There was a thin line between fantasy and reality. Here, she lived only in her dreams. The sunbeams fell on her face as though a lover cradling it before a kiss; the air was ripe with Spring.
Nowhere in the world was there like Rome. Here, in a random cafe, she sipped espresso that put the trendiest bars anywhere else in the world to shame. But beyond that, this place held the magic of a thousand footsteps that passed through its each Piazza every morning.
To an Italian woman, she was just another face in the crowd. Even in her leather jacket, denim jeans, white Tod’s bag and little makeup save for a slick of red lipstick; she blended in. To an Italian man however…
She couldn’t help but giggle as the boys passed by, ‘Ciao Bella!’
Her friends thought she was crazy for coming back here.
Sitting in Campo de’ Fiori, she could have whiled away the hours on the pure blessed fact that nothing had changed; on the sound of that one lone guitarist sitting at the fountain playing.
But today she had a purpose. Waiting for him, she thought of all the happiest moments they’d spent meandering this city together. How they were so sure then that they’d love each other for always. And no matter the time that passed, or the new people in their lives; she'd kept that promise.
Back in the place where it all began, she thought, would be place that they could move on. But as the minutes lingered; the sun went behind a cloud and there was still no sign of him.
She couldn’t it. Her face drew into a frown. “Miss?” The owner, who’s face read like a map of a million stories, awoke her from her trance “something else?” He asked.
“No, thank you,” she replied.
“Why do you look so sad?” He asked her, pointing to her hand, “you are in love, no?”
She looked down at her engagement ring, “yes," she smiled, "I - I had come here to tell someone. But I suppose, it was only me who kept my promise,” she sighed.
The man looked at her quizzically.
“That we would always love each other, no matter what.”
“Ah,” the man nodded, as though he knew something she didn't,“he has kept his promise.”
She got up from the table aimlessly and began walking. And she thought she’d walk all the way until she reached the Spanish steps.
When she got there, she walked to the very top and sat on a stair; staring at the view. There was an engraving on the step where she sat; she squinted, trying to make it out. “Free the One you Love,” it read.
The sky had cleared and the sunset left a pink hue as she eventually made her descent and way back to her hotel. She stopped at the cake shop she used to love; waiting at the door for the sudden flurry of people leaving to subside. Something sweet was definitely going to make her feel better.
Her heart stopped.
There he was. As if the photo she’d kept of them from all those years ago in this same cake shop had come to life. Except that the girl in the picture wasn’t her.
She took a breath and smiled. There was a weird feeling of finality; contentment.
Back in the place where it all began, she thought, was where it could all begin again.
Commemorating Tod’s show in Milan tomorrow; and the bag illustrated which marks an important part of their SS18 collection (and will be available towards end of March/early April) - I tell a story not necessarily of an Italian love affair but of a romance ignited by Italy.
And true that whether in Milan or indeed Rome, no where in the world are women en mass more stylish nor men more bold.
It is impossible not to be inspired by Italian design; and personally, Tod’s is the epitome of that understated sexy, elegant style that conjures an imagination of just classy, beautiful women who have a story to tell.
Love,
Girl in Style