Dressing

It’s difficult not to feel sartorially inadequate in Milan. The culture of being well dressed is strong, from the carabinieri swaggering about in their paramilitary uniforms with gelled hair and designer stubble, to the perfectly dressed businessmen with cashmere scarves that cost more than any of my suits, to the elderly men shambling about in bright orange sweaters and still managing to look effortlessly chic.


I’d thought that Milanese men might be well-dressed because they have access to inexpensive but high quality clothes, but this is not the case – clothes in Milan are ruinously expensive even when they are on sale. They are well-dressed because they make it a priority. You can almost see them thinking, “Do I want Grand Theft Auto 5 or this purple lambswool sweater? Well, naturalmente, the sweater. What am I, an animal?”


It leads me to suspect that the main reason why there aren’t many homeless people in Milan is because you can’t plug an iron into a socket if you live under a bridge, and there’s nowhere to store your shoe collection.


I had a look in a few stores to see if I could emulate the style of the immaculately attired Italian men, but sadly I don’t have the correct shape for their slim cut suits, skinny jeans and snug fitted shirts. I’m at a loss to explain how they do it. There isn’t a gym on every second corner like there is in Australia: in fact I can’t remember seeing any at all. And these people eat nothing but carbs, all of which, based on my experience thus far, are absolutely irresistible. They don’t even seem to walk much – wherever I go in Milan the sidewalks are deserted but the roads are choked with Fiats and Vespas. I can only conclude that gastric banding is huge in this country, and mandated by law if your BMI goes over 26.