The Pitti Uomo is a twice-a-year tradeshow that makes many of the world’s best labels and most stylish men descend upon Florence, Italy.
Check out this slide show of some of the cool looks seen in Florence last week:
http://nymag.com/thecut/2016/01/pitti-uomo-street-style.html
And especially this:
http://hypebeast.com/2016/1/monocle-pitti-uomo-89
And, well, also this:
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/15/fashion/mens-style/florence-pitti-uomo-mens-fashion-fall-2016.html
Let me ask you something: do you know what happens when you mix rose petals and water?
Well, like anything, of course it depends on the circumstances.
All kinds of magic can occur.
One of the possible magical items that can be produced from the mixture is an elixir known as rose water.
I have always been a fan of Aqua distillate alle Rose created by Manetti/Roberts in Florence since, as the label tells us, 1867. I buy bottles of the stuff whenever I see it. I love the cobalt blue bottles. They make nice lotions as well. I used my bottle of rose water to flavor a cake recently.
But, the Florentines were not the first to make rose water. Oh no, far from it.
As Wikipedia explains:
Incidentally, Wikipedia is celebrating its 15th birthday. Three cheers to this organization. I consult Wikipedia almost daily. I can’t imagine life without it or the internet. So happy to be alive in the 21st century!
So, to celebrate Wiki’s bday, let me continue to quote its erudition on today’s subject of water enhanced by roses:
And, furthermore, Wiki tells us:
To end Wikipedia’s article on rose water, I quote:
For the intrepid blog reader, here’s a wonderful article (courtesy of the references section in the Wikipedia post) on the production of rose water in Oman:
Another avenue into Florentine life in the mid 14th century (or any time period of course) is through the visual arts of the period. This is the reason I got mixed up with the history of art to begin with. I’ve never regretted it.
The scene above is a detail from the fresco cycle by Andrea di Bonaiuto and his pupils in the Spanish Chapel at Santa Maria Novella. We can well imagine that this is how everyday Florentines dressed and behaved as they watch some spectacle taking place on the street below their home. I especially like the woman tending her pot of flowers; she’s my kind of girl.
A huge topic, no question.
But I like to think about it. Here’s a woodcut of Florence, followed by a description of what the evolving city would have been like around 1300. It starts to fire the imagination of Florence taking shape as the jewel it would soon become :
“Under the government of the Guelphs, Florence grew and prospered. All its main streets…had been paved…[under the leadership] of a Milanese Podesta, Rubaconte da Mandello….the city’s population…seems to have increased to about 45,000, considerably more than London’s and some eight times that of Oxford, even though the university there was by that time well established.
The city’s banking houses were making immense profits through their dealings with foreign powers, in particular with the Kings of France and Sicily and with the Pope;
The trade of the city was increasing in volume year by year. Merchants dealt in spices and dyes, hides and silks, sendal [a type of silk] and taffeta, gold brocades and braid, and above all in wool.
Vast quantities of woolen cloth and bales of raw wool were imported from northern Europe, mainly from France, the Low Countries, the Algarve, Spain, and by the end of the 13th century, from England.
The wool was refined and dyed in the numerous workshops of Florence, the finished bolts of cloth being sold through so many agents beyond Tuscany’s borders, in French fairs and English markets, Flemish towns and Mediterranean ports. Pope Boniface VIII was to say that the Florentines had become a kind of 5th element: wherever earth, air, fire, water were to be found there were sure to be Florentines as well.
In all weathers flat-bottomed barges piled high with cloth could be seen drifting down towards Pisa on the Arno, whose waters–polluted with dyestuffs, tannin and rubbish, when not dried up–drove the workshop’s mills and filled the tanks in which the wool was washed and dyed.
The dyes used were faster, and of purer, brighter color, than any to be found elsewhere in Europe. Some were of local origin: yellow dyes came from the crocus fields near San Gimignano; but the ingredients for others had to be transported from far away, insects for cochineal from the shores of the Mediterranean, lichen for the red dye known as oracle from Majorca, cinnabar for vermilion from the Holy Land. The bitter juice of aloes which made th eyes fast came from Alexandria and the Levant.
Throughout the year thousands of ill-paid men [and women] were hard at work in the city’s shops, in wash-houses and stretching-sheds, as well as in their own cramped houses, undertaking the numerous processes through which the imported wool had to pass, the fulling, spinning and carding, the combing, weaving, stretching and trimming, as well as the washing and dyeing and drying.
