A Passion for Fashion

For the next few weeks, Jack Sh*t is chronicling his adventures on his recent trip to Italy as well as including tips to help you plan your own international travel. It is his special way of saying "Nanna nanna boo boo, I went to Italy!" to all his loyal readers.

 There we are, at the airport in Milan, Italy, after what felt like a 75-hour flight. It’s mid-morning (after flying all night) and my wife Anita is studying the various options for making our way to downtown Milan. We can take a bus to the train station, we can take a train to the bus station, we can take...

I tell her that we can discuss it in the cab on the way to the hotel. Yes, it’s the most expensive option on the table, but I believe that spending my children's inheritance will teach them an important lesson about character.

At the hotel, Anita succumbs to the lack of sleep and decides to grab a quick nap before our planned afternoon tour.

Brandishing a map and a sense of adventure, I hit the streets of Milan in search of replacement duds since I only have the clothes I’m wearing after losing my luggage on the way over. I gaze at my dozing wife on the very-real chance that this is the last time I will ever see her. After all, I don’t have a stellar track record with not getting lost in foreign cities…

Milan is all about fashion. Armani, Versace, Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Pucci, Gucci and many more took off on Milan’s runways. Fashionistas make a pilgrimage here to shop at the designers’ flagship stores in the Quadrilatero d’Oro (Golden Quad). Clearly, if you need to replace a wardrobe, this is the place to do it!

I spend 20 minutes in one shop before realizing that a silk scarf there would cost more than the best suit I own. The exchange rate isn’t doing me any favors, either; in the great cage fight of monetary currency, the Euro has hit the U.S. dollar with a Spinning Backfist and a cartwheel kick to the throat.

I finally find a store with comfortable, semi-affordable clothing and I load up. I even find
a stout duffle bag so I don’t have to carry all my clothes in a plastic bag like a homeless person.

The checkout lady speaks zero English so I just nod my head when she spouts her jibber-jabber. For all I know, she’s asked “Do you realize that you are purchasing the least fashionable clothes in all Milan?”

Now… which way was that hotel?