Wednesday, 1 September 2010

The good life

I have just spent a blissful week in a little village near Rimini on the Italian Adriatic. I have been going there forever - since I was a little girl and now I take my kids to enjoy a little retro chic bucket and spade-ing.  And it really is so chic. I honestly don’t think the town or the hotel that we stay in have changed in 40 years and I find it utterly charming. From the canopied bikes we ride into town to the ice cream parlour which really is the smartest, most elaborate venue in town (30 flavours, leather booths and absolutely no clue about portion control). 

The local hairdresser is hands down the best I have ever been to for a good blow dry and I love the fact that I get to sit under one of those ancient blow dry bubble things which make me feel like an extra in Corrie and pretend to listen to the local gossip bouncing around.

I love the whole small town mentality of it all. I always come home thinking I would love nothing more than to buy a little house in this most beautiful of spots and settle down to making my own pasta.  Imagine the lifestyle porn…  Quaint 1950’s village…  The dramatic costal shoreline on the one side with its wonderfully bleached  hues, the rural countryside on the other and in the middle the best that Italian fashion has to offer open till 11.30pm EVERY NIGHT!!!!  I jest you not- all the big boys are there as well as smaller exciting brands all jostling for well merchandised space in the multitude of boutiques that the Italians do so well. But enough of this blatant consumerism and cut to me in my Italian villa dream, children running happily outside (no tears, tantrums or traumas because I am Italiano mama perfecto) whilst I am busy kneading pasta dough (or whatever it is)  wearing a floral tea dress - my hair suddenly long and layered, tied loosely in a pony tail and a year long tan. A bit like Penelope Cruz in Vicky Christina Barcelona but more Jewish.  You feeling it yet? Or should I tell you about my daily walks down the country lanes, my perfect expresso macchiato in the little cafĂ© on the corner, the dappled light as it falls through the worn wooden slats of the canopy I am having my siesta under.

And all the while my business is running itself, fashion week is taken care of and I don’t have to give a moments consideration to the pressure looming as we prepare to present our new (but rather fabulous) collection to the fashion world. Well… It was good whilst it lasted!

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