Nor was it only textiles that left Florence by river or on the backs of pack-horses which made their slow way to the coast or ambled north across the Apennines to Venice for shipment to the ports of the eastern Mediterranean; grain was exported, too, oil and livestock, timber and the fine wines of Tuscany.
In this commerce the banks of Florence played an essential part, not only in supplying capital and in the investment of money for their clients, but in all manner of other activities, including the ensuring of ships and cargoes. As inventors of double-entry bookkeeping and the forerunner of the cheque, and as creators of the gold floor, and lire, sold and denier, later the lsd of British capitalism, the Florentines were already regarded as the world’s leading experts in international commerce; and their banks had the reputation of being safer and more solid business houses than any others.”
The arts were flourishing in this bustling capital as well. By about 1300, “the last of the magnificent mosaics, some by Florentines, some by a master mosaicist from Venice, had been finished. Andrea Pisano, a sculptor from Pontedera, who was succeed Giotto as capomaestro of the Campanile, was commissioned by the rich Arte di Calimala to provide wax models from which the bronze doors for the south side of the Baptistery might be cast.
Here are the works: the mosaic masterpiece in the dome of the baptistery, the South Doors of the same structure by Pisano, and the Campanile by Giotto.
Christopher Hibbert, Florence, the Biography of a City, (New York and London, 1993) pp. 23-4 and 49. Illustrations are from all over the internet.
It doesn’t happen often that Florence gets a lot of snow, but when it does, it is magical. I love a softly falling snow anywhere. It transforms the world temporairily.
A well-known story about the young Michelangelo is that the famous artist once made a snow man in the Palazzo Medici courtyard. I wish I could show you an image of that ephemerality. Non possible, of course.
But, see here for a sense of what it might have been like on that day:
http://www.florence-journal.com/florence-video/snow-in-florence.html
Here, just for fun, is a very fun Youtube video about the chef of the fabulous Cibreo restaurants in the Santa Croce quarter. Prepare yourself for lively music and melodic Italian language if you click start.
Hey there! You!
The handsome, confident guy in the blue cap!
Ciao bello!
Yes! You! I’m talking to you! The guy with the exotic leopard, riding on a horse. Which is not exactly something you see everyday of the week.
Remember me? I’m your biggest fan.
Where are you going? May I go with you?
Oh! how I love this fresco cycle of which the guy in blue is a part: the Magi Chapel inside the Palazzo Medici in Florence! I think these paintings are my very favorite of all time and that’s a big statement from one who loves art as much as I do. I have very many favorites.
I mean, really, what’s not to love?!
Sumptuous colors, incredible textures, fancy people and exotic animals, who cannot love these paintings? The chapel is a dazzling tour de force, alive with color and movement.
But, before I get completely carried away with the sheer joy of these gorgeous images, let me discuss the celebrated moment depicted in the Magi Chapel.
The scenes take their subject matter from an event that happens every year on January 6. This is the date of the Christian festival celebrating the Epiphany, or the day when the wise men beheld the infant Jesus for the first time.
Also called Three Kings’ Day, this Christian feast day celebrates both the literal visit of the Christ child by the Magi but also the symbolic recognition of the physical manifestation of God the Son as human in Jesus Christ. Put another way, Epiphany proclaims the revelation of Jesus to the Gentiles. It’s a very big deal for Christianity, no doubt about it. Like, the cornerstone.
The visit of the Magi, bringing their precious gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to the Holy Family near Bethlehem after the birth of Jesus was a favorite subject for painters of the Renaissance period in Italy. One reason it was so popular, in my opinion, is that like the moment of the Annunciation in the Christian chronicle, the Adoration of the Magi captures one of the most hopeful moments of the story. There is so much pain and suffering in the Christian narrative, heaven knows it is nice to dwell on the occasions for gladness.
Depicting this scene gives any painter the perfect opportunity to use rich colors and scenery, and exotic luxury in general. Since the 12th century, if not before, Florence has been known for its love for and production of luxury goods whether in wool, silk and dyes; hides and leather working; gold; spices; or painted images. It seems a natural for Gozzoli to depict this happy, rich moment of the Christian story for the private chapel of the pre-eminent Florentine family. And, as it turns out, the Medici family had a particular affinity for the Epiphany feast, as discussed below.
