Classic, always. A summer, many years ago, my mother – who was close to her eighties – was invited for dinner by a couple. One of them showed up at the restaurant with combat boots, ripped jeans and tank top; as I recall he wore around his wrist a nice series of studded black leather bracelets. The day after my mother, who was very open minded but there’s a line, with her quiet tone of voice told me that she had found a little inappropriate inviting an elderly lady and showing up dressed like Tom of Finland (this is mine, it goes without saying that mum didn’t know the character by Touko Laaksonen). She stuck to the most classic of the classics: “In the end, what does it take? I didn’t expect the jacket: a nice white shirt with dark trousers and you never go wrong”. Maybe even mum knew that in addition to not making you look bad ever, a simple white shirt with a barely starched collar can be even sexy.

Brunch-time is one of the best times of the week, a context of space and time either short or long lasting, without any rules. I like it because you can be alone, in New York as in Milan without having the feeling of being watched, perhaps by commiserative eyes. I like that leisure atmosphere, having no constictions and no particular etiquette to follow. I like it because it marks the end of the week leading you through sweet and savory to the beginning of a new one, an interlude of bacon, fried eggs and muffins. The best one, I have to say, is the brunch in Paris: at the Cafè du Palays Royalafter wandering around the jardin or any brasserie in the Marais or Saint Germain de Pres. The typical Parisian’s artistic (also slightly cheeky)temper, is quite fashinating. They are the only men in the world who can manage to look attractive even before shaving, hiding their uncombed hair under unconvincing ugly hats, wearing large shapeless cargo trousers and pulling them off incredibly well pairing them with worn out monk strap shoes instead of the same old sneakers. In the picture a ceramic plate by Fornasetti