Landing in a new city is forever exciting.
Landing in a new city to a call from your rental apartment saying that it is no longer available is also exciting in its own way.
Ending up in a flat twenty minutes out of town and failing at figuring out the subway system surely gets your blood pumping.
By the time I got myself to Alberta Ferretti’s show, I was probably more excited, so to speak, than I had been since trying to convince Kuwait Airlines to waive my 5kg of excess baggage because I was at least 5kg lighter than the average traveler. Further, the fashion industry had apparently brought London’s aggressive drizzle with them, and walking in the open for longer than 100m at a time in the open was simply not an option (just as my feet suffered in silence sans Hunter boots, none of my coats are waterproof), so you can see how it was a little difficult to
see beyond your heels sinking between the cobblestones and grates that seem to be systematically set up around Corso Buenos Aires, outside stores and cafés with the highest likelihood of stiletto consumption.
That’s where Sandra comes in.
I’ve known this constantly smiling miss for at least four seasons now, and I have yet to go to bed on a bad day after having seen her and discussed the process of moving to New York (every time), and how great her lipstick colours are (for real – if anyone can pull off a electric magenta, it’s her).
On this particular evening, she was the one who made me look up from my phone and around at how wildly romantic Milan can be – even at twilight, even when it’s raining. And, given the ridiculously honed eye and talented shooter she is, found some magical pool of light between cars and streetlights.
Back at the ranch, most other street paparazzi have already hung up their boots for the day.
photos by Sandra Semburg