Jewels: A never ending​ fascination


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After hunger and thirst, and the need to keep you warm comes the need to embellish your neck, ears, fingers.It is not by chance that, whenever you visit a national museum in the antiquity section, you will always find a piece of jewelry next to the knife and thw bowl.

From diamonds to plastic beads you buy on the beach, jewelry never fails to fascinate me. I might not buy them, but I always look at them. A few years ago I toyed with the idea of getting more involved in this sector, took a weekend course, invested in a box of beads and few tools. I was used to finding making necklaces, bracelets and earrings relaxing. Predominantly for self- consumption and taking inspirations from the likes of Marni, Lanvin or Brunello Cucinelli, I managed to sell few through a boutique, gave some to my friends as a gift and mostly I was wearing them. Every time I was wearing one of my pieces I was receiving attention, if not positive feedback. But getting people from liking to buying them was another story. Not only I wasn’t the most gifted maker, but also none of mine designs were originals, so the idea of making a little independent business out of it didn’t make any sense. Then I started looking around and realized that there are a few very gifted and brilliant jewelry designers out there. Here I have enclosed a selection of my favourite, whose future is – no doubt – shining. All spotted at Scoop Internation Fashion Show London.


Chupi is an Irish designer, making gorgeous delicate gold jewelry inspired by the beauty of natural and wild things. Acorns, swan feathers, tiny twigs catch the eye of Chupi Sweetman-Pell and she turns them into beautiful pieces of jewelry by casting ‘the already perfect forms of wild and natural things’. Irresistibly drawn to ‘wild and natural things’ she began making jewellery by casting found items including swan feathers, tiny twigs and acorns and found there was a real market for these pieces. Having met her at the fashion fair Scoop London, I was enchanted by her positivity and enthusiasm: “My jewellery is made for your inner magpie, delicate pieces in sparkling gold and silver with the shiniest semi-precious gems. Each piece is handmade with love.”


Xtra Start Jewelry 

If colored gemstones are your things, XSJ will make you feel like a kid in a candy store. I am a fun of colored stones, especially if set in contemporary design. XSJ offer a lot or ranges, different styles that share one characteristic: each stone is handpicked, which guarantees a high level of quality and is as close to perfection as it can get.

I remember spotting these pieces a year ago and longing for them. The only trouble is there too many pieces I like, starting with the Aurora collection, where it is all about Rose Quartz and two shades of Smoky Quartz, followed by Carry me, that reminds me a lot the iconic Pomellato piece at a fraction of the price, and to finish with the Full Bloom collection, where rings can also be worn stacked together.



Mirabelle’ s pieces cached my attention on a rainy day when I found shelter in the V&A and spotted some quirky and surprisingly wearable little pieces. I then discovered that the designer behind Mirabelle is Veronique Henry. Working from her North London studio, she draws inspiration from different cultures from across the globe, favoring the East, creating simple, beautiful, fair trade pieces by hand.

The brand has gone far since the day I discovered it, having caught the attention of some major stockists, and it is now available at Fenwick’s Bond Street, and Anthropology.


Celia Brown

Célia Brown is a Swiss born designer living in Geneva. Her experiences in India generated the aesthetic essence of her collection, reflecting this complex and multifaceted country. Her pieces are best when combined, in my opinion, creating unique shapes to letting originality speak. Using the words of the designer Celia: «The first idea was to recreate a little totem, simple, efficient and graphic, with a nice color scheme”.






The brands mentioned in my blog are my personal preference and are not PR driven.


Conservation and innovation for the Italian School of London


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Italians like doing business in London and are here to stay, soft or hard Brexit. The love affair with West London is still going strong, at least for those who can still afford it, or got there first, and set roots in leafy Notting Hill and surroundings.

A statement of their commitment is the newly refurbished and extended Italian School in London, a full time bilingual Italian and English Primary School with Nursery, located in one of the nicest roads in the upmarket Holland Park.

The education model integrates the British system – in particular its educational objectives and teaching methods – with the Italian curriculum, merging the best of both worlds, using the words of their founders.


The school originally opened in 2010 to accommodate a limited number of pupils. The growing number of Italians – most of them bankers and professionals – that have chosen the UK capital to do business and start a family has been increasing steadily for the last six years, and despite the uncertainty triggered by the referendum, it doesn’t look like it is going to stop anytime soon. So more people means more families and children, and higher demand for more space to accommodate pupils.

