It’s funny how we spend our life struggling with weight, fighting the scales, and then when a simple little love gone wrong happens, it does the trick in a few weeks. The symbol for love should be the stomach, not the heart! I had also stopped counting calories every time I ordered a drink and – since Milan is known for its happy hour – I had many. At the end of a day drinking two glasses of white wine and eating some focaccia filled me with euphoria. I finally felt happy.
A few days before starting my new job, I stopped by the office to get my contract. The agency’s headquarters were in an imposing building in Viale Zara. After signing a lot of papers, I walked back to the elevator, looking down at my contract. It wasn’t a brilliant idea: after a few steps I stumbled into a small table, lost my balance, and ended up falling into the arms of someone coming down the hall. I looked up to see who had saved me from crashing to the floor. He was a tall, blond guy with the bluest of blue eyes, blue like the colour of the sea. (Sorry, but I can’t help the cliché!)
“Are you ok?” he asked, helping me to regain my balance.
“Yes, I’m fine… So sorry… Thank you!” I felt my cheeks going red.
“It was a pleasure. It doesn’t happen every day that women fall into my arms!”
I felt ashamed. I was such a clumsy fool. He stared at me with a gorgeous smile and I just wanted to disappear at that very moment.
“Thanks again for your help…” I picked my hat up off the floor and quickly pushed the elevator button.
“If you need to stumble again in the future, I hope to be around to catch you…” He had a very charming foreign accent.
I gave him a quick embarrassed smile, before rushing into the elevator.
*
My last weekend of freedom – I had to go back to work on Monday – I decided to make myself beautiful: I needed a lot of work!
I was going to start a new life; I wanted to be a gorgeous babe. Men would stop dead in their tracks to check me out. Men… I was deluding myself again. In reality I knew that the only man that I wanted to impress was Niccolò. I dreamed of taking his breath away – my beauty would devastate him!
First stop: Hair Salon
“You must do something with your hair,” Emma had told me, recommending a prestigious, elegant and expensive salon in the centre of Milan.
“I have always worn it this way, long, down to my shoulders. I like it. Also, long hair makes us look like submissive saints – Mary Magdalene! Men seem to be attracted to that.”
“It’s like a mating call from the Stone Age. To get her to obey, the caveman clubs his woman over the head and drags her easily by her long hair into his cave. Don’t you think it’s time for a change? New life, new haircut.”
I listened to Emma and had my hair cut. My boring, long brunette mane was transformed into a sassy bob.”
“Here you are! You look great!” Emma was enthusiastic.
“Are you sure?”
“Stop being insecure… You look gorgeous. Finally!”
“What was wrong with the old Rebecca?”
“Hum… She spent a lot of time weeping over an idiot, for example.”
“Touché!” I laughed.
Emma was a straightforward person, and she was right, I felt reborn with my new haircut.
Second Stop: Beauty Salon
They made me a new woman! It’s been ages since I’ve had such smooth and luminous skin. And I almost had forgotten how it felt to have no hair on my legs.
“You look so much better, Madame…” the young esthetician told me looking at me with great pride.
“Rebecca is back!” I said to her smiling, as I left the salon.
Saturday evening, I was ready to deal with Milan by night. Claudio had promised to take me to the Navigli neighbourhood to have drinks. I wanted to have a relaxed, fun night, and empty my mind.
I chose my shoes carefully: a pair of jewelled sandals that I matched with an elegant, short, dark brown dress. I love sheath dresses; I couldn’t live without them: so feminine and transgressive at the same time. Everyone remembers the indispensable little black dress, thanks to Audrey Hepburn and her character in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But what most don’t know is the story behind it. Coco Chanel created it many years before the film. She was a revolutionary in fashion as well as being a strong, courageous woman. Imagine being raised in an orphanage and going on to become the most stylish and elegant fashion icon of all time! She freed women from their tortuous girdles and gave them elegant trousers. For this I owe her my gratitude! Although she became a powerful and successful woman, she did have a very troubled love life. I felt like her – an eternal Mademoiselle. Damn love!
When Claudio knocked on my door to pick me up, he was surprised, “Coco, if you continue like this, you’ll make me lose my head!” We laughed and began to walk towards the Navigli in the sunset. I really loved Milan.
When we arrived on the bank of the canal, we sat at a table in an old tavern and ordered a bottle of Gewurztraminer. We wanted to enjoy the evening, to celebrate our friendship, the freedom of being young and single, and the luck to have met each other.
Relaxed and cheerful, we were toasting to life with our third glass, when I noticed someone familiar on the other side of the canal. I stared and for a moment I couldn’t breathe.
Standing there in front of a pub was Niccolò: his tailored shirt with rolled up sleeves, relaxed, charming and smiling like usual.
Claudio noticed I was distracted and asked me about it.
“There is Niccolò!” I whispered, as if he could hear me from across the canal. I tried to hide behind my handbag on the table.
“What?” Claudio asked.
“There is Niccolò!!” I repeated, in the middle of a panic attack.
He looked toward the other side. “Not too bad…” he added.
“Don’t stare at him! And thank you! You don’t need to remind me how beautiful he is.”
