Ma Che Bella
For those of you who may or may not know- I have transported my life to the land of high-fashion and the country where it seems that carbohydrates don’t affect the likes of the locals as much as the ‘straniere’, that is strangers. I am in Milan, and indeed a stranger. So here are my reflections thus far on the likes of the city, the men and well the food.
The men are… how do I say this without puncturing the ego of a whole entire male nation? Well they are arrogant and obnoxious. Just because you have asked me out for café doesn’t mean I have to oblige and smile whilst doing it. Luckily if you have somehow been caught in the whirlwind of a café by one of these Italian types, café means an espresso shot, which means zooming right in and right out without feeling too much of a blow. I won’t get too ahead of myself just yet though, I’m sure there are some good sorts out there walking the winding cobbled streets of Italia.
Also, I know that frequenting a club most commonly is associated with a ‘mingle’, or for others a ‘hunt’ for their next catch. However, the Italian club scene really shines a new light to Usher’s song ‘make love in this club’. “Love” is truly a censoring of what is going down in this club…pun intended.
Let me set the scene here, as I belted out the words to some eurotrash this past Saturday (specifically stereolove) and I sipped on what seemed to be methylated spirits (but was actually a vodka lemon, pronounced le-mone in the hopes of carrying off the Italian English accent and getting the right drink) I realised that the Italiani were smooth talking their way into our dance circle– kissing hands, whispering in ears, blowing kisses, waist grabbing, compliments left right and centre, truly turning on the Italian lover stereotype to an immeasurable level. I took it in my stride; laughed, giggled and flicked the hair but mostly just kept belting out all the euro-trash and danced like nobody was watching (the reality was we had a whole audience with their eyes glued to us).
Sure this happens in Oz, occasionally, but here men are much more open to expressing the want they have for a lady in the moment. Whilst it’s flattering, there is only so many ‘MAAAAAA CHE BELLAAAA’ one girl can hear before thinking they are being sarcastic, or simply wanting to smack them in the back of the head.
What shocked me the most with the clubbing scene in this fashion capital was the women and their attire, fluoro pink and fluoro yellow DO NOT MATCH! And they most definitely should be covering your behind. Women insist on teasing their hair into a beehive higher than that of Amy Winehouses’ and wearing amounts of make-up that rivals icing on a cake. It’s no wonder the men are flocking to the foreign girls dressed in black with a bit of red lippy.
Mostly though, these girls are giving it out as if it was their last night on earth. Sure we have all had our pash & dash, or in one’s most horrendous state, been the girl in the club that gets asked to ‘get a room’. But these ladies appear to be hired dancers (the bad kind) in their barely there dresses, sequined bras and inappropriate use of leopard print. For heaven sake Ladies it’s winter, temperatures are inadequate for this kind of indecent exposure. Please take Miss Franklin’s advice and have some R-E-S-P-E-C-T for yourself!
Ciao - Agatha
The men are… how do I say this without puncturing the ego of a whole entire male nation? Well they are arrogant and obnoxious. Just because you have asked me out for café doesn’t mean I have to oblige and smile whilst doing it. Luckily if you have somehow been caught in the whirlwind of a café by one of these Italian types, café means an espresso shot, which means zooming right in and right out without feeling too much of a blow. I won’t get too ahead of myself just yet though, I’m sure there are some good sorts out there walking the winding cobbled streets of Italia.
Also, I know that frequenting a club most commonly is associated with a ‘mingle’, or for others a ‘hunt’ for their next catch. However, the Italian club scene really shines a new light to Usher’s song ‘make love in this club’. “Love” is truly a censoring of what is going down in this club…pun intended.
Let me set the scene here, as I belted out the words to some eurotrash this past Saturday (specifically stereolove) and I sipped on what seemed to be methylated spirits (but was actually a vodka lemon, pronounced le-mone in the hopes of carrying off the Italian English accent and getting the right drink) I realised that the Italiani were smooth talking their way into our dance circle– kissing hands, whispering in ears, blowing kisses, waist grabbing, compliments left right and centre, truly turning on the Italian lover stereotype to an immeasurable level. I took it in my stride; laughed, giggled and flicked the hair but mostly just kept belting out all the euro-trash and danced like nobody was watching (the reality was we had a whole audience with their eyes glued to us).
Sure this happens in Oz, occasionally, but here men are much more open to expressing the want they have for a lady in the moment. Whilst it’s flattering, there is only so many ‘MAAAAAA CHE BELLAAAA’ one girl can hear before thinking they are being sarcastic, or simply wanting to smack them in the back of the head.
What shocked me the most with the clubbing scene in this fashion capital was the women and their attire, fluoro pink and fluoro yellow DO NOT MATCH! And they most definitely should be covering your behind. Women insist on teasing their hair into a beehive higher than that of Amy Winehouses’ and wearing amounts of make-up that rivals icing on a cake. It’s no wonder the men are flocking to the foreign girls dressed in black with a bit of red lippy.
Mostly though, these girls are giving it out as if it was their last night on earth. Sure we have all had our pash & dash, or in one’s most horrendous state, been the girl in the club that gets asked to ‘get a room’. But these ladies appear to be hired dancers (the bad kind) in their barely there dresses, sequined bras and inappropriate use of leopard print. For heaven sake Ladies it’s winter, temperatures are inadequate for this kind of indecent exposure. Please take Miss Franklin’s advice and have some R-E-S-P-E-C-T for yourself!
Ciao - Agatha
posted by The Toast at
9:28 PM
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