Late June, a desire for pure white so as not to suppress heat under dark colors. Feel like pure cotton, lace and straw. Feel like riding a hay bale with a bucolic look.
How to (not) ride a hay bale
Maybe because the summer started. Maybe because they see around in all fields or because I wanted to do it for years and finally I took off the whim. I rode a bale of hay. Round, huge, wobbly and pricking but I succeeded. I leave only to imagine the various unsuccessful attempts to climb above it given my well-known little grace and agility. In the end I don’t even remember how she did it. I think jumping and clinging to the opposite end crawling like a snake. Definitely not a pretty sight. Once on the back of the hay bale I played a bit of a diva and a bit of rocking it trying not to fall. Nothing short, a typical ordinary madness of those who never want to grow.
Outfit: bucolic look in white dress and straw hat
I particularly love bucolic items because they speak through the typical craft of the visited place and tell an infinity of stories and traditions. In my opinion it is important not to lose them and try to pass them on as much as possible. I always imagine a lord at work while creating these beauties by weaving strands of straw or embroidering by hand as it used to be. For me it is pure poetry and I would spend hours observing how the object I am about to know is born and grows and maybe I’ll take it home with me.
To ride this nice hay bale I wore bucolic items almost all no brands purchased during some of my travels.
White dress in pure cotton with puffed sleeves and lace work. Bought in Ibiza in the hippy market of Las Dalias. Not to be confused with that of Punta Arabì because there is its difference. Straw hat and bag from two typical shops of Saint Tropez. I do not remember the name but the bag is Article most gettonato of one of the most famous cesterie the country. The leather bracelet instead is a craft market in Tropea with the guy who created them there on time. Finally sandals are H&M.
That’s all from the hay bale, I’m waiting for you at the next outfit.