The difference between junior schools that most of us attended and this one are staggering. While our chairs were old and made of the cheapest possible materials, the desks scribbled all over it and were dated pre Second World War, these are colourful, ergonomic and have the signature of leading design firms behind them.



And that is the interior. This new development, which features a glazed walkway through the courtyard between the two properties on the first floor, was executed and delivered by JT Lab, architecture and design firm based in London, led by two young Italian architects.

The project presented a high level of complexity and challenges, such as the conversion of a listed building, located in a conservation area, from residential to school, the redesign of the inner space to efficiently enable a smooth connection between the original building and the new one, delivered within a tight deadline.


Tiziano Massarutto, principal at JT lab and project lead said: “We are delighted with the new building. We got there after facing several challenges, such as matching the features of the building and the need to deliver a space suitable for young children and their educational needs. We are very proud of the result, having delivered it on time, within budget and to high standards.

While we were working on this project, we thought a lot about the users of this space, the children and their teachers. Putting their safety first, their experience at school, and their desire to have fun at school, we designed this space around them. This school, which features Italian leading furniture companies for their interiors, is a child-centric space, and I hope my little daughter will be able to study here in few years time”.


Five storeys are not enough


I remember that, not too long ago, Soho square was a place you walked through quickly, keeping an eye on your purse while walking fast. The park in the middle of the square wasn’t regarded as the most salubrious of central London and its reputation was justified. Now it is media land, rental space is one of the most expensive of the capital, the restaurant scene is thriving and it remains one of the main areas for going out. Soho is still seedy, grants a level of anonymity and invisibility as nowhere else. It is a place where you can walk on your own and change the course of your night just by choosing a door, or not. In the land where everything is possible, there was still a corner ripe for development.


Until now. At the corner of Soho Square and Soho Street the scaffolding have finally come off and a new bar/ restaurant/ fun place is there. Called Six Storeys, it is what it says. It is having a soft launch this month, inviting few lucky ones to eat, drink and be merry.camm-and-hooper-vbh-432

The overarching theme running across this six storey townhouse is prohibition, quite appropriate considering the location and its long standing reputation for vice and underground life.

The drinks list is extensive and showcases that – Brexit or not – London is still a destination for innovation and talent, in the media, in the tech sector and when it comes to food and drink. Where else can you find a 72 hour Fig or Apple Pie infused Martinis or a savoury, Venison and Summer Truffle Gin Cup? Or a Burnt Toffee Scotch Old Fashioned, a Rose and Cocoa infused Vodka or even a Peanut Butter flavoured Rum. Luckily this will not only be a place for drinks, but food will be high on the agenda and served through the day.


The venue will then officially open from the 3rd January 2017.


Get there soon, before everyone hears about it and gets impossible to get a table.

Jerusalem, magic madness


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Jerusalem Western Wall

Jerusalem is a crazy place, and not only because of the well documented Jerusalem Syndrome: a phenomenon where foreign visitors suffer psychotic delusions, believing that they are figures from the Bible –  Jesus himself, or the Virgin Mary.

Israel’s health ministry records around 50 cases a year (!) where a tourist’s delusions are so strong that police or mental health professionals are forced to intervene. Many more incidents go undocumented on the streets of Jerusalem’s Old City.

So I went there last weekend, for four busy days as a mid-season break, with some welcome sunshine and temperatures that made me forget about the dark days of November. I had no time to prepare and draw an itinerary. All I knew is that I was in for some sunshine, chickpeas and a place like no where. So I took the passenger’s seat – quite literally – and let the locals take the lead. The Lord and I were very lucky, as we were guests of two friends, both diplomats, who took us around and let us travel seamlessly through the Jerusalem and its neighbours.

In the space of few days, we were exposed to a very different world to the one we are used to. If where we live danger is represented by cars and domestic accidents, there things take a different level.

The best way to capture what we experienced, is by impressions, themes and places.

First the queue. Arriving at the airport means passport check, which takes a long time. I have a particularly large share of bad luck when it comes to picking the queue, and we ended up in a very slow one. Luckily I also have sharp elbows, I haven’t turned into a Brit yet and jumping the queue doesn’t make me feel ashamed. The first similarity with Italy.