“Sorry. I was just trying to tell you that you have good taste…”
“What should I do now? I don’t know what to do!”
“Well, go over and say hello. You look beautiful tonight. You’ll make him die.”
“Do you think so? Oh my god! I really don’t know what to do. It’s a nightmare beyond my imagination. But maybe you’re right. I should go over there, tell him how badly he behaved and show that I’m perfectly fine without him. Because I look good, right?”
Claudio smiled at me and I felt brave. After all I had spent 400 euros on my re-styling and couldn’t miss this chance to show Niccolò how beautiful I was. I wanted to impress him – actually I wanted to make him die!
I stood up unsteadily, then recovered my balance and, thanks to the wine I had drunk, I felt like the most beautiful woman on the canal bank. I slowly climbed the steps and began to walk across the bridge. When I was half way there, I saw a figure approaching Niccolò.
It was Anna! She wore an off-white dress that made her look slender and feminine. The wind blew through her long hair. Niccolò placed his hand gently on her neck, pulled her closer and kissed her passionately.
Seeing them together for the first time unleashed my fury. It was an emotion that had taken a long time to come, but now here it was: I was crazed with anger. Suddenly I realized how much of my precious time I wasted, crying over this asshole. In only two weeks he had made an idyllic life for himself! This man had replaced me with another woman without suffering one bit! He had used me to feel more manly. I hated him. I detested him. Shaking with fury and unsteady on my feet, I thought I might throw up.
I decided to turn back and return to the table. I didn’t want to waste any more time on that shallow idiot. I tried to walk back across the bridge as fast as I could, but one of my heels broke and I fell to the ground with a crash The tumble was so violent and the thud so loud that people turned to look at me. A clumsy version of myself. Well, for sure I was noticed that evening, even though not exactly for my brilliant looks!
I prayed to
god that Niccolò hadn’t seen me and that embarrassing scene, but when I turned to look in his direction, I saw that he had stepped away from Anna and was walking towards me.
I just wanted to run as far away from him as possible. Limping on my broken jewelled sandals I ran across the bridge, down the stairs, and fled through the crowd hoping to hide. Poor Claudio followed me, yelling: “Slow down Rebecca! I’m risking a heart attack!”
The day of my comeback had ended in disaster. In addition, I had destroyed my favourite sandals. It was all fault of that bastard of Niccolò!
Not sure I loved Milan any more.
3
Lace, Confetti & Wedding Favors
That night I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of Niccolò and my embarrassing performance. I kept seeing him gently touching Anna’s neck. I thought how lonely I was. The sense of failure was overwhelming. I didn’t even exact a decent revenge!
I stared at my alarm clock, counting the hours I’d been awake. I was pondering how strange love is – it seems so difficult but it’s simpler than we think. Actually, it’s not rocket science. Love comes when we least expect it – like coming upon a wildflower in a field. Suddenly we are elated. Love is an intimate emotion and it grows at a different pace and intensity for everyone. When it’s reciprocated, it’s a miracle. It fills us, our bodies, our minds. Love gives deeper meaning to our days, to our lives. But when it’s not returned, or is denied, love becomes a painful, crushing burden.
I didn’t sleep at all. The next morning, I got out of bed with puffy eyes and a headache. I made coffee very slowly, looking out of the window. An important day was ahead and I had to forget about my anxiety and love obsession.
I showered and then went to my closet to choose what to wear. Every time I start a new job, I feel nervous, anxious, but also excited – like the first day of school.
My closet offered a wide range of choices: sheath dresses, suits, trousers of all styles, jackets, striped t-shirts, hats, cashmere sweaters, skirts, and shirts that I hated to press and always sent to the dry cleaner.
I didn’t buy anything new for that day, but so what? As Coco Chanel once said: Elegance does not mean putting on a new dress. I was convinced I could still look great without wearing something new.
I selected a light grey sheath dress with round neckline and paired it with cap toe black and white shoes, in perfect Chanel style. Last touch: six strings of pearls around my neck.
I put just a little make-up on – only to cover the circles under my eyes – and finally a few drops of Chanel No 5, my precious talisman.
I looked at myself in the mirror and felt satisfied: professional, good-looking and elegant.
I put on my funky sunglasses, grabbed my Marni handbag – one of my favourites, but it was always so heavy, filled with so much stuff! I left my apartment, anxious and with a slight a stomach ache.
That morning in the subway I couldn’t help but notice many young couples apparently in love, squeezed among sleepy commuters. Their caresses, whispers and holding hands got on my nerves. So corny! There should be a law to forbid couples to kiss and cuddle in public places. Who ever said that all humanity has to witness and enjoy other people’s love making?
When I arrived at my office building – way too early – I stopped at the café below to have a cappuccino. I sat near the window to watch what kind of people entered. Then I picked up my courage and entered. My new colleagues all seemed young and hip. They wore casual but trendy clothes, most of them had smart phone ear buds, and they smiled a lot at one other saying good morning.
