I've been living in Italy for a few years now. Of the many differences I have noticed between the United States, and Italy is the style. Being Italian is a style. They don't think of it the same way we do in the US. For them, it's a part of a life, a very important part of life. They follow what is "in" and what is not closely. Even the men, the ones who don't know anything about style, know the right color to wear at certain times of the year. My boyfriend who is not really particularly interested in Italian Fashion or Italian design said, "I hate beige. Why is beige the color for spring/summer?". I just looked at him and said, "how do you know?" he said, "I'm Italian, we know". If I asked one of my guy friends at home about the "in" color for the season they would say, "whatever still fits me" or "whatever I pull from my floor that still smells clean". End of story.
Another difference is that they pay a great deal of attention to new, and upcoming things. Ossimori, a new "Made in Italy" design company has been around for a year, yet it's being recognized all the way in Macedonia already. Their line of shirts, Das Gift, are insanely comfortable and tagless, and they never fade. The quality is very Italian, although their approach to fashion is not. Despite that they have sold all over Europe, and from what I hear, are being emailed demanding the brand reach other parts of Europe. How are they known? For their strange guerilla marketing campaigns, art installations, and raw slogans such as this years, "Love Made Hard". Plus, Italians talk. They LOVE to talk. And often the conversations are around politics, fashion, and new business.
And still more things about Italy, Florence in particular, is that in the winter, nobody wears anything but black. Today, it's sunny, yet the streets are filled with black encased bodies. They won't wear something "lighter" until it is season appropriate despite the weather. In a few months, the season will change, the black will fade away and Beige will come in. I'm preparing my boyfriend with laundry accidents that turn his white shirts yellow, or as I have tried to twist the truth, "beige". "I'm helping" I say. "Yeah, thanks, I can see that" he says.