Objects for sale in a Jersualem Market

Religion. Jerusalem is like the Disneyworld on steroids of all religions, and I hope no one gets offended, but no place in the world represents the three major monotheistic religions in such proximity. Jerusalem is a disputed city under military surveillance that attracts faith, hopes and spirituality, but also a special kind of madness. It is mad approaching a sacred place and having to go through security checks. It is mad that the most sacred places are treated as a canvas for selfie sticks and that plastic bags, iPhones and tacky “made in China” items are rubbed against anything that is a sacred symbol.

Weapons. The soldier patrolling the street is a 21 year old girl who carries a massive rifle and takes a selfie, looking fierce and sexy. It is mad that I can walk around and pass smoothly through checkpoints because I am sitting in a car with a diplomatic number plate, while the lovely man called Sami, who was our guide in Bethlehem and the Church of Nativity cannot leave his city, leave alone his country, and that for certain groups of Palestinian is nearly impossible to pass through the checkpoints.

Divisions. Not only religious but territorial. Israel is divided into regions, “Area A” (larger cities under Palestinian Authority control) and “Area B” (smaller villages that are, in simplified terms, under joint Israeli-Palestinian control, sharing Palestinian and Israeli security control and includes the vast majority of the Palestinian rural areas), and “Area C,” the part of the West Bank under full Israeli control.

The Med. Jerusalem reminded me of Italy, of the Mediterranean all together and for that very simple reason, I felt at ease.

Table Served With Middle Eastern Traditional Dishes

People. With the exception of the kind guide Sami, everyone I met was two things: expat and strong-minded. Amongst them an American young lady who just resigned from her job at the Embassy, as she doesn’t want to work for the Donald.

Peace and olive trees. We went for late lunch to Hosh Jasmin, an organic farm and restaurant set on a hillside in the Bethlehem-area town of Beit Jala. Great food, relaxed service – maybe a bit too relaxed for our habits – and beautiful setting, overlooking the valley. We had a drink in the garden and then moved to the restaurant’s porch overlooking terraced olive groves and winding paths and valleys. It was peaceful, you would never guess a checkpoint is only a walking distance away. A large group of Italians was having a family gathering inside and spent the afternoon eating and singing.

Food: it is a bit like boarding the chickpea express, and I was pleased to discover that the recipes of Yotam Ottolenghi are difficult to achieve even there, where allegedly all ingredients should easily be found at the market. He wrote a book called Jerusalem, but even the locals find his list of ingredients too long and challenging to source.

The Book: Jerusalem: the Biography, by Simon Sebag Montefiore. Montefiore takes the history of the old city from its beginnings as a fortified village through every conquest or occupation. Now that the peace process appears to have finally collapsed, Montefiore’s book indicates that the Jerusalem syndrome of the comparatively few may well affect us all.

Verdict: I will be back. Next time I would also like a flavour of Tel Aviv.







Stranded at home


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Plans and life don’t always go hand in hand.

On Friday late afternoon I was heading to London City Airport on the DLR. I left the office early as planned, was on perfect time, ETA 5 pm for a flight taking off at 6, which is plenty of time for City airport, where you feel you are a member of JetNet and everyone looks like they are running an extremely important business. I had a sleek winter wedding outfit in the bag, alongside a shirt for my husband, which he had left behind.


My planned outfit. Photo credit: dress Hobbs, shoes Christian Louboutin, bag Hugo Boss, fur Canavesi family vintage.


And then come the bad surprise, delivered by the DLR’ tannoy: the airport is shut, as the DLR station that leads to it. However Twitter was saying that the airport was open, so I trusted the social media, absolutely adamant of not letting any incident to ruin my plans. I got off at the last suitable station and had prearranged an Uber to make up for the time I was going to lose. Jumped in the car – which I offered to two strangers in my same situation – and after 250 metres we were stuck in traffic. The road leading to the airport was closed as well. Got off, got the notification of the most expensive 250 metres ever done (£7) and walked, alongside many others, towards the airport. There I waited patiently and shared my pain with a couple of “stranded” fellows. Luckily I got a spot on a step and felt lucky for that. The scene in front of me was quite surreal. Usually, the scene of people stranded at airports are of a colourful mix of individuals, dressed in clothes suitable for the place where they are heading, hence often wearing flip flops and shorts, while here everyone was suited and booted, with compact wheelie bags, dark coats, two phones and a laptop. It felt as if Canary Wharf has been evacuated and everyone carried their belongings in their bag.



