OTF 9: Ciao Readers I am in Italy and I am Thriving and I have so Many Friends and Romantic Interests
Ciao readers! This is the first time I am tappin in while in Firenze! If you are not aware, my very fashionable and cute lil butt will be in Florence, Italy for the next four months. Consider me floored, excited, and very cold as I navigate the life of an American fashionista in a new country.
I have officially been a Florentine for little under a week now and already my world has been rocked. Now, I am naturally a person that leaves the future untouched: I do not usually ponder or spend precious time spinning the future on my mind-mill. To me, this is a mechanism I have developed to combat the pure who ever fucking knows what’s going to happen-ness of life. Therefore, while I did expect the city of Florence to be beautiful as it is an art capital of the world, nothing could have prepared me for not only the jaw dropping gaggy beauty of the city, but the sheer size of the works, buildings, doors, cobblestones, lights and all of its glorious parts. Despite my current admiration, upon my arrival I experienced doubts as I questioned whether I had picked the right place. As I was being driven to my check in point, after a fifteen hour travel day, it looked as though I had been plopped into the ninth district of Panem, and not the gorgentina city I had been mentally manifesting. In retrospect, I had come into my first barrier. My first instance of “oh he is so American, knowing nothing about anything.” I say this because later that night I met up with my good friend Natalia who also chose Florence as her international home, and as we embarked on our search for a bite to eat, I just about experienced a heart attack rounding the cobblestoned street corner and being met with the goliath of the DUOMO—one of the main artistic attractions of Florence. Holy fuck you guys it was HUGE. In your head picture a massive building. Now, imagine a building TWICE that size, with not an inch of it left to laziness but, rather, every centimeter covered with artistic genius!! As a gay man and a fashionista I have come to learn of myself that details, whether it be jewelry, lace, phone cases, nail color, really any small personal touch, sparks from my mouth a gay squeal of excitement; I love the small things! Thus, as I attempted to process the goliath of detail that appeared before me, faint almost took over and I had to brace my good sis Natalia to steady myself. Never before have I seen history displayed in the way it is here. Everything, and I mean everything, from the doors, to the walls, to the windows, has a deep, intricate, and beautiful history. Buildings here carry an importance that America lacks. For example, just yesterday as my group and I halted our exploration of the city to eat our paninis (#immersing) I had a moment of realization. As I was halfway to the ground to perform an olympic level handstand, I stopped. No Trey that would not be respectful to the monument that was made in 1460. If it were America, I would handstand, piss on, and do a tik tok dance.
I do have one complaint though. All the damn chairs leave no room for my beloved American slouch! As I sit here typing to you I am forced into the position of chicness. My rebellious fervor is extinguished by this upright backing. Oh Italy, you will pay.
Gripes aside, I have never had more fun being a fashionista than I have here. Coming from the desert and being a California boy at heart, I consider my fashionista artillery kit lacking the ability to dress in the cold. It’s just not something I’ve ever had to do. Plus, I prefer dressing more provocative—showing off what the universe has gifted me (rock hard abs and a gaggy waist to ass ratio). Here, I have been forced to add—through scarves, gloves, layering—the ability to still look cunt even through the cold (a new weapon in my artillery) as I am forced by external circumstances to cover up. It is so easy for me to forget, as I get swept up in the aesthetics of it all, that fashion is utility. And in these climates, I must cover up. I am pushed to forfeit my stunning ring stack for the chic red glove. Interestingly, I have never considered myself to look as sexy as I do in skimpy clothes in jackets, but my mind has been changed. In these short five days I have evolved into a jacketted fashionista. At any moment I can be found chewing on my scarf, or removing my red gloves to light a vogue.
Fashionwise, I have already noticed that this city is swarming with chic. Oh lord it makes me wet. The boots the bags the scarves the jackets the hats the gloves the trenches the flares the earrings the necklaces—America you fucking suck. The Italians are no joke. Even I feel regular at times, and I’m still rocking my clashing patterns and fuck ass mullet. One thing I must recognize, and pat myself on the back for: thank goodness I switched out my studs for hoops.
Today, my gaggle and I took our wallets and our insatiable consumerist appetites to the weekly flea. Holy fuck it was awesome. So much so that me and my good sis Mel considered starting a depop collective where we buy all of the on fleek and on the nose bloke-core clothes, ship them back to the states, and take advantage of all you hungry depopers that aren’t in fucking Florence!!! Further, I am a menace here. Everyone should feel bad for my five roommates (shoutout the boysss) who can’t go anywhere without me trying to get them to wear this jacket or buy this hat or put on these pants or this scarf.
As for my situation here, and I don’t mean to incite jealousy, but I’m pretty sure I won the lottery. First, I have a single in an authentic and wonderfully decorated apartment. This apartment is shared with six awesome boys, two of which are from Berkeley, and they are awesome. Already we have shared laughs, music, and drunk gorging in our chic shared space. Not only do I have a single, but the room was created for two to share, so… I HAVE MADE A MEGA BED! In fact, this is the first time I’ve had the luxury of living in anything more than a twin! And as if it couldn’t get any better, I have a door connecting right into the bathroom! Due to my disproportionate luck I think the program knew something had to be done to ensure equality as a lady deadass came into our home and bolted said door. LOL. Academics wise, I am taking amazing classes. Starting off strong with a classic Italian Languages and Cultures class where we get to do activities created for seven year olds and where I get to non stop play my favorite instrument.. My voice! Second we have my Genius and Innovation in Italian Renaissance Art class where I have already made it in with my professor as I provided the class, voluntarily, with an example of what it would REALLY look like to be crucified as the 1500’s painting we were looking at was not giving realness.. Third, and obviously my favorite, I am in Fashion and Media! The two things I love the most. And already I have gained nuisance status as I have failed to make as much space as I have taken. For the “what is fashion?” the question, I answered first, then a girl answered, then I raised my hand again and gave another spiel on the individual beauty and blah blah blah blah that was fashion. The professor is especially awesome, his name is Fabio and he and I connected as I shared with the class that I had chosen Florence in part due to my hyperfixation with the film Call me By Your Name. At one point in the class he had us all go around and say our names, initiating it with “it will help me to better call you by your name.” So cheeky! Hopefully, if I continue to be a force of nature in that class, Fabio will agree to appear on the OTF podcast where I could really grill him about what is chic and what isn’t.
I can already tell that this experience will be eye opening and life changing. I have already forged amazing new relationships and even got to see Fred Again! Readers, I will make sure to keep you guys in the loop. And please, do not be so jealous. I highkey have an ingrown toe nail.
