Milan, for me, is a feeling.
It's a weave of scents, gestures, and small rituals, like delicate threads of embroidery. It's the golden light that caresses the buildings in the morning, the discreet clinking of Cova cups, and the scent of croissants that reminds me of home. But it's also a quiet corner among the flowers and lit candles of Tearose, where my clothes also find a home.
I love this intense yet gentle Milan, capable of effortlessly combining elegance and authenticity. It's the city of inspirational strolls around the Sforza Castle, of unexpected laughs over dinner at Briciola, featuring the best risotto al salto in Milan, and of sincere conversations accompanied by the authentic flavors of Il Salumaio di Montenapoleone.
Then there's the aperitivo at VMaison, when the city lights up with voices and smiles after a day's work, or shopping at the Orto di Brera, amidst fruit, colors, and scents that tell the story of the passing of the seasons. These are my little daily rituals, my everyday poetry, my way of staying connected to the simple things.
It is energy, elegance, nostalgia and inspiration all together.
An invisible hug that accompanies me wherever I go.
Milan is my city.