Waiting to be told what to do


No news from the airport on what was happening, which turned out to be a chemical scare or the airline, which couldn’t tell me if my flight was cancelled or not and what my options were. We just kept on seeing fire-fighters and police cars arriving and not leaving. The longer the wait, the darker and colder it was getting, and thinner my hopes to get on a fast flight to Edinburgh, joining the husband – who headed there the day before – and friends. So I did what many people did: read my book, pulled out a warm scarf and socialised with a couple of other people in my same shoes and weighted my options.

At 7.30 I turned my heels and decided to head home, having scheduled a call with BA and asked my family to help to find another flight. Sadly, despite all the efforts, no empty seats were heading to Scotland that would have allowed me to make it on time for a wedding that I was expecting to be pretty special. Sorry, I missed your special day Theo and Rebecca! So what do you do with 48 hours ahead with nothing planned, where a good portion of your friends and your husband are not around? You do what you would not normally do, which turned up to be quite blissful and fulfilling. If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Also, our designated cat si(s)tter turned out to be ill, which would have meant that our new member of the family would have been starving.


BoJack sleeps blissfullySo, what did I do?

So, what did I do? While I was walking along the stretched around Hammersmith Bridge, I visited the William Morris Society, mini museum carved out of William Morris’s house, which is a delight for those, like me, passionate about Pre Raffaellites and stylish prints.




Original print by William Morris at the William Morris Society


I discovered that a new little Italian deli is about to open this weekend, went to the market to get fresh fruit and vegetables, watched a silly French movie, cooked a lot for the week, so do not have to face for a couple of days the dilemma “what can I cook in 5 minutes” which I often face at 8.30 pm, tired and starved, and started a new brilliant book called ‘Sixty Million Frenchmen can’t be wrong”, which is turning out to be very similar to ‘Watching the English’. I thought I better get prepared, in the light of the latest EU summit. Alongside plenty of warning of a rough road ahead, the French language, and everything around it, is very much in vogue.

Shoe or non-shoe?


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I always thought that no-shoes party – or no shoe policy – would have been the landmark of my early twenties/ party years. Now it turns out they are still very much a common trait of my cappuccino years, as I rebranded my early thirties.

If ten years ago no shoes seemed like a funny and slightly anticonformist idea, today the no shoe policy is so mainstream that not only guests but even workmen like plumbers, bricklayers and builders offer to take off their shoes when they cross your door, without even being asked.
When you visit people’s houses, the no shoe policy is well documented and explained. The reasons go from we have young children and do not want to expose them to germs, to we just have a new parquet to we do not want to disturb our neighbours, to we have a new carpet. But the latter is not something I have heard in person. I cannot be friend with someone who would choose to carpet the floor. All valid reasons, and I respect them.


Theresa May and her shoe


But I am less than thrilled when I am asked to take off my shoes. The first reason is cultural and it is wired in my brain. I have never seen anyone asking you to do so in Italy. Quite the opposite: when someone is visiting you, you probably are going to put on your shoes, to be more presentable and on the same level. Slipper, flip flops, barefoot is to be seen only amongst intimate and immediate family.

Floors are meant to walk on with or without shoes, and that applied to timber, marble and anything in between.
Ask yourself this question: if the Queen or the Prime Minister would visit your house, would you ask them to take off their shoes? The answer is surely no. Because you want to honour those important people, not make them feel diminished or sartorially castrated.
The second reason is purely selfish and aesthetic. Without shoe I feel short (even if I am not) and deprived of my outfit’s foundation. As per many people, shoes are the base and the pinnacle of my style, or I like to think so. And if I spend a good percentage of my salary on a pair or shoes, I want for as many people as possible to look at them, and for women to admire. Shoe are important and not an optional.



Of course, I would never refuse, if asked.

Now, this comes the confession. I hosted a no shoe party six years ago. No royals or members of the Cabinet were in attendance. The reason why I deprived my friends of such an important accessories was simple: laziness and selfishness. I hosted a rather large party with about 50 people coming in and out just before Christmas, in a small one bedroom flat.No one likes scrubbing the floor while hangover the day after. I was more interested in making things easier for me. And that is fine too.



