Spring

writes a catchy headline so you can click

Mar 24, 2021

Hola, amigos. First, thank you for selling me your data, you have agreed to receive spam mails of hot women/men that are EAGER to chat with you. Those men and women are me, basically. Eager to talk to you.

I didn’t know so many people would like to read my nonsense weekly, or whatever the frequency of this publication may be. By so many people I mean the 44 humans I have in my Close Friends list on Instagram. So, welcome to my Close-Close-Very-Very-Close-Friends list. I’m happy you’re here.

What are you here for?

I guess that you’re here for the same reasons you have for being my friend: inconstant texting, the way I invest myself in staring at you when you’re talking, and how easily this same attention can be lost within seconds with something I see. Generally dogs, or men. In order of priority. Rest assured, though, that even if I’m not looking, or texting back, I’m always paying attention, or always there for you. Like Kim Possible.

I believe, or at least I want to believe so myself, that you’re here because I might have something good to say. About fashom, culture, life, men, books, Florence, or the infinity of random things that compose this complex human that I am. What you DO have to know is that, besides you, I am doing this for myself.

A very dear friend, who happens to be an incredible and successful author, once told me that my writing “felt very formal, and sometimes didn’t reflect the dynamic human that I am”. I couldn’t help but wonder: Had I created a persona when writing? Influenced by the weight of the publication I currently work for? And that this was probably just a piece of who I am and wasn’t connecting to my work? IDK.

He, as many of you, especially one of you (shoutout to Valentina) know that this ever-evolving human writing these words is full of nuances, fleeting thoughts, and multiple passions. So let these words and this format be the bridge that connects the greatness of my being with my work’s true essence.

Disclaimer: Be prepared to get my critical self, the funny one, the analytical, the deep, the shallow, AND MUCH MORE.

So, let’s hit it

This is one thing I would like to address before I forget, a recent thought I had while doing my morning affirmations. And don’t believe this is something I do every day, I took on the habit again after @mika_vidente saying that I should do so in this week’s horoscope. So I did. Usually, they start with declarations of gratitude.: “I’m grateful for my health, my family and friends, for being in Florence…” and the long list of things I am grateful for. Then come my affirmations: I declare myself a successful man, I declare myself a healthy man, a creative man, …man. Man? UN ONVRE????

For a moment, I had to stop and internalize what I was feeling while saying these powerful words that are supposed to be what I am to become. How comfortable did I feel of calling myself a man? So repeatedly. I -indeed- feel like a man, I love it, don’t get me wrong. But hey - I realized that is not often that I refer to myself as such. I have always thought of myself as a person, a being, of something less drastically labeled. But let’s not fall into a gender black hole and let me summarize it with an awful song lyric by Taylor Swift: “Call it what you want”.

The view (nada básica) of the place I did my affirmations from.

Something about Fashom

I’ve been tirelessly hunting for loafers, penny loafers, to be more specific. AKA the shoe I feel most comfortable in and happens -I think- to speak about myself the most. When I say tirelessly, I actually mean that I have invested time, and even sweat to find these things.

There is nothing that has taught me more about regret than loafers. So many times I have had the perfect pair in front of me but my inner -fashom- saboteur gets in the way. There they were, a perfect, shiny, grandpa-looking pair of slightly heeled loafers in this shop in Madrid. “I’ll get them tomorrow,” I said, as I walked past by the window every.single.day. I left Madrid, empty-handed, even if the only thing dividing us was this glass full of fingerprints.

Just like with so many other things, like men, I am always expecting to find a better deal. But sometimes, this same feeling of cautiousness and insecurity has kept me from 1) Spending money unnecessarily, and 2) Getting involved in things I’m not truly committed to. For example, 2 weeks ago there was a pair of Gucci loafers, imprinted with a cute bee, available in a variety of sizes, in a highly secret website I am not going to reveal. I think they were €60, NEW, can you believe it? The point is that I always thought my size for Gucci was 9, but my friend recommended that I doubled checked, so I did. I went to the store, and turned out that my size was 8.5 EUR. What If I had spent crazy amounts of money on shoes, size 9, and then not even being able to return them? God maneuvers in mysterious ways.

Update: I still haven’t bought any loafers. I am, patiently waiting, for the right pair to come. AKA THESE DIOR LOAFERS I SAW ON MONDAY BUT ARE ALMOST €800.