Who knew that children in Italy in 1954 practiced yoga?

While poking around a flea market in Lucca, Italy on Sunday afternoon, I found a few italian "ladies" magazines from the 1950's. I mainly like checking out the fashions, but I also peruse the articles. They are ridiculous, and I LOVE them.

There are some wonderful articles from GRAZIA, July 4th, 1954 including tips on how to clean your house before leaving for an extended vacation, a romantic story entitled "Un marito si trova cosi" (This is how we find a husband) and a lovely quiz to find out: "Siete una donna ordinata?" (Are you an organized woman?)
I learned things I never knew before reading these magazines. For example, did you know that according to "american doctors" the body doesn't digest "white foods," but the same foods in the color red are digestable! Note to readers with sensitive stomachs: GRAZIA reccommends you eat red tomato sauce. (Does it even exist in white?) Oh, and are you looking for a suitcase to carry your baby to and from your beachouse? Get one in GRAZIA.

Anyway, can you believe that there is an article on yoga poses for children? Although it is not explained as yoga, there is clearly some child's pose going on there. I know yoga has existed for a long time, but in Italy? My gym only got it a few years ago.

Once upon a vanilla latte....

As you may have read previously, I am an american fashion designer living in Italy. I used to live in New York when I was attending the Fashion Institute of Technology, and now 6 years later, I find myself in a small town in tuscany. It may sound like a dream to you, it may not. I would fall into the latter category. I can't say that I SHOULD be complaining, seeing that live in a place where the sun greets me almost every morning, and where I can arrive either at the beach for a swim, or in the snow capped mountains for a cup of hot chocolate in less than an hour. I quite frequently DO complain.


Well, not so much complaining, but comparing.


Yes, I COMPARE a lot.


While, neither America or Italy are perfect utopias, I quite often feel a nostalgia for my home country. Which is ironic because if I think back to when I was younger, I probably secretly wished I was european. There is an elegance and style that is connected to europe, which I have always admired. How is it possible that now I long for the over-the-top comforts of America?

Soon I will be returning home for a visit, and it is always around this time that I have the most wonderful dream. I dream that I am in New York City and I grab a grande vanilla latte from Starbucks and head over to the Anthropologie store in Soho, where I literally pass hours looking at all the clothes and home accessories. I usually hem and haw about choosing one object to buy, and then purchase it. That's the whole dream. But I wake up feeling like the happiest person the world. I live in a country where I can get a cappuccino for .90 cents made by a barman that actually studied at a "coffee university", and yet I long for a passable coffee in a to-go cup made by a high school student.

Ahhh, just one more week.

The Plaza