I Love Italian Fashion

When I opened an email that contained the question ‘How do you fancy three days in Italy learning the secrets of Italian style?’ I nearly did myself an injury in my haste to reply. It sounded like the assignment of my dreams, so I jumped at it with both flip-flop-clad feet.

I was going to learn to fake it as a fashionista worthy of the front row at Milan, but first I would have to submit myself to a make-over. I was assured that I’d be oozing glamour and effortlessly littering my conversation with Italian phrases and the all-important corresponding hand gestures in no time.

There’s no denying that Italian women seem possessed of an innate sense of how to look good but us Brits are naturally more reserved, and tend to shy away from the flamboyance of the Italian’s love of designer style for fear of looking try-too-hard. But as I learned in Italy, there’s just no such thing as trying too hard for Italian women when it comes to style.

So could I learn how to make the look my own in a single afternoon? Would I ditch the sacred safety of my ballet flats for the indulgent joy of Prada heels? Are Bella Donnas born or made, and could I become one over night?

Even at the airport I could tell the Italian women from their British counterparts. I tried scrutinizing my Italian travelling companions for clues as to the secrets of their easy-chic look but it was virtually impossible to pin down precisely how they managed to pull off such effortless elegance. That’s part of the magic.

Before I arrived in Italy I’d mentioned my concerns about my trip to my host, Sally of Selandari’s Italian Collection. Would I stick out like a sort thumb? Would the sartorial challenges posed by the limits of my hand luggage allowance mean that I’d be the laughing stock of locals; the only obviously non-Italian for miles around? She promised I had nothing to fear, and assured me that I would recognise her instantly at the airport as a fellow Brit. “I still haven’t managed to pass myself off as an Italian” she confessed wryly, and I’ll admit I breathed an unstylish sigh of relief.

In reality, Sally was easily identifiable at the airport because of her cool, collected look. Much as she is the consummate host and put me entirely at ease, she also knows a thing or two about the Italian’s love of elegance, and she knows how to make the look her own.

For two days I shopped until I dropped, sampling the legendary Shopaholics Tours that Sally runs alongside Selandari’s. With Sally as my guide I discovered many of Le Marche’s hidden shopping secrets, from incredible hat and handbag factories tucked away in hidden corners, to the shrine to retail therapy that is the Prada outlet. Sally perfectly predicts your shopping needs, and knows exactly when to suggest a cappuccino stop. She’s not just good at shopping and adept at seeking out the best places to go for bargains galore, she’s also good fun to shop with, and that makes all the difference.

Finally, with Sally’s artful eye and careful styling, I was ready for my Italian make-over. I’ll admit I felt a little silly beforehand – I realised whilst being photographed in Italy for a feature about Sally’s Shopaholics Tours that I detest drawing attention to my physical appearance.  I’m happy to make myself vulnerable in print or to confess my inner thoughts online, but posing for a camera and strutting my stuff bring me out in a cold sweat. How thoroughly un-Italian! But with Sally’s help I momentarily found my strutting mojo, and a pair of rather lovely Valentino shades seemed to transform me, as if by magic, from a very British wallflower into a self-assured Italian exhibitionist! Suddenly I was pouting and flouncing and striking a pose like Gina Lollabrigida, and loving every second.

I was genuinely sad when the time came to part with the magic sunglasses, and could hardly contain my glee when Sally told me to keep the quintessentially Italian dangly earrings she’d picked out for the purposes of my transformation. Something of my Italian alter ego definitely rubbed off on me, and I secretly enjoyed the tinkling of my earrings as I trotted through the airport on my way back home. I knew I’d made it, and had successfully acquired the secrets of Italian style when a young Italian woman sidled up beside me at the airport and struck up an easy conversation. It was several seconds before I realised that she had mistaken me for an Italian, and when I clumsily explained ‘Non parlo Italiano’ she looked at me aghast and I’m fairly sure I even saw her shake her head in disbelief.

Back home, friends commented on my new earrings within seconds. They joked that I’d come back with a distinctly Italian spring in my step, and I must say I agree. I loved Sally’s explanation of the Italian’s sense of la bella figura – translated as the beautiful figure, but a concept that means so much more and encompasses a way of life that’s concerned with beauty both inside and out. Along with my earrings and the memories, I’ve kept a little something of that approach to life, and I’ve enjoyed embracing my inner fashionista. I’ve been inspired to ditch the easy comfort of my lazy style choices, and I’m itching to overhaul my look with a little touch of Italian elegance. Funnily enough, I’ve found myself making much more effort with my appearance since I came home. That’s earned my compliments-a-plenty but more than that, it’s made me feel good about myself inspite of my many physical imperfections – and that’s something not even money can buy, no matter where you shop.

Heidi Scrimgeour
Freelance Journalist
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heidi@giftofthegab.net
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Tags: Designer Shopping in Italy, Heidi Scrimgeour, How to look Italian