I've been talking about it a lot * the week I am sharing my TRR Obsessions.

A string of opinionated random thoughts.

Love

• Being devastatingly understated like Tilda picking up the dry cleaning in I am love: the headband, the pearls, the coat.

• Permanently unimpressed, I highly recommend the predisposition at least once a day.

• A vision of a crisp cornflower blue button-down shirt, although Guy Trebay says in the NYT that “Beige is the color of money”. Once the underdog, always the underdog.

• My Obsessions page in TRR where I can recreate a devastatingly understated luxurious life. There’s this Halston set to pick up dry cleaning, and this YSL Rive Gauche or a 1906s Pucci for Trader Joe’s run, this Prada I would wear with this cardigan over the shoulders, or this Bob Mackie with a raincoat and boots.

For nature has very few demands, whereas the tyranny of opinion is immense. - Epicurus, Seneca.

I don’t care

• “The ultrawealthy don’t want to show off.” Seriously dude? We have endured seasons of quiet luxury, stealth luxury, while all we have been looking forward to is being devastatingly understated.

• This week I only Don’t Care once because I feel generous

The sustainability debrief

I am going to say something that doesn’t need a lot of explanation, please just read and re-read:

There’s no accountability without transparency

How do you say it in Italian?

Buona Pasqua! So today is Easter, and here are the many things we used to do when we were kids:

• On Thursday evening, we do la visita delle sette chiese, which means we visit seven churches where the altars have been transformed in tombs (il sepolcro) and the cross is covered with a white cloth and the urn is open; I must confess that the atmosphere is a little eerie, there’s silence except for the creaky wooden pews, and the smell is a mix of lilies and incense. It’s also damn long driving around to visit seven churches. We’d always prefer to do the tour with my grandmother, who didn’t drive, so she would make us go in and out several times from the same church, and no, it wasn’t cheating, because we’d say the same prayer each time, which I think is the purpose of the seven visits? Frankly, I don’t know why we had to do that, but it was an event, and that moment we’d kneel to pray was powerful, or scary if you didn’t remember the whole prayer, because … Jesus knows!

• On Good Friday we only eat fish, no meat. If you eat meat by mistake … you go to hell.

• During Sunday mass, we receive the blessing of the hard-boiled eggs that we’d proceed to eat in the tortellini in brodo, followed by roasted lamb and potatoes. Dessert la colomba, which I never liked, tastes like panettone but is shaped like a dove.

• Kids receive the l’uovo di Pasqua, the Easter egg made of chocolate and wrapped in brightly colored tinfoil with a gift inside. If my egg was milk chocolate I would be pissed for the rest of the day.

• Monday is lunedí dell’Angelo and it’s festa, we don’t work or go to school, and you can wear jeans for the first time, kinda like white on Memorial Day. As a matter of fact, I grew up being told that jeans are cotton, therefore too cold for winter, too hot in the summer, so spring is the season.

I am not clear of the exact meaning of every single one of these customs, other than probably the symbolism of the eggs that I see reflected anywhere else. But I remember all the feelings, tastes, and smells.

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