Haggling over Pucci at the fleas and boiling americanos with three ice cubes: yup I’m in Italy

I’m currently sitting at a beach club in Ischia…bikini is cheetah print, gel x nails are Carmela Soprano (just transitioned from acrylic to gel because my nail tech told me I’m the only person who still does acrylics? Is this true or did she just get me??)

I’m taking inspiration from Camela and Rosalie’s Paris trip just minus all of the trauma. Maybe I’m more on a Ro vibe.

My hotel feels like the estate sale of a chic widowed woman who decided to never acclimate to the present day. Giant vases greet you as you walk in, as you exit the elevator, as you pass a pillar. A nightmare for Americans who love to use their elbows. Luckily I’m not that bad but I’ve seen some close calls.

Colby and I came to Italy (Rome) for a wedding, took a Tesla cab to a train to a ferry and are now meandering around, “island hopping” or whatever 😬.

I obviously went vintage shopping in Rome and it is everything I could’ve hoped for and more. Flea market sellers huffing cigs and pricing everything at €50. More on that later.

Last night Colby found a locals only kind of pizza place, reviews said it was the spot to hang after a birthday party or baptism. After a 20 minute ride to the edge of a forest, it turned out to be closed. These things happen to Colby all of the time so it wasn’t much of a surprise. The taxi driver, a nice woman in a purple leopard print dress who was driving us around with her grandson sleeping in the passenger seat, called her son to ask if he could call a different restaurant.

Once she got the okay, we were carted up another mountain, whipping in a van with broken seatbelts…L.A. people would love Italy because everyone texts and drives, it’s almost amateurish and lame if you don’t. We got dropped off at a giant estate of a restaurant, than also seemed to be an apartment building.

All the while, a semi raging fire was in the canyon next to us, but when asked, no one seemed to be affected or care. They only said, do you mind smog?

Ash rained down from the sky for a few minutes but it really just added to the ambiance. By the time the fried squid got to our table the smoke was a mellow light gray.

After our meal, the restaurant owner called our taxi driver’s son, who picked us up. While maneuvering the winding roads he scraped a wall, “but don’t worry,” he said, “it’s my wall.”

He showed us a picture of a singer from Santa Barbara and asked if we knew her. In her late 50s, she sold everything and moved to Ischia. A bad divorce might’ve been part of the story too. Anyway, they were friends.

This weekend I’ll be petting all of the local stray cats and hoping I don’t get rabies again, but for those of you in L.A. looking for cool pieces and sickening deals, I have eight estate sales below. A few time capsule homes, some so bad it’s good art, and art deco decor for those with taste. A lot of vintage clothing sales too… From vintage Chanel, Vivienne Westwood, to West Coast Choppers and all over print Harley tees.