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While I am writing these lines, the 109th edition of Pitti Uomo is coming to an end and I, once again, missed it. “What a Pitti!”, I might say: now, all I can do is scroll pictures from photographers and menswear enthusiasts I follow on Instagram.
Held in Florence, Italy, Pitti runs in January and June, and my preference goes towards the winter edition. Although I don’t look that bad in summer, I think that fall-winter (and even early spring), is the best period to dress when it comes to fabrics, layering and options of outfits. But let’s go back to Pitti and why I envy those who are attending.
Clothes may be regarded as trivialities, but those of you who love to dress will certainly agree with me that these are essential trivialities. I don’t mind being alone wearing a suit or even a blazer, but—as with all passions—it is nice to be around others who are sharing the same interest (or suffering the same pathology?). So the first goal would be to get inspired and enjoy endless discussions over Negronis about soft shoulders, lapels, flannels, tweeds, chukkas, loafers and so on. Yes, I know, trivialities…
Yes, I would love to join this “multicultural sartorial crowd” of passionate men and women from all over the globe who meet twice a year by the Arno River for Pitti. It would also be the occasion to discover brands and artisans, new and old, like the legendary bespoke tailor Antonio Liverano, one who can unite and fascinate gentlemen from different cultures and backgrounds, like Keith Richards’ guitar riff in Satisfaction did with teenagers in 1965. Just like music, menswear has the power to bring us together and the world we are living in definitely needs more of this.
Would Pitti be just another excuse to go back to Italy? I will not deny it. I fancy the idea of travelling to Italy, as in the past centuries, retracing the footsteps of those—like Bizet, Goethe and Stendhal, to name but three—who were doing their “Grand Tour”. Thankfully, my trip to Florence would certainly be more comfortable and less risky than it could have been in previous centuries.
But would I risk the experience of a “Pitti syndrome”, like the French writer got overcome by the well known Stendhal syndrome as he found himself surrounded by the beauty of the Medici city, with so many well dressed gentlemen per square meter ? If so, I would be quick in finding shelter inside the Uffizi Gallery, in a caffè, or in the trattoria “Il Latini”, to regain my composure with a delicious dish of “Pasta al ragù di cinghale”…
Photo Courtesy of Lorenzo Sodi
