As I write this in Gatwick Airport, the screen is informing me that my flight is two hours delayed. That means two hours less at Villa La Massa, the uber-chic resort steps away from Firenze Centrale, my final destination. Sitting here in the lounge sipping a class of Prosecco, I wait patiently to be told when my flight will actually leave. My friend and I are arguing whether Mint M&Ms go better with our bubbly than Peanut. Peanut wins. At least there is one thing I am sure of, I am packed and ready for a long weekend in the Cittá Bella dei Medici (FYI: the stress is on the Me not the Dici).
As the temperature is now almost 100F there, I have packed only white: my Supergas are visiting their homeland, a cool Sweden dress from Cos to channel the Scandinavian summers, a white swimsuit to show off my Mykonos color, and the Beatles’ White Album to rediscover by the pool. A little Caudalie elixir to transform the beads of sweat rolling down my face into glistening drops of dew. A bite of pasta, a Fiorentina, followed by scoop of gelato – I can almost taste it – if my flight would ever leave.
(Shameless plug: Go buy the new August 3 issue of Grazia on the newsstands this week! My article on New Orleans is on page 102!.)