The lively frescoes are complimented in the chapel by the precious marble mosaic work flooring, which is divided by elaborate geometric design in extraordinary materials (porphyries, granites, etc.). The chapel is further enhanced with an astonishing ceiling of inlaid wood, painted and generously gilded, attributed to Pagno di Lapo Portigiano. Finally, the elaborate wooden stalls that furnish the chapel were designed by Giuliano da Sangallo. It is clear that no expense was spared in creating this suite of designs.
To begin our tour of this jewel box chapel fresco cycle, let’s have a look at a couple overall photos. The chapel is not huge but it is pretty hard to photograph as a unity. Nevertheless, let’s take a stab at it.
While not perfect, at least the 2 photos above give you a sense of the magnificent room. It is one of the glories of the Renaissance period and one of the surviving in situ masterpieces of Florence.
The Magi Chapel was begun around 1449-50 and probably finished in 1459 as the private family chapel inside the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi in Florence, designed by famed Renaissance architect Michelozzo di Bartolomeo. The exterior of the palazzo looks like this.
Although there were public churches near the palace, and ones for which the Medici family were patrons, it was customary for wealthy families to have private chapels inside their homes. In fact it is not unusual for any religious household to have a space to celebrate their gods inside their home, no matter how humble.
Three of the chapel’s walls are almost completely covered by this famous fresco cycle by Renaissance master Benozzo Gozzoli (1421-97). Gozzoli painted the cycle between 1459 and 1463. The Journey of the Magi to Bethlehem is depicted in three large large sections, each one showing the procession of one of the three Magi.
Let’s begin with the apse wall: An apse contains the centerpiece of any chapel, as it does here as well. The framed altarpiece in the apse is by Fra Filippo Lippi: The Adoration of the Christ Child. Painted specifically for this location, the original is now in Berlin, while a copy by a follower of Lippi hangs in the Magi Chapel. The copy is attributed to Pseudo Pier Francesco Fiorentino, a follower of Lippi, and the painting was restored in 1992.
The image below is the original Lippi painting.
Here’s how the apse looks from front on. It is designed to be the place where one kneels to pray and worship.
The sides walls of the apse as above are painted with saints and angels in adoration. It is possible to see the influence of his master, Fra Angelico, in Gozzoli’s painting style. These personages are arranged so as to be looking at the Lippi altarpiece, the same as we the viewers do.
This host of angels are gorgeously painted in rich colors with a luxurious application of plenty of gold.
The Medici family were, of course, the de facto rulers of the ostensibly republican Florence, and among the greatest art patrons of any era. Books have been written on their influence on the Renaissance, particularly as patrons of all of the arts.
The family had a particular interest in paintings that depicted the Adoration of the Magi, the moment when the Three Kings, led by a miraculous star, discovered the Christ child. As we have said, this event signified the recognition of the holy infant by the secular world and was celebrated in the feast of the Epiphany (from the Greek, meaning “to manifest”).
We know that the city of Florence had mounted an Epiphany festival on January 6 at least since 1390, the date of the earliest surviving record of it. The elaborate pageant, in which men reenacted the journey of the Magi through the streets of the city, must have looked much like the colorful throng that winds through Gozzoli’s fresco cycle.
By 1417, the festival was directed by a lay confraternity, the Compagnia de’ Magi, with funds donated by the Medici. Male members of the Medici family participated in the procession, which passed in front of their famous palace on Via Largo and began and ended at the church of San Marco, headquarters of the confraternity and an important recipient of Medici munificence. Cosimo de Medici even had an image of the Adoration of the Magi in his private room within the monastery of San Marco.
Incidentally, the Procession of the Magi is enacted in Florence today as well. You can read about it here: http://www.theflorentine.net/articles/article-view.asp?issuetocId=9709
So important was the Epiphany to the Medici family, Lorenzo de Medici even changed his birthdate! He was born on January 1, which already seems pretty auspicious, but he decided to change his birthday to January 6 to coincide with the Epiphany feast date. Here’s a portrait of Lorenzo as an adult. I guess when you are a Medici, an earthly prince, you can change your birthdate as desired. Lorenzo did.
It is worth remembering that January 1 didn’t have the significance in the period that it does today. The Florentine calendar treated March 25 as the first day of a new year. March 25 was the feast day of the Annunciation. So, I guess being born on Jan. 1 wasn’t that big of a whoop to begin with. Why not switch to Jan. 6 if you were Lorenzo? Then maybe everybody would remember your birthday? Am I projecting too much?
