I woke up with the urge of putting on my dropped crotch pants, wear my thrift store T-shirt and walk in my commercially responsible shoes.
And where to find the perfect habitat for that kind of mood if not Wynwood and the Design District here in Miami?
So I blow dried my hair to achieve the "put together but I don't really care" hair do, grabbed my hubby and headed to the hood of art and style.
I was surprised when I found out that the land of milk and honey was only a block away from the land on french-fries and Pepsi. Here is dress for less Ross, and a hop and a skip away ( that's how homos hike ) you can find Hugo Boss in the flesh. From zero to hero just by crossing the street. From Honey Bo-boo to Donatella Versace with out stopping by the plastic surgeon.
I can't just admire a remarkable graffiti or a state of the art high end retail space. No.
I have to show my love like a dog would. I will make you aware that I am deeply into the surroundings by peeing everywhere or dry humping your leg. Figuratively.
I will take pictures and also ask my husband to take the exact same frames but with me in them too.
Unfortunately my hubby always manages to make me look like a crack-whore in the pics he takes.
I make him look like he just got back from two week at the Canyon Ranch spa, I even manage to makes the color of his eyes pop. In exchange he makes me look like I have three chins and a lazy eye.
Lately he has shown improvements but Annie Liebovitz is another thing.
|I gave him rigorous instructions on how to take this picture. Still under the glasses there is a lazy eye.|
We decided to experience a bit of everything the area has to offer, so when I started feeling peckish we sat down at Harry's little hole in the wall to have a carafe of wine. I am on a liquid diet.
For the first time since we got to Miami we were waited on by an English speaking guy. And not Julio Iglesias's English. He even called us "gents". It was quite refreshing not having to break through another language barrier ( trust me, I have been there many times as a native Italian ).
Mark, our travel size waiter, also embodied the spirit of the district by sporting dreadlocks fashioned in a "put together but I don't really care" bun, and a 50's glasses frame that made him a cross over between Bob Marley and a character from "Mad Man". He told me he has been growing his dreads for 9 years. But we didn't get anymore personal than that. As I said I only shared ONE carafe of wine.
This hood is a magical place I tell you. They even have educational hopscotch painted on the side walk. Some of the writing on them was a bit bipolar-ish but hipsters are not scared of such things.
|The self awareness hopscotch.|
To make it all even more magical we even spotted a Hermes tapestry unicorn. Very rare this time of the year. But we couldn't feed it. He only eats very expensive silk scarfs. And he is French. Quite the snob.
|Hermes tapestry horse.|
The pawn shop was as glamorous as any other high end retailer. Makes pawning your granny's gold less mischievous.
|The Pawn Boutique.|
It means they cram all the cool designer stuff under one roof. But you still can't afford it.
Here it is for you to gorge your eyes on. But you will leave feeling as hungry as you arrived. Famished.
But they give you a complimentary tiny bottle of water the moment you enter. Very thoughtful since I am still on a liquid diet. And you can grab free design magazines so that when you get home you can still reminisce about what is too expensive for your pockets. Adding insult to injury.
At this point I was feeling a bit distressed but luckily Tom Ford came to the rescue. He is coming to Miami to make the rest of the homosexual feel more inadequate than ever. I couldn't resist. Before heading back home I had to dry hump his advertisement board and mark my territory.
Nobody puts Tommy in a corner.
|Tom & I.|
On our way to the car we found this on this on the ground
This hood is truly a magical place.
Ciao for now.