The best Car Boot sale, a Jewellery brand to follow and a month to Photo London


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I haven’t written an original line here for such a long time that I almost had to retrain on using WordPress. I hope the wait is worth it and the next few months are going to be more manageable than the previous ones, leaving me a bit of time and headspace for inspiring things. car

While I wait for spring to sprang, here are three things worth sharing and recommending. A disclaimer: this post has a very high rate of fashion (in the broad sense) content. But it is all for a good cause. Boys, you are warned.

Fashion for a good cause

If I were spending this weekend in London, I would be heading to this Car Boot Sale. Instead, I will be celebrating a very important 90th birthday. Not the Queen, but a patriarch that has welcomed me in his large – and sometimes overwhelming – eclectic family.

Alex Eagle, founder of The Store— boutique for the girl who own everything and wants the next cool thing – has teamed up with Women for Women International in support of the charity’s work on its #SheInspiresMe campaign.

Young Beautiful Women Girlfriends At Flea Market Looking For Bag

The event takes place at Brewer Street Car Park – re launched as a fashion venue during one of the last London Fashion Week. The Gotha of British Fashion world is going to be there, with the promise of emptying their wardrobes for charities. The larger than life Charlotte Tilbury is also on hand for mini makeovers. Seeing her at work is worth a visit.

Car Boot Sale, Saturday April 23, The Store x Brewer Street Car Park, London, W1F 0LA; @thestoresdotcom @womenforwomenuk

From Spain with Love

Last week I had the pleasure to preview the latest collection of Tartesia, a sophisticated and contemporary new jewellery brand. This is the kind of jewellery that girls buy for themselves, for their friends and enjoy wearing everyday. Sophisticated and contemporary, each piece is precious and versatile, adds some light but doesn’t attract too much attention.


The lovely founder is Selina Ashdown, a Londoner whose heart was made in Spain. After a successful career in public relations and strategy consulting, she moved to Spain for love. She discovered the exquisite quality of artisan jewellery in southern Spain, where Tartesia’s pieces are manufactured.

The name TARTESIA is derived from the Bronze Age kingdom of Tartessos, a rich and splendid culture from southern Spain, admired for their early advancements in metallurgy to craft exquisite jewellery and treasures.

Somerset House Delight

Somerset House

Somerset House in The Strand

I love photography. It is easy, immediate and a medium we are accustomed to. Collectors, museums and auction houses have realized that it is having a moment. Hence Photo London. Launched a year ago, it was an astonishing success. The next edition is in less than a month, and I have already registered my ticket. With 90 exhibitors, 480 artists, 33 talks, 4 exhibitions and 2 installations, PhotoLondon at Somerset House definitely has a lot to offer. Probably a bit too much, as the Somerset house can be quite tortuous and a bit claustrophobic, but worth paying a visit. Apparently this year the fair will take over a pavilion built for the occasion in the Fountian Court. There a lot too see, to buy and aspire to. Top of my list: Erwin Blumenfeld’s Vogue cover images, and more recent work by Patrick Demarchelier, Bob Carlos Clarke and Thomas Struth.



Non sopporto i finti poveri



Da LaRassegna

Si è conclusa di recente la prima London Fashion Week del 2016. Se dovessi scegliere una parola per riassumere quello che ho visto, sceglierei frugale. Ho visto scendere dalle auto sponsorizzate e lucidate donne e uomini vestiti come se fossero dei senzatetto. In questo periodo dell’anno tutto è enfatizzato, ma non serve essere parte di questa selettiva tribù per abbracciare questo stile. Basta camminare su una strada qualunque, da Castione a Barletta, e accorgersi che jeans strappati con buchi enormi in zona ginocchia, orli sbrindellati, magliette con il buco, giacche con le toppe attaccate, sono la norma. In Giappone vendono jeans che sono prima stati dati in pasto alle tigri, e poi rivenduti a caro prezzo. No, non si tratta di uno scherzo. Adidas vende scarpe con delle finte macchie di fango, Diesel propone jeans spuzzati di vernice e pittura, come se fossero stati usati per tinteggiare casa. Chi ha un budget limitato può trovare nella rete istruzioni dettagliate e suggerimenti per invecchiare, sgualcire, e direi rovinare, un paio di pantaloni nuovi e perfetti, usando lamette da barba, carta vetrata e candeggina.
Lo stile “usato e martoriato” non si ferma agli abiti. Ho perso il conto di quanti amici hanno in cucina una credenza strappata alla discarica e ritinteggiata, o le cassette della frutta del mercato smaltate e trasformate in porta oggetti. Nessuno sceglie il marmo per il bagno o i pavimenti. Si preferiscono le assi di legno vissute, i rubinetti di metallo opaco e i mattoni a vista, come se non ci si potesse permettere di rifinire i muri.

