Notes from November: Postcard from Italy

A despatch from Bologna and other things.

Hanging out at Piazza Maggiore. Photo by me, before I dropped my camera and broke the lens.

Ciao from Bologna! I wrote this on my tenth day here, and I finally feel somewhat settled into my work-holiday routine. I wake up and start work at around 7am, to align with timelines in a different time zone. I stop at lunchtime and take a long break—I head out, get a lunch, and walk around the city for half an hour. Sometimes I go back to work, other times I don’t.

Some days, I work in the Sala Borsa, a former stock exchange turned public library. I love the solid wood tables and chairs, the desk lamps and that ceiling. Also, the free wifi is solid and the heating isn’t trying to dry me into a crisp. Public libraries forever. 10/10.

One morning during my first week, I went to a nearby market to shop for ingredients to make dinner, and I went back again today. The stall owners didn’t pay much heed to me the first time I was there—Bologna is after all, used to tourists—but today, they asked me questions (where I was from, how long I was here for). It felt like a win.

During my first week here, I did one of those free¹ walking tours you seem to see in every major European city. As the guide gave us a very summarised history of Bologna, we strolled through the city’s storied porticoes, some of which date to medieval/Renaissance times, and they reminded me of the humble five-foot ways lining shophouses in Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia, and the grand portales of Havana, both of which are colonial influences.

I love it when seemingly disparate things come together in my mind—I haven’t really travelled in a while and it reminded me that we travel not only to experience something new, but also to feel connected to other people.

Bologna’s porticoed streets, which are protected by UNESCO World Heritage status.

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Things I enjoyed this month

Eating. Being here has made realise that although I make some kind of basic pasta dish (carbonara, ragu, amatriciana) at least once a week back home, I rarely eat Italian food, and most regional specialities are new to me. So far, a thing I want to eat repeatedly is tortellini in brodo (broth), which is no surprise because I love broth and I love noodle soups. I also adore raviole bolognesi, which are pastries with a texture and flavour that sit somewhere between a shortbread and a madeleine, balanced with a jam filling. And my favourite thing to have for breakfast is a panettone, which is sold by the slice in some of the cafes I’ve been frequenting. The good ones are so light and not all all cloyingly sweet.

Watching this video by the V&A about a 16th century Mughal hunting coat. The coat is stunning is obviously, but equally fascinating was listening to the curator explain how the coat was likely designed and assembled, and giving us a peek of the seams under the lining. It blows your mind to realise halfway through that this is a 400-year-old garment.

And this Met video about designer Todd Oldham. More museum content. I knew it would be good when Oldham started the video with this zinger of a this quote: “If you’re going do something that no one needs, you better bring it.” I love that he speaks with so much pride and fondness for his career.

Nodding along to this thread by Derek Guy on why a Chamula jumper made by indigenous Mexican artisans is priced at US$500². This line pretty much sums up how I feel about painstakingly-made by small brands that I can’t afford: “The price alone should not be reason for ridicule. Workers deserve fair pay, and even if you can't afford to buy something, you can appreciate that someone is laboring to keep a craft alive.”

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Shopping addendum

A month before the trip, I told my husband that I wanted to avoid shopping in Italy because of the Rule of Five challenge, and he told me it was unrealistic for someone who loves clothing and shopping. Instead, I would be better off setting a budget to limit how much I could spend.

He was right—why set myself up to fail, when I could plan ahead and be more intentional about how much I want to spend, and what kinds of things I wanted to bring home with me? So I thought about it and decided that I would: 1) stick to secondhand shopping for clothes; 2) only buy things that are hard to find back home; 3) buy things that would remind me of Italy.

I also wanted to avoid seeking out “hype” items, like Schostal Original pajamas or Gammarelli socks³. Both sound like good souvenir ideas, but I feel like the best souvenirs are things you find by chance, and I want to travel without feeling like I’m checking stuff off a list (also both have online stores that ship worldwide).

My first clothing purchase of the trip happened early. I was checking out some vintage stores, and at one of them, I spotted this jacket. The mix of materials had caught my eye—initially it appeared to be a men’s shearling jacket with knit sleeves (done in a chunky navy wool knit). Only when the shopkeeper took the jacket down for me to try did I realise only the front, cuffs, collar and hem were shearling, while sleeves and rest of the body were knitted wool.