There’s no doubt about it: the Medici’s identified with the story of the Adoration of the Magi on the feast of the Epiphany.
Let’s begin our tour of the Gozzoli procession.
Caspar, the youngest Magus, leads the entourage on his beautiful white horse. Caspar is surrounded by a group of young Florentine attendants.
We see Caspar on the left wall here.
Although this figure has sometimes been identified as a portrait of Lorenzo il Magnifico, who was born in 1449 and so was still a boy when the fresco was completed, most scholars believe Lorenzo is more likely included as another figure, as discussed below.
Behind Caspar, to his left, are the contemporary head of the family, Piero the Gouty, wearing a red cap and seated on a white horse and devout family founder Cosimo in a dark blue shirt riding on a humble brown mule.
Here’s a composite photograph of the entire fresco cycle. It is difficult to study the images without being in the chapel itself. We have begun our look at the paintings on the far left and are moving from left to right.
Behind the portraits of Piero and Cosimo, directly to the left of the standing black attendant, are portraits of Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta and Galeazzo Maria Sforza, respectively lords of Rimini and Milan, who were often guests of the Medici in Florence. These men are atop the brown and white horses that face the viewer directly.
Behind in the middle ground is a crowded procession of illustrious Florentines, including such as the humanists Marsilio Ficino and the Pulci brothers, the members of the Art Guilds and even the artist, Benozzo, himself. The painter looks out at the viewer and can be recognized for the scroll on his red hat, which reads “Opus Benotii.” It is one of the great artist’s signatures on a work of art in the history of the world.
Picture A above.
The self-portrait of the artist himself is marked #14 on the key below Picture B.
Little Lorenzo il Magnifico is the boy marked #7 ; Lorenzo’s elder brother Giuliano is next to him at #8.
The following picture is Picture B, notated with numbers to identify the various illustrious contemporary personages included in Benozzo’s painting. To see the actual faces, consult Picture A above.
Picture B above.
Key to Picture B:
1 – Cosimo il Vecchio de’ Medici
2 – Piero il Gottoso de’ Medici
3 – Carlo di Cosimo de’ Medici
4 – Galeazzo Maria Sforza
5 – Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta
6 – Cosimino di Giovanni di Cosimo de’ Medici (?)
7 – Lorenzo di Piero de’ Medici detto il Magnifico
8 – Giuliano di Piero de’ Medici
9 – Gentile Becchi, precettore di Lorenzo e Giuliano
10 – Giuliano di Piero de’ Medici
11 – allora fattore nella filiale del banco Medici a Roma
12 – Giovanni di Cosimo de’ Medici(?)
13 – Benozzo Gozzoli
14 – Pope Pio II Piccolomini
Picture C above
Key to Picture C:
15 – Benozzo Gozzoli (?),2nd self-portrait
16 – Neri di Gino Capponi (?) (1388-1457):
17 – Bernardo Giugni (?) (+1466)
18 – Francesco Sassetti (?) (1420-1490)
19 – Agnolo Tani (?)
20 – Dietisalvi Neroni (?) (1401-1482)
21 – Roberto di Niccolò Martelli (?) (1408-post 1469)
22 – Benozzo Gozzoli (?), 3rd self portrait
23 – Luca Pitti (?) (1398-1472)
Bearded Balthasar, the middle Magus, rides a white horse on the south wall. He is portrayed with the same facial features as Byzantine emperor John VIII Palaiologos.
Melchior, the oldest Magus, is depicted riding on the west wall.
Traditionally, his features have been read as those of Joseph, Patriarch of Constantinople, who died in Florence; but they could also be those of Sigismund, Holy Roman Emperor, who helped end the Great Schism by convoking the Council of Constance in 1414. Like Cosimo, he is shown as a peacemaker riding on a humble (this time white) mule.
He is preceded by a page in blue with a leopard on his horse – although he leads the entire procession, no real world identity for this handsome, confident figure has ever been established. Ciao bello! You’re the one that I love!
Rather than depict the topography in and around the actual Bethlehem, Gozzoli instead portrayed rich Tuscan landscapes. As the Three Kings approach Bethelem, they are accompanied by their respective entourages as if they are participating in a noble hunting party with falcons and including exotic felines just for a measure of excess.
