ciao, Mr. Sartorialist.

The Sartorialist my louver (and Garance Dore) came to visit Florence for Men's Fall Fashion Preview Week (and to sign my book.)

www.thesartorialist.blogspot.com

The Sartorialist Party at Luisa Via Roma:

I am not wearing a purple Armani (or perfect thrift) suit with oxford shoes made of bamboo and patent leather, stitched with the same color as the scarlet red frames of my thick spectacles, so I stand out alot.

My language does not sound like how butter tastes (I am not Italiano), so I stand out extra a lot.

but if you’re inherently not going to fit in for being American in Italy, you might as well go all the way and place yourself among the best dressed in the world. Glamour’s most hidden, finest patrons. In a glass garden courtyard. there lie the masters of the world.

Where the pear champagne flows like pitchers-of-miller-at-charley’s and real Sartorialists are everywhere.

I told Scott Schuman I was from Missouri.

He told me Missouri (St. Louis- Frontenac) is where he got his first Armani. And like an idiot, who does not know how her questions sound when they come out, I meant to ask him how old he was when he got this first Armaaani, and it came out as (so eloquent):

"Oh! How old are you [Mr. Sartorialist]?"

"---How old am I?"

Wonderful.

buona sera, and ti ami carrie dennis.