I exited the Malpensa airport and attempted to hail a cab but some whacked out, red eye, jet lagged version of Spanish / Portuguese / French escaped my mouth. The cab driver looked at me and said, "Where are you going?" After a 45 minute cab ride I ended up at the Hotel Noho in the fashion district of Milan. To be honest the 4-day trip was filled with work and a case of jet lag that could not be defeated.
:: Club Hollywood::
True story I shit you not. We pushed through the crowed club to get to a table that Stefano (Italian Liason) had secured for us in the VIP area. About 30 minutes into being there I see this older man that was short and in the front of a choo-choo line composed of male models. Rogan must have reacted to the look on my face because he leaned over and said "You know Dolce and Gabbana, that's Dolce." I felt like I had spotted the unicorn of fashion mythology. So I figured I'd leave the party scene on a high note and focused my remaining time in Milan towards decadent meals and catnaps.
:: Bebel’s::
On my last night in Milan I opted to go to dinner by myself. I had received a strong recommendation from my good friend Mary Garvin in London. Her text message read, "Go to Bebel’s it is seriously delicious". I strolled into the restaurant with my skateboard under my arm and raised my index finger and said "per una per favore." What Mary failed to mention is that the restaurant was filled with what in New York would be considered the financial district / midtown crowd. Needless to say a bearded American toting a skateboard and sitting at a table alone earned some stares and strange looks. Four courses and a bottle of red wine later I was loose enough that I'm pretty sure I was talking to myself. I left the waitress a good old American 20% tip and high fived her on my way out.
