Missoni and Me..and a Torah

It was my mother, with her keen eye and appreciation for quality, who first brought Missoni, the Italian knitwear company, to my attention. Missoni's products are characterized by bold - often zig zag - patterns, bright colors, exquisite workmanship, and eye popping prices. For many years I have been intrigued by their designs, whose wild exuberance both attracts and repels me.

At a department store in Florence I noticed some of the Missoni spring scarf collection on sale, the average price of one being $140 at current exchange rates, or more than double what I would normally spend on fabric neck decor. Would I spring for one, I wondered, after having this fascination with their brand for so long?

A few days later I visited the Jewish Museum at the Florentine synagogue, which housed a collection of older ritual objects. Towards the rear of the exhibit I noticed a Torah scroll covered in a woolen fabric with the unmistakable colorful zig zag pattern that characterizes many a Missoni item. I asked a Museum staffer about the resemblance, and was told that the zig zag is an old Tuscan pattern, which Missoni has adapted if not appropriated.

Returning to the department store on my final day in Florence, I carefully examined the scarves. To buy, or not to buy? Not, as it turned out. I didn't love any of them.

During my final hour in Florence, I hurried up a street I had not been on before. There were many knitwear shops with scarves galore. My time in Italy was coming to an end and I didn't have the luxury of deliberating. I picked up a few at a boutique whose owner seemed indifferent to my presence. Advancing another few blocks, I spotted a sign that said "Missoni Winter Scarves 50% off". Entering the shop, I asked the clerk to see the scarves. She showed me the full priced spring scarves.

"And isn't there a sale on winter scarves?" I asked, a bit sheepishly.

"Yes, they are downstairs. I'll accompany you," she said, turning on the basement light. They had a few scarves left, two of which were potential candidates. While deliberating, I spotted a multicolored item folded on a shelf of a wall cabinet.

"Is that a design for men?" I asked, half hoping it would be so that I would not be tempted.

"No, it's for women. It's a sweater," the clerk said, laying it out on the counter. It had two of my favorite colors - olive green and shades of red orange, along with brown, blue and white. It appeared to be my size, and I was smitten. It was the Missoni for me.

Dare I look at the price tag?

With 30 minutes to go before I had to collect my luggage and head to the train station, I had no choice but to take a peek. The euro total was solidly in the three digits, and still was after the 50% discount. Then came the lousy exchange rate.

"It will last you a lifetime," said the voice in my head.

A few moments passed. The sweater was long, tunic style, and I asked the clerk if she could show me how it looked with a belt. Quite fine, actually.

I pondered.

"I will just get the sweater," I told the clerk.

"But the scarf looks so nice on you," she said, draping it across the sweater, which I was still wearing. Damn, she was good.

"If I buy both," I asked, Israeli style, "can I get a further discount?"

"Well, I suppose we can ask the owner. Why not?" she suggested.

We went upstairs. The owner raised his eyebrows at the proposal - wasn't 50% off enough? - but genially shaved a few euros from the price. He also reminded me that, as a non EU resident and given the purchase amount, I was eligible for the VAT refund, which he could grant on the spot. Punching in a few numbers on the calculator, he showed me the new total.

It was now a number I could swallow.

I signed the receipt and, running several minutes behind schedule, hurried to my bed & breakfast and was still packing my bags when the taxi arrived to take me to the station. What the zig zag clad Torah has to say about all this, I have no idea.

When the Shoes Don't Fit...

Sigh.

My American size 10 feet just can't squeeze into Italian shoes. Normally I'm a European 41, but for some reason the Italian 41 is just small enough to be uncomfortable, especially with my feet a bit swollen from the heat. Forty one is the largest size, at least in the several stores I've attempted to purchase shoes. There are some very cute espadrilles for sale but my big toes practically poke through the fabric.

What to do?

Well, to console myself today I ate some amazing gelato, chocolate with black pepper, a tongue tingling concoction. Ben & Jerry's, take note!

Then I tried on a leather jacket. Too small.

If all else fails I might have to spend some serious bucks on Italian couture....or just keep eating gelato.

Venetian Retail Eccentricities

Some observations on Venetian, or perhaps Italian, retail culture.

1) Many shops have signs that say, "Entrata libera" (free entry). I am a bit puzzled, because it is not as if there are shops that charge admission just to look around. Museums, yes, but stores, no. And none of these shops could be confused with a museum. Hmm.

2) In many cases, it is cheaper (per bead) to buy a beaded necklace than to purchase the individual beads. I asked a shopkeeper why, and her response did not make much sense. She said the necklaces were less expensive because it is more convenient to the customer to buy the necklace than to make it themselves. Wouldn't a person pay extra for that convenience?

3) It seems that the shops that do not have the "Entrata libera" sign have other signs: Don't touch, or No Self Service. Now, these stores have the atmosphere (but not the appearance) of a museum, where everything on display (mostly glass art) is too precious to be handled. As a tactile person, I am not crazy about these shops and often I don't even bother to go inside.

4) Pastry Bars. Perhaps the rest of Italy has these, too, but Venice is the first place I have encountered the pastry shop and bar in one retail establishment. An interesting concept! Italians come here for a drink after work and to eat pizzetti (tiny pizzas), whereas I have ordered some tiramisu or a chocolate potato (a dense tuber shaped concoction of cocoa, liqueur, and other goodies, with a grape center and dusted with cocoa powder). Initially the bar aspect turned me off but the desserts I have sampled so far have been exceptional. Maybe I'll be ordering grappa to go along with it in a day or so....

Clothe a Cold, Float a Fever?

So, I am sick, feeling a bit hot and feverish with a stuffed nose. Not a big deal, just my body trying to tell me to rest after my insisting that it be active in the heat (both in Israel and Italy) after not sleeping well for quite some time.

Had I been truly wise, I would have stayed in my hotel room all day, only leaving to drink tea and eat fruit. Except that, with all my Internet savvy, I managed to book a real doozy of a hotel room (up four full flights of steps, plus the room itself is really an afterthought - someone plastered over part of a hallway, added a cheap door, and now they charge a small fortune for it!). Since ascending to my room is worthy of a stairmaster workout, I am loathe to descend without a very good reason, yet I could not imagine lying there all day, being sick AND annoyed at myself for having a room with no view (the windows are positioned above eye level; yes, I tried to switch rooms but they are fully booked).

So, I planned a relatively easy day, squeezing as many vaporetti (water bus) rides out of my $40+ tourist pass (valid for 72 hours) as possible, before it expires tomorrow afternoon. In other words, I went island hopping, traveling from Venice to Burano (known for its lace and extremely colorful houses), then to Torcello (a small island with a very valuable gold mosaic in its basilica and a bell tower with a tremendous view of the lagoon), changing boats in Burano to return to Murano (for a final look!) and then back to Venice. The water and the breeze were refreshing, and I probably spent a few solid hours floating around, not exerting myself. Even climbing the bell tower was relatively easy; instead of lots of steps some genius had built a ramp. Hallelujah!

Early this evening, returning to a street vendor who was selling some unique lampshades which I thought might look fun in my studio, I spotted another interesting shop. And despite my repeated vow (OK, I say this silently, so no one has actually heard me) that I am not going to buy another thing, I spotted a greenish, velvety-ish and ruffly-ish jacket, a more flamboyant version of the top I wore to my chocolate party. It fit. It was also heftily marked down from a stratospheric price to one in the double digits. I pounced.

We shall see if clothes shopping is a cure for my cold. I hope so!