maria fell in love with long-haired blader with the grace of an eel skating around mini-cones. I preferred Grandpa Splits:
Jumping Jacks at the Parthenon
Things I learned over Break:
1. I LOVE ROME.
I love it, I love it, and I want to go back. It’s packed with tourists, but for some reason I didn’t mind. The beauty around every corner made up for it. My favorite site was the Trevi Fountain. Legend has it that if you face away from the fountain and throw a coin in, you’ll return to Rome. If you throw two coins in, you’ll fall in love with an Italian. I regret that 2nd coin.
Below is one of my favorite pix of the trip. Please note the couple on the right. The entire time Maria and I were at the fountain they were facing away from the beauty and violently kissing eachother. It was painful. They left after the popperazzi began taking pictures. So if you want to see the other pix, just ask.
2. A TRATTORIA is an old style Italian café.
Roberto, a native Roman, took Pete and I to an out-of-the-way trattoria in Rome. Roberto said there was a good chance they’d never had foreign customers. We saw the nervous stares of the staff when the three of us walked in the door. Pete and I, with our light hair and light eyes, were obvious foreigners. After we were seated we overheard two waiters fighting over who would take our table.
“Do you speak English? “ “I don’t speak English.”
Roberto had to inform them that he is Italian and could translate.
The menu was verbal, and the waitress smoked as she listed the items.
The final dish was a plate of 5 meats: 1) chicken, 2) liver (looked like curly intestines), 3) heart and lungs (looked like liver), 4) cowtail (a specialty of Rome), and 5) a cow gland (that I thought was cabbage, then thought it was some form of seafood, then found out the sick truth AFTER I tried it). With a little coaxing I tried them all. The liver was the last one because I don’t trust meat that looks like a slippery curly fry. I was just happy I had filled up on Spaghetti Carbonera during the course prior.
3. ROME has NO SEMBLANCE of ORDER to its streets.
I thought Milan’s concentric circles were a bad way of organizing. Roberto said he never uses a map in Milan because it’s so easy for him. I asked him if he always knows his directions in Rome. “No, not always,” was his answer, and he lived there for 25 years. By the end of 4 days in Rome I felt like I knew it better than I know Milan.
Petate and Roberto enjoying gelato:
4. MARIA MEOWS a lot.
Just about everything is an excuse to meow: a cute baby, a poodle, a pair of shoes in the shop window. I remember when I used to have this problem…Meowing as a response to things. I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped. Maria is at the height of her meowing phase, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to can it. But other people weren’t afraid to give her laser stares to show their disapproval.
Here's Maria:
5. ROLLERBLADING is HOT again.
Maria and I ran onto a crazy rollerblading show in a park. Maria fell in love with long-haired blader with the grace of an eel skating around mini-cones. I preferred Grandpa Splits:
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
2 Recommendations
If you don't listen to "This American Life", you're missing out. I have found the website (http://www.thisamericanlife.com) to be a vital connection to home and a great companion during my late-night Illustrator marathons. From the website one can stream or download episodes way back into the archives. I recommend the episode entitled "Kid's Logic." The recent one on TV is also excellent especially because it features my favorite band MATES OF STATE! I almost cried during this episode, but I think I was just lost in nostalgia connected with the endless hours of TV I watched as a kid.
Also, if you haven't checked out David Potter's music in awhile, or have never heard of David Potter, please go to http://www.myspace.com/davidpotter to hear some. (Potter's a friend from Timberlake Ranch Camps/college.) He's also doing some more folky songs with his wife and her sister. To hear that go to http://myspace.com/the curiosities. I'm crazy about the song "Don't be Sour with Me."
Also, if you haven't checked out David Potter's music in awhile, or have never heard of David Potter, please go to http://www.myspace.com/davidpotter to hear some. (Potter's a friend from Timberlake Ranch Camps/college.) He's also doing some more folky songs with his wife and her sister. To hear that go to http://myspace.com/the curiosities. I'm crazy about the song "Don't be Sour with Me."
call me alex
You know the book "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day"?
(It's Ruthie's favorite.)
Today I was Alexander.
Sometimes it's the little things that get ya.
(It's Ruthie's favorite.)
Today I was Alexander.
Sometimes it's the little things that get ya.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
