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Two Years Earlier
They simply saved going around and round on an endless loop, the same crimson knapsack, green duffel bag, and bungee-corded brown field circling the room like refugees stuck on a Ferris wheel. My husband Karl’s suitcase appeared instantly, loaded with Etro striped shirts,
Ferragamo loafers and his prized Dries Van Noten sports coat. But after two hours of ready, frantically leaping from one baggage carousel to another as a smattering of arriving flights touched down, it grew to become painfully clear that I would be spending the next ten days in
Italy caught with the clothes I had on my back: a BO-infused inexperienced T-shirt with a pink heart silk- screened across the front, a pair of denims that had been decorated with varied in-flight meal mishaps and highlighter-yellow slipper-sneakers. Not even my carry-on bag might save me — all it contained, moreover my wallet and passport, was a handful of Dramamine, a horseshoe- formed neck pillow and a dogeared copy of Thomas Mann’s appropriately titled “Demise in Venice. “
It wasn’t like this the final time Karl and that i were in Italy. Two years earlier, I had an entourage of luggage after we made our way from Rome to the Amalfi coast to attend the wedding of Karl’s good buddies, Eric and Shana. Back then, my multiple luggage have been jammed with every part from the filmy peignoir set I had planned to drag out on our first evening in Rome to the full-size choose’s gown I had volunteered to transport to Positano, a favor to the Officiant (who later admitted he wanted the additional space in his personal suitcase for a postwedding procuring spree in Milan). As a substitute of asking myself, ‘Do I really want all those footwear ‘ I told myself as I demolished my condo in a state of packing frenzy, ‘You’ll be prepared for anything’ — from a freak snowstorm to the sweltering heat ferragamo collection 2013 that this new love held for me.
In fact, all this overzealous preparedness was most likely a manner of managing my anxiety, a belief that so long as I packed that pair of silk cargo pants, those fourteen tubes of lipstick, and, I am embarrassed to admit now, a spare roll of bathroom paper, I would one way or the other handle
to avoid one other type of journey emergency, one where my new boyfriend determined he didn’t actually care for my firm after spending five consecutive days along with his plus-one marriage ceremony date. Karl and i had been seeing each other for just a few months, and up till our Italian
getaway, we had spent only a handful of weekends together, lolling around in bed or on one in every of our respective couches watching reruns of “Household Guy.” This journey required putting on precise clothing and remaining upright for an prolonged period of time, negotiating territory beyond our regular haunts in D. C.and sharing a bathroom with a handheld showerhead and a door that didn’t lock or do a lot to block out sure, er, noises.