Per la maggior parte della storia, abiti vecchi e consumati erano l’unica opzione, e chi si poteva permettere bei vestiti li indossava con orgoglio. Il fenomeno di apparire dimessi è relativamente recente e portatore di rottura e contestazione delle regole. Pensiamo al look libero e trasandato degli hippy, i tagli e le spille da balia dei punk, i grunge degli anni ’90. Il denominatore in comune è il momento storico in cui sono nati, segnato da pace e prosperità, in un’era che si può permettere il lusso di scegliere. Se per i nostri nonni abiti dimessi erano un segno di tempi di guerra, fame e ristrettezze, il look stressato e dimesso tanto di moda adesso può rappresentare diverse cose: lo stato d’inquietudine e afflizione nella quale si trova la nostra società, la risposta ad un contesto che ci bombarda di nuove tendenze ogni tre mesi, istigando una fame insaziabile al consumo, abiti prodotti a costo bassissimo, di altrettanto bassa qualità, spesso in condizioni di lavoro disumane. Se una maglietta costa quanto un gelato, il motivo lo sappiamo bene. Un altro motivo è invece la “sindrome di Maria Antonietta”, dove chi ha troppo di tutto, si diverte a travestirsi da povero solo per il gusto di apparire diverso e interessante, o perché ha già indossato velluti, pizzi e sete e desidera qualcosa di diverso. Basta pensare ai guru della Silicon Valley, tutti in felpa sgualcita e maglietta, cercano di apparire modesti quando hanno un conto in banca a sette zeri e l’aereo privato. Oppure non c’è nessun significato sociologico ma è solo e semplicemente moda.

Latino vs greco, la spuntiamo sempre noi


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Da LaRassegna

Mi sarebbe piaciuto essere parte del pubblico in sala ad un dibattito che si è tenuto alla fine dello scorso anno sul tema “Grecia contro Roma”. Organizzato da Intelligent Squared, un’organizzazione culturale che mette insieme temi di attualità e opinionisti di spicco, a volte in forma di dibattito, altre volte in stile tavola rotonda. Questa volta si è trattato di un dibattito, di quelli che piacciono tanto agli americani e che vedremo presto in preparazione alle loro elezioni. Il tema era: chi ha portato maggior contributo alla società moderna occidentale, i romani o i greci? Letto da noi, potrebbe sembrare una domanda che viene posta agli studenti dell’ultimo anno di liceo classico o che potrebbe fare da sfondo ad una discussione semi-intellettuale da circolo letterario di provincia. Invece ha attratto grandi numeri, e lasciato molti interessati a bocca asciutta.

Partiti con mille posti a sedere, gli organizzatori, alla luce dell’interesse da evento sportivo, hanno spostato l’appuntamento in un teatro da 2.200 posti, venduti in poche ore, nonostante i biglietti fossero alla cifra non proprio abbordabile di 50 pound (circa 60 euro). Mi sono quindi aggiunta alla lista d’attesa, ma ancora senza successo. A dibattere non erano due sconosciuti o accademici noti solo agli addetti ai lavori, ma il sindaco di Londra, Boris Johnson, classicista laureato a Oxford, e Mary Beard, professoressa di cultura classica a Cambrdige e divulgatrice, che con i suoi programmi di successo su questa materia per la BBC, e un paio di best seller, ha risvegliato l’interesse del grande pubblico su Roma e l’impero romano. Altri autori hanno pubblicato libri di grande successo sempre su questi temi, negli ultimi mesi, a cui si sono aggiunti spettacoli teatrali, altri show televisivi e un vero e proprio festival della classicità in un teatro un po’ d’avanguardia.