I had an appointment with the agency’s director and wasn’t sure where to go. While trying to figure out the office floor plan, I saw the guy who had saved me from that embarrassing fall just a few days before. He wore a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up and looked so sexy. He carried a huge box that he probably had to deliver to someone working in the building. He must have been an errand boy. The most handsome errand boy I had ever seen.
He approached me with his perfect smile and sparkling eyes: “Nice to see you again… happy to see you are now able to stand!”
I felt like an idiot. I wished a trap door would open below me and make me disappear forever.
“Hmm… I’m doing my best to keep my balance,” I said, trying to be funny.
He kept staring at me and I went back to look at the office map on the wall to escape his blue eyes, while I felt my cheeks blushing.
“Are you lost?” He asked kindly, coming closer to me. He smelled good.
“Yes… It’s my first day here and I don’t know where all the offices are yet. I have an appointment with Mr Parisi. Do you know where his office is?”
“Sure! Second floor, second door on your left. I’m going in the same direction,” he said, pointing towards the elevator. His accent was very elegant. French, I thought.
The elevator stopped at our floor and he gallantly invited me to enter first. I tried to make some kind of small talk to overcome the embarrassment. “You must have an interesting job…”
He looked at me with perplexity.
“Well, I mean, delivering packages all around Milan… I’m sure you must meet a lot of people,” I realized how ridiculous I sounded.
In fact, he laughed: “Oh, oui. It’s really a beautiful job. One gets to meet many interesting people.”
“Are the packages you carry really heavy?” (Congratulations Coco! Very intelligent question.)
“I deliver any kind of packages: large, small, huge, heavy and light,” he smiled and kept staring at me with his magnetic look.
Finally, we arrived at the second floor and he led me to the director’s office.
“You are really pretty when you walk without stumbling,” he caught me by surprise and I blushed up to my ears.
“Thank you… Believe me, I usually don’t fall into the arms of strangers.” I said staring down at my feet to avoid his gaze.
He knocked lightly on Mr Parisi’s door, but didn’t wait for an answer to enter. “C’est moi!”
I was right – he was French!
“Come in,” a young voice said. They seem to know each other very well.
I expected the typical, predictable boss: a distinguished man in his fifties, with a navy suit, a boring tie, and elegant shoes. On the contrary, on the other side of the desk I saw a smiling young man about my age, wearing jeans and a Clash t-shirt.
“I brought the documents you were looking for,” the errand boy said confidently, “and then I found a new hire on the elevator.”
Both of them smiled warmly at me.
“You must be our new resource from Venice,” he said, inviting me to sit.
“My name is Rebecca Bruni.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rebecca. If you don’t mind, we can be informal…”
“Sure,” I always felt a little uncomfortable using a formal tone with people my age.
“Thank you, Etienne,” he addressed the man who had just placed the box on his desk.
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone now,” he said heading to the door. “Hope to meet you again, Rebecca – maybe in the elevator.” His look was full of irony.
I smiled shyly at him. As soon as he left, Paolo looked at me for a moment and said: “So you have worked at One for about five years, organizing scientific-medical conventions.”
“Correct.”
“All positions are filled in our conventions division, but, as we discussed with the Venice agency, there are other positions open.”
“Yes, I’ve been informed of this. I would like to try working at different kinds of events.”
“Good! I like people who love change. Your new position will be in a division that we only recently opened, and we’re very excited about it and proud of it. Your work will be organizing wedding receptions.”
Weddings! It must have been a big misunderstanding. I didn’t know anything about weddings! I knew only that they were very expensive and boring parties, organized in
historical villas with little gravel paths that ruined my heels, where I always met relatives that I hated meeting, who always asked me: “And you, Rebecca? When will you marry?” I had never liked weddings and now – single with a broken heart – I liked them even less. I didn’t think I was the right person to help some corny couples in love realize their dream.
“Weddings?” I asked with a puzzled tone. “I thought, hoped, you would have assigned me to organize fashion events, boutique openings, art gallery exhibitions…”
“At the moment all other positions are filled. We really need new creative people for our new exciting adventure: the weddings division.”
The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t the right work for me. I could do any kind of thing, even organize dogs’ beauty contests, but not weddings. No way. I detested brides, sugary music, wedding cakes full of calories and lace and chiffon dresses. But most of all, I didn’t want to work in the name of love. I hated love.
“Listen, Paolo… May I call you Paolo?”
“Sure, Rebecca,”
“I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m the right person for organizing weddings events. I never married and my parents divorced when I was a kid. I don’t think I have any feeling for wedding parties. In addition, I am single.”
“Don’t worry Rebecca, at the beginning you’ll be led through the process by a colleague who will explain everything you need to know: music, cakes, wedding rings, white doves and flowers. She will train you until you are ready to be on your own. We’ll make you the best wedding planner on the scene.”
He smiled and stood up to signal that our conversation was finished. So I had to organize wedding receptions. In fact, I would become the best wedding planner in Italy, more, in the entire world! I felt a slight sense of vertigo.
Paolo led me to the door and explained where the office was of the person who would introduce me to the joys of weddings. He shook my hand: “Welcome Rebecca. Every day will be an event.” He quoted the ad that made the agency famous.
Coco Chanel Saved My Life Page 4
