The Remains of the Day
Dear Breaks,
Twenty four hours after we arrived on the Tornabuoni Beacci roof terrazzo for a prosecco stop, here we are again. The Anderson & Sheppard team has just left for the airport and I’m awaiting my Better Half with cork popped and acqua frizzante at the ready. Florence is truly a magical city for me. I feel like whistling Consider Yourself from Oliver every time I walk down a street cobbled with stones where once walked Cosimo de Medici, Machiavelli, Michelangelo and Tiny Tempah. Only kidding about the last one. Who is he anyway? I always get Tiny Tempah Will.I.Am and Jessie J mixed-up, don’t you?
What news from the closing day of Pitti? Today was an Anderson & Sheppard day. We had a jolly super time and found what we think are the most masculine quality cotton polo shirts and cashmere/silk three-button sweaters. We also met our shirt makers to discuss some truly terrific absolutely true white cotton work shirts and gorgeous evening shirts for the shop at No 17 Clifford Street. You really want to be in our gang Breaks. We have Anda our fearless leader, we have Audie ’40 years in the business darling’ Charles, we have our financial wizard Andre and we have the baby of the family Emily who is Savile Row’s answer to Audrey Hepburn.
Much jollity last night when we were joined by Billionaire (ex-The Rake) editors Christian B. Barker, Andy Barnham and their best buddy Bob who is quite simply a New York publishing legend. When he told me he was friends with Liza’s third ex-husband Mark Gero I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Bob was also a veteran of Studio 54 and has stories to tell from the basement VIP rooms that would make your eyes stand out on storks. I believe we polished off nine bottles of prosecco on the Beacci terrace before decamping to the most glamorous and top secret courtyard restaurant table in Florence.
But back to today’s activities. Terribly sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye to Sibilla but will text this evening with a ‘where’s the best and closest beach to spend the weekend?’ SOS. I didn’t pack my slutty Aussie Bums but can always buy a pair in Positano tomorrow. Not a clue where we are dining tonight but it is a gruesome twosome with Better Half so somewhere with a modicum of romance will be rather nice. We could do worse than the turret on the terrace at the Beacci just large enough for a table for two and an ice bucket. I know Dorothy always says ‘there’s no place like home’ but all I can usefully add is ‘there’s no place like Florence’ when Pitti Uomo is rocking it out with class, elegance and va-va voom.
Until next time,
James.