What a divine way to celebrate the Epiphany! I think I might change my birthday to January 6 myself. I want to be like Lorenzo.
Nah, I can’t do that, even if Lorenzo and I do share the same root word as the stem of our first (Christian) names.*
I can never be a Medici, as much as I might wish it. Maybe in my next life.
**LAURA f Feminine form of the Late Latin name Laurus, which meant “laurel”. This meaning was favourable, since in ancient Rome the leaves of laurel trees were used to create victors’ garlands. It was also the name of the subject of poems by the 14th-century Italian poet Petrarch. As an English name, Laura has been used since the 13th century. LAURETTA f
Italian diminutive of LAURA http://www.behindthename.com/names/usage/italian/2
LORENZO m Italian, Spanish
Italian and Spanish form of Laurentius (see LAURENCE (1)). Lorenzo de’ Medici, known as the Magnificent, was a ruler of Florence during the Renaissance. He was also a great patron of the arts who employed Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Botticelli and other famous artists. http://www.behindthename.com/names/usage/italian/2
Everything in Florence has an interesting history. Every single thing.
The many bridges spanning the Arno river are no exception.
Let’s zero in on the first bridge in the photo above. This major bridge just happens to be out the front door of my Oltrarno apartment building on Lungarno Serristori. Everyday I cross this bridge, often several times, as it takes me quickly from my home to the historic center of Florence. I can’t imagine my daily life without this bridge. I’d be doing even more trekking than I already do; I average at least three miles daily. It’s a good way to live.
The bridge I walk on so many times a week is a modern structure, completed in the mid 1950s. The Germans blew up the original, medieval bridge in August 1944, just before they departed Florence as the Allied Forces were coming up from the south. Like so much destruction caused by wartime activity, it was a complete waste to blow up this bridge. The Arno was already so low that particular August that the Allies could walk across the river bed and up the banks on the city side.
Yet the Germans blew up every single bridge crossing the Arno, with the exception of the Ponte Vecchio; they bombed the two ends of even that famous bridge, leaving only the center section intact. Legend has it that Hitler himself gave the command to leave the Ponte Vecchio standing, as it is said he had a great affection for Florence. Who knows? I wonder if the Nazis meant to destroy the Ponte Vecchio too, but something went wrong and only the two ends detonated. Anyhow, the Nazis left all the Florentine bridges in shambles as their calling card. Unfazed, the Florentines rebuilt each and every bridge over the next few decades.
Today this bridge is known as il Ponte alle Grazie, because there was once a relief sculpture of the Madonna alle Grazie attached to city end of the bridge. It’s a pretty, evocative name. The Bridge of Grace.
The first record of this bridge is from 1227, making it even older than the Ponte Vecchio. The original bridge, constructed entirely in stone, was called Ponte di Rubaconte, named for the podestà (mayor) Rubaconte da Mandello. He had commissioned the building of the bridge. Here’s an old, old drawing of the Arno, showing the bridge in the distance.
The bridge was rebuilt in 1345 with nine arches, making it the longest in Florence. Giorgio Vasari attributed the design to an architect by the name of Lapo Tedesco, who was also the architect of the Bargello. Just one year later, in 1346, two of the bridge’s arches were filled in on the Oltrarno side, to make way for widening the street of Piazza dei Mozzi, which leads to the Palazzo Mozzi, as seen in this modern day shot of the Piazza below.
The image below is a 17th century print of the Ponte di Rubaconte, showing the seven arches and the odd little structures erected at each of the pylons.
Initially these structures were chapels dedicated to Saint Catherine of Alexandria, Saint Barbara, and Saint Lawrence. Apparently the structures were also erected as huts or hermitages for female hermits known as Romite. These women, wishing to avoid the scandals of some of the nunneries in the city, are known to have cloistered themselves in the buildings on the bridge, receiving their food from passersby through small slots. Because the Arno often flooded, the nuns eventually left their unusual homes on il Ponte alle Grazie, moving instead to the convent known as Santissima Annunziata alle Murate and Santa Caterina built in 1424 on Via Ghibellina in the Santa Croce district of Florence. Because these nuns had voluntarily chosen a cloistered religious life, they were said to be murate or “walled up”, thereby giving the convent the name of Le Murate. When Tuscany was annexed by the French in 1807, Florence became the prefecture of the French Department of the Arno. The French quickly suppressed religious orders and confiscated their property. The nuns at Le Murate were unceremoniously sent packing. In 1845 the buildings of Le Murate were redesigned and fitted out as a jail for male prisoners. During Italy’s fight for independence in the mid 19th century, Le Murate became the temporary home of such political prisoners as writers and patriots Francesco Domenico Guerrazzi (1804-1873) and Carlo Bini (1806-1842). During World War II, political prisoners, dissidents and partisans captured by the fascists were again imprisoned at Le Murate. The buildings were used as prisons until 1985. Within the past decade, Le Murate has been converted into condominiums and a center for art performances, based upon designs by the famous Italian architect, Renzo Piano.
