Milan.
I feel blasphemous even saying it, but…
I kind of hate it.
Milan smokes, wears high heels, skips breakfast and has a purse the price of my car. Milan and I seem to have very little in common.
Even Duomo, the central cathedral of Milan, is gorgeous, edgy, sharp, leggy. It’s the fashionista of churches.
Fashionista, I am not.
I am comfortable in a gym. Any gym. Any CrossFit box or state of the art fitness centre, or dodgy neighbourhood garage with weights, or fancy upscale club with snobby trainers.
Comfortable. At home. Know what I am doing.
Look it. Act it. Feel it.
As my best friend put it (in one of the best compliments I have ever received): “You can bring an eyelash curler to the gym, and nobody would question you, but rather ask how to use it”.
In Milan, surrounded by high fashion and extra skinny mannequins, I am quite far outside of that comfort zone. And I wish I brought an eyelash curler.
Too many options, too many people. Shoes – black, red, glittery. Lingerie – black, red, glittery.
Purses. Sunglasses. Purses. Jewellery. Purses. Watches.
My idea of luxury is a $500 GPS Suunto watch, currently decorating my wrist. This morning I decide to coordinate it with yellow, green and purple Salomon Scream runners.
High fashion, bitches. Runner style.
To be fair…
Milan also talks. Talks a lot, and with her hands. Milan is opinionated. Milan is strong-willed.
Maybe, we have more in common that I thought.
And I have heard that the best gelato in the world can be indeed found here. In Milan.
A little off the beaten path, but I am willing to make the trek.
Since I’m not wearing high heels.
YOUR TURN: Do you have a city that you did not exactly click with? Why? Why not? What about a city you clicked with instantly?
Ciao, Solo