Roman Fashion…Again

 I love Rome.  You can come here 1000 times and see something new every time, particularly since there are more than 900 churches, 1000 fountains and much to my chagrin, about a million gelaterias.  When we drove into the city however, I thought of two things:

  1. I didn’t bring any scarves.  In Sicily, I really didn’t feel too badly looking like I did…middle-aged.  While the Sicilians are known for their food, they will never be considered slaves to fashion.  Even with my various shades of grey and green Eddie Bauer attire, I more or less didn’t look any worst than the average Sicilian woman.  Not here in Rome.  Every Roman woman, and frankly, most of the Roman men, know how to put together an outfit.  With a simple jacket, a sweater intricately wrapped around one or both shoulders, and yes, a scarf, all look fabulous.  Even the older women wear sensible but beautiful shoes, tasteful ensembles and seem to have the ability to work a scarf like nobody’s business.  My problem was that this was not my first time in Rome and I knew all of this about its citizens and still forgot a scarf or two.  Between my goofy FitFlop sneakers (which I brought because they are incredibly comfortable, and not for the fashion statement they make) and my short pants and jacket, I wasn’t exactly blending in with the natives; and
  2. Never, never make Rome the last stop on your vacation.  If forgetting a scarf wasn’t enough, most of my clothes are now dirty and I have limited outfit options.  I am now only trying to marginally match. 

My attire aside, as much fun as we had seeing things we had never seen, such as three Caravaggios in a church we had never entered and the Jewish Ghetto, as well as the usual “must sees,” St. Peter’s Basilica and the Vatican Museums, our “Roman Holiday” had a shaky beginning.  


Our cab driver, who I believe was from the same part of Italy as my grandparents (although, I could have completely misunderstood him, as he only spoke Italian) dropped us in front of a “hotel” that was only marked by a door bell.  We began to argue with the him—inarticulately, I might add —that this can’t possibly be the hotel.  He continued to point to the name on the doorbell and in his defense, the hotel’s name was right there in black and white. Plus, the “door” was an iron grate,  the hallway looked dodgy and all I could think of was, “Did I find this place on TripAdvisor?”


The gate eventually clicked open and Bob ran up some steps, which turned out to be four flights with no elevator in sight.  This was a huge problem as we had two heavy suitcases, albeit mostly filled with dirty clothes that now had to be transported up. Apparently, we had booked this place because the write-up (wherever it was from) described the building as a lovely setting of a grand home of a former Roman family.  Nothing was said about the multitude of steps and no elevator. The good news was that after hiking up every hill in Sicily, what’s a few flights?   The room was actually lovely and the hotel was in a fabulous location.  Who needs a porter?


And tomorrow, we head home, with wonderful new memories….and a lot of dirty clothes. Arriverderci Italia. 

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