Coincidentally, I lived on Via Ghibellina last winter, just across the street from Le Murate and a restaurant there is one of my Florentine favorites. I knew the premises had been a prison, but I had no idea at the time I was living on Via Ghibellina that Le Murate had these connections to Ponte alle Grazie, let alone that I would soon be living near that storied bridge. Interesting connections happen all of the time, it would seem.
That was a very long aside! Let’s get back to the bridge itself! To transition, here’s a beautiful painting of it by famed 19th century American painter, and one of my personal favorites, William Merritt Chase.
Until the late 1870s, the Ponte alle Grazie retained its seven arches and original medieval structure, as well as the structures on the pylons, as seen in this photograph.
The buildings were removed from the bridge in the late 19th century when space was needed to lay tram tracks across the bridge.
Thus it remained until 1944 when the Germans blew it to smithereens.
From 1950 to 1957 the bridge was rebuilt. In typical Florentine artistic tradition, a competition was held for designs for the reconstruction of the bridge. A group of architects that included Giovanni Michelucci, who later became famous for the project of Santa Maria Novella train station, was awarded the commission to rebuild the bridge.
Here’s how the finished bridge looks today as it traverses the Arno.
But, of course, more was yet to happen. In November of 1966, the Arno surged over its banks and flooded the city.
But today, the area of the Ponte alle Grazie is my home sweet home. Whew, that was a short walk through a long history!
l’ll conclude this post with a few more photos of this famed bridge.
I just noticed that the heels on my boots are almost worn away to almost nothing. But, I can’t take them to a shoe repair shop (does anybody say cobbler anymore, or is that just so Pinocchio?), because I only have one pair with me and even though they are wet and worn down, I still have to wear them!
But, don’t fret, because all my issues are First World problems. The rest of the world should be so lucky.
I can’t go out and buy another pair of boots here because, for starters, I have longer feet than any Italians you might meet! I recently moved from Florence to another unbelievably beautiful spot known to the world as Lucca. And, because it is my hope to return to Florence forthwith after a trip home to see my boy and other miscellaneous things, I left a lot of my stuff in Florence with a friend. Including other boots and shoes. Because I wanted to travel light, you know. So, in my disciplined packing, I forgot to factor in that it is winter in Italy, which apparently means a lot of rain (who knew? Google? probably. Didn’t think to check that before I left things in Florence. Dumb, dumb, dumb). So, predictably, I expect, it is raining gatti e cani here. I have a new understanding of the word “cold”.
So, you see how I outsmarted my own damn self, don’t you? Packing light. Torrential rains. Winter. Extra long feet. You get the picture?
I don’t have a photo of my well-worn boots, but they are riding boots, sort of like this one above, and may I just say that the they are truly gorgeous. There is a lot of irony tied up in my boots that you wouldn’t think about at first glance.
Because, to begin with, these boots were made in Italy, but since Italian women don’t generally have long narrow feet like mine, this size of Italian boot is not generally sold in Italy. I bought mine in Seattle at Nordstrom.
And, on top of the irony, there’s a whole lot of history tied up in that last paragraph. When you think about the rich heritage of the trading and bartering of goods that has been a part of human history reaching as far back as we know it, the mind starts to bend.
The history of commerce is the one thread of the human story that every sentient being lives with all the time because, of all the things that humankind has invented, nothing has ever trumped currency. And the one currency that all people desire is money.
Think about it.
Because, as a very wise man once said over a gorgeous dinner in Morocco one night, “we all know she is right.”
To quote Paul Simon.
Or, perhaps the flying angel is taking a selfie?
Either way, I couldn’t resist.
xx, L
get back, lauretta! 
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