Insomma, tutti gli indizi per stabilire che è davvero il momento dei classici. Ma perché proprio adesso?  La risposta non può essere soltanto che una manciata di nomi noti abbia deciso di cavalcare il tema dell’antichità e abbia divulgato il proprio sapere al grande pubblico, fuori da università e circoli di latinisti e grecisti. Quello che stupisce è l’interesse per questi temi, lingue e civiltà in un paese dove il nostro caro, e spesso considerato anacronistico, liceo classico non esiste e dove queste lingue morte sono insegnate, quasi esclusivamente, nelle scuole private, con una connotazione elitaria molto accentuata. E dove l’istruzione media, o universitaria, non include lo studio del latino. Non è infatti un caso che gli organizzatori di Intelligent Squared, con una bella manovra di pubbliche relazioni, abbiano stabilito di devolvere il ricavato dei biglietti all’associazione Classics for All, che si occupa di introdurre Latino e Greco nelle scuole statali.

Il dibattito tra Roma e Atene ci ha ricordato come i greci amavano assimilare e assorbire le idee dei popoli vicini, che i romani stabilirono per primi l’idea di garantire asilo ai rifugiati e dare lo stato di cittadini dell’impero ai popoli che colonizzavano. Sarà forse per questo, per la magnanimità degli antichi romani, che il pubblico ha deciso di assegnare la palma della vittoria a Roma, con un 56 per cento di preferenze a fine dibattito. Probabilmente senza rendercene conto, migliaia di anni dopo che Roma e Atene resero il mondo un luogo più piccolo e dai confini ben definiti, noi spettatori stiamo facendo qualcosa per ripagarli del nostro debito nei confronti del loro contributo alla nostra civiltà. Come so come è finito il dibattito? Sono riuscita a guardarlo in streaming.

BECOMING: Cindy Crawford at the V&A


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Beauty will save the world.
No wonder it is what allegedly caused a war between Sparta and Athens.

CindyCrawford_cover reprint

It is only when you meet a genuine beauty, that you fully understand those statements.
I met one last week, at the V&A. Not in the plaster court, but in the lecture theatre.
The coolest museum in the world was the location for the launch of Cindy Crawford’s book BECOMING. And she was there. The photography-led book is the chronicle of the American icon and supermodel, where she shares stories of her professional and personal evolution, accompanied by her most iconic images, as well as never-before-published photographs from her personal archive. One of the best coffee-table books that uber cool publisher Rizzoli has released in the last few years. Since I bought the book, I browse few pages a day, like a good drink to sip slowly. The selection is stunning.

Cindy descending stairs in a black maillot and sheer veil © Helmut Newton

I was a child in the 90s and whenever I was going through fashion magazines I was thinking that the women featured on those pages were some sort of godess. These days they look a lot like clotheshorses.

My fashion-eureka moment was a Versace campaign, shot by Richard Avedon. The picture was displayed in the shop window of a boutique few doors from home, in a big poster. They were selling Versace. Now those walls host a cafeteria. All I know is that I wanted the clothes those girls were wearing. Those candy coloured clothes, those beautiful women with tanned legs who probably echoed Barbie very vividly, were the pivotal moment when I fell in love with clothes. And probably with beauty tout court.


Versace campaign Richard Avedon, sometime in the 90’s

Cindy was always my favourite. Today we would call it a girl crush.
On my birthday I discovered she was launching her book, and presenting in London. I had to be there. And I did. I sat in the front row, spoke to her, she signed my book, and we exchanged few words. I am not normally quite like this; I am not usually fascinated by famous people.

©Gilles Bensimon

Cindy with son, Presley ©Gilles Bensimon

During the talk, hosted by Claudia Croft of Style of the Sunday Times, she offered a genuine and sincere look back over her career and life; clearly filled with joy, love but also the devastating early loss of her brother, Jeff, and her parents’ subsequent divorce only a few years later. When asked what beauty is for her, she said something simple and truthful: “Beauty is someone who is passionate about something and is confident”. I will take it with me.

Once at home I felt the urge to watch the video of Freedom by George Michael and Girl Panic of Duran Duran. The 90’s weren’t bad at all.


By Cindy Crawford

With Katherine O’Leary

Hardcover / 8.5” x 11” / 224 pages / 150 colour and B&W illustrations

£35.00 U.K. Rizzoli New York / ISBN: 978-0-8478-4619-1 Release date: Sept 2015