Haute Ville

September 23, 2013 0

And so, we pick up our backlog of European adventures where I left off before I headed to New York.

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As much as the present is supposed to be about Fashion Week, collections on collections, hashtag brunch with the Fashion elite, first class air travel, streetstyle paparazzi and me me me, this morning (drowning in work left, right and centre), there is nothing I want more than to be back in Corsica with Alex. And so, we pick up our backlog of European adventures where I left off before I headed to New York, for which I also have a backlog… and, unfortunately for you guys, I leave for work in Tokyo and Seoul this weekend too,* so alas: the next few months on this little corner of cyberspace is going to be a wildly garbled, non-chronological mess.

Oh well.

So, Bonifacio. I’ve already gushed excessively about its port, pools and islands, but the most impressive slice of this entire town is sitting pretty at 70m above sea level on the most formidable citadel the Mediterranean ever did see. Historically, the fortress was notoriously difficult to invade, and either floating past the base of the promontory, or staring straight down at what can only be described as rocks of death surrounded by pristine waters at the base of a vertical cliff-face, I can tell you that I would not have attempted to crack into the place if a Roman had paid me my weight in Givenchy (though apparently, the Aragonese carved 187 steps into the side of the cliff in an after-dark and designer-bag-motivated attempted to lay siege on the place… and failed… but, serious Kudos, guys).

Inside the bubble, the Haute Ville is nothing short of young Impressionist’s wildest poetic fantasies crossed with too much suntan, charcuterie, Corsican seafood and pride – I almost wish Moulin Rouge! had been set here, and not Montmartre, which makes absolutely no sense at all. While in search of the best formule deal, you find yourself in a constant limbo of being completely, and knowing exactly where you are – the streets are wide enough to assess at least ten food and drink options in one fell swoop, but narrow enough to up your heart rate and the urge to break out in gypsy dancing. With 80% of Bonicafio’s population living in the haphazardly squashed and stacked apartments, Alex and I spend most of our afternoons staring upwards at colourful washing lines of beach towels and Corsican cottons flailing in intermittent rushes of sea breeze, and afternoon ladies’ gossip (and once a bread exchange!?) happening between slatted shutters on opposite sides of narrow alleyways.

Three servings of Bonifacienne aubergines later (two months on, I’m still trying to replicate every known recipe – they’re absolutely incredible), we rolled home wishing we were a part of this strange medieval hybrid world that sold 118€ air-cured hams and more flavours of gelato than even Fennochio in Nice.

And now I have to go to class.

Bec & Bridge Top – Nobody Denim Shorts – Soludos Espadrilles – TOMS Sunglasses from Planet Blue – Larsson & Jennings Watch – Claire Aristides and Nicole Fendel Bracelets

shot on Nikon D600 and 85mm lens

* I want all of your most outrageous tips for what to do in Tokyo and Seoul! I’ve never been to either place before – excitement is an understatement

See more from Corsica at Visa Fashion First.

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