A place of worship: Part 2 -G

A Place of Worship Part 2

In Rome, between every historic monument and place of worship, there is a Prada store. There is Chanel, Burberry, Ferragamo and every possible name of fashion you can imagine. And on the sidewalks and walking straight down the middle of Roman streets are men and women that look so unbelievably fucking cool. So cool it makes an American woman in her teva sandals and sundress want to run back into the hotel and hide! They do say ciao, they do ride Vespas, they do make out against walls anywhere they want, they do wear 1,000€ high heels down old cobblestone streets, they all do have sexy luscious dark curls, and the men do have impeccable taste in shoes and don't seem to care about shaving. Each and every one of them is Venus and Adonis incarnate.

Today, I have been totally schooled in the way of fashion. Yes, it is partly about the clothes, the shoes, the hair, and the sunglasses, but that's only the half of it. It appears that how you wear it all & how you move while you are wearing it is totally the second half of the formula. One must hold the cigarette and move it to their lips with the utmost sultry care. One must shift their hips, swing their leather bag and look over their shoulder with just the right slow languid motion as to imply sex with every nuance.

This is rocket science. This is serious stuff. Those who have not caught on just look like American tourists that can't ever escape their lowly fate. And the key to it all is to look like you don't give a fuck about any of it while you are doing it. There is no place to be. There is no one to impress. You have time for a cappuccino and cigarette. You totally woke up looking like this. You are carefree. Sex oozes from every cell of your being, and remember...you don't give a fuck. You are the most fashionable creature to ever roam the earth.