Discover more from All's Well by Nadine Zylberberg
Hi friends! Shana tova to those who observe; and wishing a good weekend to those who don’t. Today, we’re doing tashlich, wherein we cast sins into a moving body of water in the form of pieces of bread. It’s a meditative act, done between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, that helps me really reflect on the last year in a concrete way. Before that, though, I’m here to tell you about my zippy quick girls’ trip with my mom!
We spent three days in Milan, where we walked and walked and walked. We ate beautiful food and bought beautiful things and ogled beautiful people. Milan is one of those cities where I don’t feel bad for not taking in the “sights” or ticking off the standard checklist. (Actually, I don’t feel bad about that anywhere, do what you want where you want! is my travel motto.) The culture seeps in wherever you go: a morning produce market, a family-owned lingerie shop, a Max Mara dressing room.
I’m so grateful for the days with my mom in this very special city. We took our time, we drank good wine, we talked. As much as I missed my crew, there’s value in a few moments to step outside the day-to-day and take in a different city in this way. I came back to a family cold and a week without childcare, and I can safely say this trip powered me through it, and then some. As it turns out, a seven-hour flight without kids is a luxury, even for this nervous flier.
So, today, some of the things we saw, ate, and did.
Well Fed
Give me a shout if you’re headed to Milan and I’ll talk you through some more restaurants, but for the sake of brevity, I’ll give you a sandwich, a pasta, and a tiramisu that I still think about and where to find them:
Sandwich: There is always a line at All’Antico Vinaio, but don’t let it deter you. Within 10 minutes, you’ll have a big square sandwich in your hand (preferably filled with meat or burrata or dried tomato—or all three) with piping hot bread. Walk thirty feet ahead and eat it on the steps of an old church. Marvel at how casual it is to be eating a delicious sandwich in such an old and beautiful space. Mind the pigeons.
Pasta: There’s no shortage of good food in Milan. A local friend told us our first rainy night there that it was the kind of weather for ossobuco and risotto. It’s what we had in the small unassuming restaurant she recommended and it was perfect. I knew she would steer us in the right direction from then on. She also sent us to Stendhal, where the walls are green, the vibe is warm, and the owner will remember a repeat customer. (My mom, who spent far longer than me in Milan with my dad, went back maybe four times.) The green tonnarello with white veal ragù is a standout here.
Tiramisu: Il Salumaio de Montenapoleone is the place to be seen. But, thankfully for us, it’s also the place to see. The most put-together and outrageous outfits could be found here. Doesn’t hurt that it’s in a beautiful old courtyard just off the poshest streets in the city. Solid lunch, but it isn’t complete without tiramisu. I’m starting to think that no meal really is…
I can’t possibly mention tiramisu without sharing one of my favorite moments from The Office, or TV generally:
Well Worn
Okay, now we’ve reached the part where I tell you about my own shopping. Each day we were in Milan, we did most of our purchasing before 10 a.m. How, you ask, if not a single store opens before 10? Well, we went where the chicest women of the city go—markets! Every day, you’ll find a market somewhere in Milan, most likely in a residential neighborhood. On one side of the street, there’s food—nuts, produce, fish—and on the other, clothing.
Everything from fur coats to cashmere sweaters to leather shoes. It can take an hour to make it a block if you’re looking closely and getting to know the vendors. We loved each market more than the last. Even on the final morning of our trip, exhausted and shopped out, we opened our eyes at 7:30 a.m., looked at each other, and jumped out of bed to make it to the market by 8. By the end, we had seen a few of the vendors at more than one market and connected via Whatsapp. We avoided others after waffling and haggling one too many times the day before.
This is a hyper-local way to shop and, to me, the most interesting. We would try on pants behind racks of clothing or shoes on top of broken-down cardboard boxes. With a single glance, an older vendor could tell us each our bra size. Another one unpacked sweater after sweater for us until we found the perfect fit. It’s not fancy here, but it’s where the building blocks of a great outfit come from. Milanese women, it seems, are high-low shoppers. With their Bottega bags and Prada loafers, they would leave these spaces with handfuls of button-down shirts. At one point, I asked a fellow shopper where she got the shirt she was wearing; it turned out it was from this very market early in the summer.
Via Montenapoleone is where you’ll find all the big-name brands, and is worth a stroll in itself. Brera is where you’ll find smaller boutiques lining cobblestone streets, including some hit-or-miss vintage shops. (I once got a great pair of bandana overalls from Madame Pauline.) Get yourself another espresso and you can do all of it.
A few other things I brought home:
A pair of steeply discounted Western mules procured from Prada’s massive outlet in Montevarchi, a town near Florence. (Where my dad went when I insisted this be a true mother-daughter trip. Thank you, pa!)
A snow globe, for my kids’ collection.
An impulse secondhand purchase after I saw an elegant woman in Loro Piana toting around a distressed leather Prada clutch; I got the bowling bag version.
A pair of wool wide-leg, elastic-waist trousers from Max Mara, maker of maybe the best pants and coats.
Well Observed
We happened to be in Milan during fashion week, which meant nothing for us, except maybe more fancy clothes than usual waltzing down the streets. From the shows I perused online thought, a few things caught my attention:
Bottega Veneta’s whimsical animal beanbag chairs. They’re €6,000-8,000 a pop, but my goodness, they are fantastic.
Also, this bag has my heart.
Loro Piana did so much right, head to toe. The colors, textures, and shapes felt just right. Everyone seems to love the quiet luxury brand there. A line snaked around the block for a sweet pastry they were giving out, a Loro Piana fashion week activation that was brilliant in that it placed hundreds of LP bags down and around Via Montenapoleone.
Bally has quietly been rising to the top of my radar, not least of all because of their wonderful shoes. But also, yes to broad shoulders and funky belt buckles. As Rachel Tashjian writes in The Washington Post, “Everything looked delightful and well-made. Your eye could wander over the rounded back of a leather jacket, or feel at ease with the soft bounce of a men’s collarless suit worn with spiked dress shoes.”
Prada said basta to algorithm-fueled dressing (in other words, sameness) and dug into the archive to present individualistic looks. I admire this.
Signing off with an extraordinary ordinary puddle:
It’s always nice, at the end of the day, to return to the comforts of home: your bed, your coffee mug, your TV shows. Are we all watching Nobody Wants This on Netflix? What do we think?
More soon!