I never know what to wear to Carnival.
I dream about wearing a Ferrero Rocher, a Tangerine or a Sponge costume but I never do it.
This year was just the same old story. One hour before the party I still didn’t know what to wear so I decided to dress up like me; I was debating between picking men’s clothes or dressing up like some character from the past.
Faye Dunaway, also known as Bonnie. “That” Bonnie that used to hang out with Clyde.
I wore a granny suit, my (ex) favorite Benetton t-shirt, my grandma Tina’s hat, and I was ready to go. I was Bonnie.
I must say that I was really into the character.
Maybe too much. When the party was over I decided to walk all the way home wearing my flat shoes. I have been walking through three different neighborhoods of the city, among different people, and I have realized how different I was in that homogeneous universe of non – homogeneity.
I was’t better or worse, I was just different.
I dove into the silence of Via Vincenzo Monti, then I moved into the noise of Corso Garibaldi all the way to Moscova and I felt so anachronistic.
Everything seemed to be anachronistic in that moment; shop signs, velvet dresses -there were at least 10 girls wearing velvet dresses – food vending machines on the street.
I smiled when I passed by the Cordusio bookshop and the old Fossati theater in Corso Como 15.
Nostalgia: this magnificent feeling that we often underestimate. I love it and I want it to be a part of me; it makes me feel alive when I get to share it with people who can actually understand it.