I give up

It’s a micro climate I’m told, the strange combination of factors that has resulted in this part of the world being meltingly hot in the summer and blisteringly cold in the winter with ridiculous levels of humidity throughout the year.  The hot and humid weather never really bothers me but cold is something I live in fear of.  Get temperatures into single figures and I become the kind of person that lives up to the whinging stereotype that me adopted home holds of British people.  Winter in the Veneto has always been this looming event whose inevitable arrival I have dreaded.  Not just for the cold and humid temperatures that bite through you or the bitter winds that smack you in the face but the knowledge that I can either suffer stoically through the event or start dressing for the weather.  And here lies the problem.

Melbourne gets pretty cold and normally the arrival of the winter months is seen as a opportunity and I look forward to the twice yearly ritual of the wardrobe turnaround when you put wash and put away the t-shirts and summer dresses and pull out the jumpers and thick socks that you haven’t seen for the last five or six months.  I see the cooler months as an opportunity to dress better given that you are required to wear so many more clothes.  When I say Melbourne gets cold I mean Melbourne gets cold for Australia and here with the ever lowering thermometer suddenly my winter clothes look stupidly thin.  Recently everyone seems to be concerned with my preparedness to cope with a Trevisan winter.  I’ve often been asked if I have a warm coat and you know I actually thought I did.  But of late my usual Melbourne winter coat while being ultra stylish in its modern minimalist aesthetic is proving painfully inadequate and I have been forced to consider alternatives. 

When the first signs of cold weather appeared Trevisans en masse (I’m not sure if there is a set date for this or if the Trevisans have some kind of sartorial telepathy) pulled out their puminos.  A pumino is a big puffy, padded coat that while keeping you snug does run the danger of making you look like the Michelin man.  For a while it seemed as if every shop window was full these monster coats.  If like me you don’t particularly like the pumino there is a popular alternative – fur.  Here there doesn’t seem to be any stigma or controversy about wearing animal pelts and I’ve never seen so many women in fur.  Now obviously I’m not going to wear fur so it looks like the pumino is my only option if I’m going to get through the winter.  Unfortunately being short (I make pygmies look tall) and svelte not being an adjective you would use to describe me I look pretty stupid in one of these big puffy numbers.  I also think they’re pretty ugly so the prospect of owning one is quite distressing. 

Winter 2011/2 Big, puffy coat and gumboots

Get one, wear it through the winter and then put it at the back of your wardrobe and forget about it until you need it again was the advice I was given and it was with this in mind that I went out in search of a pumino.  I quickly realised that if I was to be warm I would have to give up any notions of style – these coats just look stupid on me.  They’re not cheap either and when push came to shove I couldn’t face the thought of spending 100+ euros on something that made me look like a cross between the stay puft marshmallow man and a sleeping bag.  I’ve never really thought of myself as a fashonista preferring to dress for comfort and mood rather than the latest trends yet I surprised myself by being prepared to suffer the cold to avoid the marshmallow look.  That was until the temps really started dropping and I soon realised that I am prepared to sacrifice a bit of style to the greater good of being warm.  I was hoping to ride it out until the sales kicked in post Christmas but no luck, it’s just too cold to wait.  Still being tight fisted or prudent enough not to spend my hard earned money on something that will render me a visual joke I’ve borrowed one from M.  Yes it’s super warm and puffy and yes I am giving up on style – for the next few months at least.

La bella figura

I have a dress, an old thing that has been with me since I was 21, long past its best it still fits and has become my default outfit when I don’t plan to go anywhere or do anything of a day.  This morning when I realised that I was without milk this was the dress I threw on to run out to the supermarket.  Turning the corner I was confronted with a fashion culture class in the form of the typical Trevisan signora.  Despite it being early on a Sunday the signora was perfectly presented in a pink suit, accessorised with bracelets, earrings, necklace, make up applied; not a strand of hair out of place, and most strikingly wearing a towering pair of black heels (pretty impressive given the cobblestones.)  Our eyes meet in mutual incomprehension for my part I was trying the understand why anyone would spend so long on getting ready for a Sunday and no doubt she was wondering how the hell anyone could let themselves be seen in such a ratty old dress

It’s called La Bella Figura and is the Italian art of presentation.  That is to always be well “turned out,” and the Trevisans certainly take this to heart.   Treviso is home to those fine purveyors of multi coloured knitwear Benetton and as well as their flagship store my new high street shops are the likes of Max Mara, Gucci and Ralph Lauren.  A couple of weeks ago returning late from a glorious afternoon of sun, sea, beer, and ping pong at the beach I was surprised to see the shops of Treviso still in full retail swing – It was long gone 10pm.  It was the annual white night.  The first day of the summer sales when the stores stay open to midnight and the Trevisan population shops like, well much like it does the rest of the week.  Italians take their dressing seriously – well you would when you have to maintain the reputation of being one of the most stylish nations on the planet.  

A walk through the main square of an evening you quickly notice how everyone (local) is impeccably dressed.  The women wear towering heels and figure hugging clothes, jeans are tight, whites are whiter than white (all the better to show off that summer tan.)  The hair is perfect and the jewellery, for my taste, just the wrong side of east coast rapper blingy.  The male Trevisans’ look can be described as sports casual.  Labelled polo shirt with collar turned up, jeans, slacks or long pressed shorts and what I consider to be one of the world’s ugliest looks; moccasins without socks.  Just the moccasin itself would be bad enough but the whole long trousers and no socks topped off with the moccasin I just find so distressing. 

My old home Melbourne considers itself quite a stylish place and in Australia Melbournians are famed for their distinct style embracing every shade of black.  You may laugh but its true Melbournians wear almost exclusively black.  Get us in a room together and look down, the effect is akin to a drawer full of socks.  It’s not then surprising that I look a bit different to the average Trevisan.  Since arriving here my look has often been commented on.  Italians take notice of what you’re wearing and are not shy in telling you what they think.  Walking around town I have become accustomed to the very deliberate and in no way furtive manner in which the Italians look you up and down.  And it’s not just women who comment, a friend’s boyfriend recently told me that he liked the way I dressed (which is largely dictated by what is currently clean.)  Given that my clothes are more likely to come from Kmart than Prada I felt that was a small triumph for affordable fashion. 

While the thought spent on appearance can only be applauded especially after any visit to Venice where the overwhelming majority of tourists sport ill fitting, flesh exposing and badly accessorised clothing (really people I’m all for comfort but does being on holiday give you the excuse to dress badly?  Surely you must have something decent packed in those oversized suitcases that you do insist on dragging around.)  I can’t help but notice how the idea of a stylish bella figura has resulted in everyone dressing the same.  Even across generations; when I first arrived I was taken aback at the sight of a parent and teenage child dressed in identical clothing now I don’t bat an eyelid.  Fashion like much else in our world is becoming increasingly homogenised a wealthy Trevisan dresses much the same as their equivalent in Britain (the Sloane ranger) and Australia (anyone from Toorak.)  While at times I find dressing up fun and like how my choice of clothing reflects my mood for me the perfection of the Italian ladies is just too much work (and let’s face it in my case pretty unattainable) I really can’t be bothered to spend the time and effort to look perfect and if I need to run out to get some milk on a Sunday morning I’m not going to worry about matching my shoes to my outfit.  There’s a lot to be said for the time saving benefits of relaxed chic.

As fashion is seasonal expect me back in a few months with my thoughts on the autumn looks!