I thought the knitted parts surely couldn’t support the weight of the shearling panels, but turns out the jacket is lined—in emerald green quilted polyester—and I could feel some kind of fill or padding between the jacket’s inner and outer layers. This thing was solidly put together, but it was still light to wear.

If I’m being honest, the jacket is a little too big for me—the sleeves are too long and my shoulders aren’t quite wide enough to bring out the full shape of the jacket. Annoyingly, it looks better on my husband. But it’s not so oversized that I’m overwhelmed by it, and the

The shape and style of the jacket was a little bit classic, a little bit workwear, sort of a peacoat with a twist, and totally right up my alley. It’s by Jean-Charles de Castelbajac for Iceberg (he co-founded the Italian brand and was its designer from in 1974 to 1987), and although I wouldn’t claim to be a fan, I knew enough to recall some of his modernist-pop-kitsch sensibilities (Hermès womenswear creative director Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski has cited him as inspiration; Andy Warhol was in the ads; this scarf is amazing).

A campaign from the 1980s with designers George Sowden and Nathalie du Pasquier, shot by Oliviero Toscani. The jacket I bought reminds of the ones they’re wearing. Also, I did not know they were a couple for so many years; I love du Pasquier’s work. Image via Jean-Charles de Castelbajac’s IG.

In Melbourne, designer vintage tends to be expensive, so I was surprised that the shop owner priced had it at a relatively reasonable 100 euros—not a small sum of money or a bargain exactly, but it’s a fair price for what it is, taking into account that the effort by small business owners to source items like this. I later saw a similar jacket on Humana Vintage’s (a chain of secondhand clothing stores run by non-profit Humana) IG stories for 109 euros:

That big landscape (print?) on the back! Love it. This jacket looks in better condition than the one I got, but I prefer the navy colourway of mine. Screenshot via Humana Vintage Italia’s IG

The owner told me he wasn’t really into designer vintage and preferred to keep his prices accessible⁴. He also shared that Bologna has always had a great vintage scene, which was a big source of influence for the late Massimo Osti, the revered founder of C.P. Company and Stone Island, who hailed from Bologna⁵.

Even though it was rather early in my trip to be spending so much money on clothes, I decided to buy the jacket. Designer or not, the mix of materials, the colour palette and the style were intriguing, but it was also still a practical and easy-to-wear piece, and as always, it feels serendipitous that it happens to fit. And when I wear it, I will always think of where I got it from.

I still have a couple weeks left here and I might buy more clothes yet, but I’m relieved I didn’t go down the “no shopping allowed” route, because it would have made me twitchy and guilty for even just to wanting to shop. The secondhand clothing scene here is really good, and I’ve really enjoyed just looking even when I don’t buy anything.

Rule of Five tally:

• January — 1 item: Babaà wool jumper (new, A$346)

• February — 1 item: Vintage wool jumper (secondhand, A$75)

• March — 1 item: Dries Van Noten dress (secondhand, A$400)

• April-July — 0 items

• August — 3 items: Céline shirt (secondhand, A$178), Champion sweatshirt (secondhand, used store credit), Polo Ralph Lauren rugby shirt (secondhand, $40)

• September — 0 items

• October — 3 items: Vintage Fletcher Jones pleated wool skirt (secondhand, A$30), army surplus shorts (secondhand, A$9), beige leather coat (secondhand, A$80)

• November — 1 item: Vintage Iceberg shearling jacket (secondhand, A$161)

Total: 10 items (1 new, 9 secondhand, total of A$1,319 spent)

1. Tipping for these tours are voluntary, but it seems insane not to tip someone who just walked and talked you through two hours of local history (and did a great job of it). Unless otherwise advised, I aim for at least the equivalent of what it costs to get a simple lunch (a sandwich, a bowl of pasta, a coffee and a bun) in the area.

2. I’m not a knitter, but I have knitter friends and I know to knit a jumper that plush using quality wool would cost around US$100 just for the yarn alone.

3. I might still buy the socks…my father would love them (he loves socks), and so would my brother-in-law, who is Catholic. Actually, so would I; I love a long sock and there aren’t enough long socks for women!

4. I wouldn’t call my jacket cheap but it certainly wasn’t overpriced, unlike this ambitious Grailed listing of the exact same jacket for US$800. No surprise it’s still available.

5. I also learnt that there is an incredible Massimo Osti archive in Bologna that is open for free guided tours but the dates available during my stay here are already sold out. A shame, because I am really keen to understand why his brands inspired such fervour.