Ok, much to my dismay I walked about Rome in my hiking boots and pants while the fashion shows were going on just steps from my hotel in the Piazza del Popolo.
Gucci, Armani and every other very cool designer paraded past me. Here’s the really strange thing, me in my hiking pants and boots didn’t feel out of place. I had walked all over Rome, the Vatican, the Forum, the Palatine and walked back to this piazza just outside my hotel. Perhaps hunger and perspiration creates an aura, because I had amazing late lunches and really attractive models stopping by my table. It’s true—no, I don’t have pictures, but I am certain it had something to do with my footwear. It was so un-Italian, it had to be a trend and therefore, I was a magnet.
How delightful! Who knew that blisters could bring so much bliss?
So while I sipped my wine and practiced my Italian, I thought about shoes that were light and showed off the pedicure every woman has before she goes off on an adventure.
The next day, I was boarding a train to Florence, the place of buttery soft leather. I knew as I bantered, badly, that the best was yet to be.