- Feb 10, 2009
- Reaction score
I think I'm getting sick. Jen may have jinxed me. I feel mucosal and sweaty and tired. It's a bad feeling. Perhaps I should have followed Fok and Jen's example and skipped today (Friday) altogether. I think I've explained before - Friday at pitti is pack-up day - It's empty. All the brands are usually doing their best to stuff their garments into luggage, to get the hell out. Even the photographers who are still here - why? There's no one left to photograph - seen completely disinterested, when only yesterday they were ravenous.
It has been a long trip for yours truly - I will admit that I am ready to leave. I imagine the exhibitors feel the same way - and then Jose, at La Portegna, tells us they're forcing people to stay until 4. Bad for the image, I guess, to see Pitti empty.
Day 4 is, perhaps not surprisingly due to the decreased crowds, a productive day. Gracia and I explore the Pitti Women’s pavilion (my first time!), where we find some cool shit - this brand, Jolie Kica, which does, like, modern things? I don’t know. They also have casentino, of course. Gracia really liked all of it, so she’ll probably share more later.
After that, we link up with David at the wall, and take a bunch of silly photos. People ask me to move so that they can get pictures of Gracia. I’m used to it at this point, and generally ignore them. Instead I take pictures of David stroking the metal cats that are inexplicably part of this year’s “Walkabout” theme.
Realized I never posted this photo of Asian Female Synthese
Once we’ve completed what we set out to do at the wall, we head over to Gray, where we learn about their really cool knits. They have this super-thick, double-yarn stuff that they’re using to make knit blazers with a lot more structure than you’re used to. I want one. It’s such plush stuff, I want all my furniture to be made out of it, too.
After, we swing by Spellbound and check out their laser-etched, indigo-dyed shirts. I think they're pretty damn cool. They also have "origami" denim bags - no stitched, just folds and rivets. Gracia likes the camo jacquard jackets, too. I'm feelin' indigo these days; maybe it's because of all the street goths. The Spellbound dude asks if my sashiko coat coat is Kapital; but recognizes Blue Blue. He's the first person to care, and this makes me like him immediately.
Finally, on Greg’s recommendation, we spend some time looking at De Bonne Facture. It means “well-made” in French, and…it is. I am not sure how much I am allowed to tell you, but I can say that it is made by the same factories in France that are probably making some of the most expensive, well-made stuff that you can think of. Photos to come; a link to their website is what I can share for now.
De Bonne Facture is obsessed with manufacturing; their website lists, in loving detail, where the items are produced and by whom. And the clothes are beautiful - French Essentials, claims the press, and I was reminded a bit of Cinema du Look gone new-millenium clean. Too clean for some, I imagine, but nevertheless it was probably the most impressive brand I spent any time with this trip.
These things take time. In fact, day 4 is my favorite day of the trip this year - we have time to talk, time to think, and time to take in a bit of what we’re looking at. I dislike crowds, and am much more functional without them. But, after a pleasant and pleasantly empty lunch, we take some pictures of Pitti's best couple and then we’re essentially finished. We have a debrief at
the hotel, and then the day is done.
Just look at that smirk
The debrief is good. Simple, in the hotel bar, and there’s no debriefing involved. We just have a couple negronis, Fok does some pushups (Jasper: “Fok, why are you doing pushups in the hotel bar?”), and then Steph, Gracia and I accompany David to PNP on his way to the train station.
I swear, for all of his suits, David loves it here. The three of us kill time while he tries on like sixty different pairs of pants and god knows what else, all of which is way cooler than the sweater, jeans and sneakers he’s wearing today. Sorry, but it’s true. Steph has time to get a pizza while she waits, and by the time she, Gracia and I leave, David’s still in front of the mirror with Marco, discussing trouser options.
We head across the river; tour about a bit. Gracia has informed me that I have long legs, and so I have slowed my pace accordingly. We poke about a bit, then head back over the Ponte Vecchio and get a drink in a place where the only other patron is a man who really, really loves his toy poodle. He takes selfies of the two of them together, shows them to the dog. I admire his dedication.
After a spritz, we go back to Trattoria Armando, where we manage to find a table. Gracia has declared that she wants bistecca, which is fine with me, so we split one after a round of pici (yes, I rectify my earlier mistake). Steph is no help at all, but we do manage to slay the beast.
By this point I’m feeling bad. I know I’m sick, I know I’m going to feel worse in the morning. I don’t even make an effort to suggest after-dinner drinks, I just go home and collapse into the refining fires of my bed; dreaming of swallows, dreaming of princes in crumbled towers. Pitti is over; I cannot imagine what it will feel like to come back.