IT'S SUCH A NEW LOOK!

Debris and renewal. The fashion in the post war period started again from a simple act of catharsis. The austerity that characterized the years of the war had to be forgotten. The burst of optimism, the new aesthetic dimension took the start in that very discouraged and, years earlier, occupied France. An authentic style and a soft elegance would take the place of the boxy military uniforms. Light skirts, wasp waists and a delicate prosperity would for the next 10 years be the rules that fashion would respect. The author of this revolution was a French designer, Christian Dior.  Exactly the 12th of February 1947 at 10.30 am in the halls of the Maison on avenue Montaigne number 30, he presented his new idea of the woman with a spring-summer collection of 90 models. Carmel Snow, editor-in-chief of Harper's Bazaar, would later name this the New Look. The Maison was flooded with orders from famous international customers from Rita Hayworth to Evita Peron. Dior also began to sell the exclusive rights for the individual models, thus creating a precedent which became later very common, and ensuring that the New Look could be produced all over the world as a international trademark. A new style was born and with it a different concept of fashion came to life.

HEADS. THOUGHTS. MEMORIES.

A head and a thousand thoughts. A head and a thousand hats. Because when you collect them, when you are really passionate about them, it is hard to decide which one to use and on what occasion. My grandmother used to have a lot of hats and she told me she lost them all during the war. Too little time to evacuate and too much pain to think about vanity. She often told me how much she cared about them and she often spoke of the one she wore on her wedding day. It was small, made of felt and with a light gray veil. Her cousins, ​who lived in Florence, had given it to her for the occasion and she always told me that she felt like a diva wearing that hat. Unfortunately she didn’t wear it ever again. She didn’t have the chance, and when the war broke out, the only thing she could save was herself and her child.

I've always found hats very mysterious and I've always loved to wear them without thinking much about how, when and why. I've never had a favorite hat, I always love every single one unconditionally. I always carry them with love. I always display them with great pride.

In front of the old mirror of my grandmother, looking at my little reflection, I feel like a diva too.

ETERNITY

I touched eternity. It was made of colored smoke and distant shadows. Lively laughs, mine. Full of smiles of strangers met by chance.

So small in front of the deep helpless eyes of a 5 meter tall boy. In red glares, smooth as oil, slipping on dark columns.

Fast clouds, noise of leaves, mirrors of mirrors of mirrors of mirrors. Reflected souls.

Smell of coffee, surprised looks, American Indians look from above. Rooms with heavy curtains to cover noise and pain.

A rainbow sky, it is a blessing. The perspective becomes moody. The rain and the wind precede the frames of mind. Staring big eyes, somehow they’re also yours.

Out of the darkness, we decide to live.

BRICKS

A boy runs away from war and finds his first love in Copenhagen.

A little girl of six years goes on a journey from the capital to the north of her country.

Two 20 year old girls get married in a month.

A man chooses a colorful dress for her daughter who turns 15 next Sunday.

A girl who lives in China asks where she can cut hair for an honest price.

A young mother hugs her daughter in front of my eyes.

An old lady touches one of my dresses and smiles at me.

Young women look at my husband, but I don’t mind.

I have a bitter coffee and I think in the end I can get used to that too.

I look above. Beyond the wall, huge green trees are abandoned to the wind and to the memories of their loved ones who are buried there. But on my side of the wall there is still so much life. And here's where I stand, while the dreams of people run fast and let you catch them.