I’ll be wandering the Palazzo Pitti courtyards soon, surrounded by the world’s most impeccably dressed men.
Pitti Uomo. Florence. Men’s fashion week.
Fashion has always been my first love.
It’s daily self-expression. And I adore that.
The tilt of a hat. The peek of a pocket square—or alluring lingerie. The flash of a sequin.
It’s art in motion. You, as the artist.
As a child, I spent hours at the sewing machine with my mother. She had studied fabrics, fit, clothing design and construction. And I apprenticed with her. By the time I was in high school, I was designing for myself, and learning the craft of tailoring. For years I wore a soft grey herringbone full-length wool coat, lined in grey silk, and with a contrasting grey velvet collar. Designed by me. Made by me.
No surprise I wanted to go to Parsons.
But my father put the kibosh on that idea. His straight-A daughter would be getting a proper education. Which led me to Bucknell University where I studied computer science—and spent my evenings in the art studio. Logic by day. Beauty by night. Both, always.
2 years ago, I resurrected my love of fashion—I became a Certified Italian Men’s Fashion Stylist via a program in Milan. Ohhhh, heaven.
So you might imagine that popping into Florence for the pinnacle of men’s style is my kind of pilgrimage. I’ve got my lens ready.
Here’s the thing about our loves. They’re quirky. Unexpected. Persistent.
When we surrender to their siren song? They light us from within. We sparkle.
While I’m savoring the mecca of Florence, what’s calling you? Tell me. I want to hear all about that glitter in you that’s ready to rise.