We have been longing for this moment so much, particularly at the beginning of the lockdown, when measures and controls were more restrictive. I remember my own gaze when going for the daily shopping, looking at those empty buses passing by with eyes reminiscent of my teen-age years, when Anywhere that was desirable compared with Sameplacehere… And yet, here we are, in our first days after eight weeks of confinement – and feeling strangely cautious, disoriented, home-attached. The assault to public transport that everybody dreaded the first day didn’t happen. Subways and trains travelled half emptied as prescribed, only few people in the stations, orderly cueing along the quays. And thus it was only this morning, which is day 4 already of Phase 2, that I took the conscious decision of having a stroll in downtown Milan, and in 35 min (less than it would normally take in pre-Covid circumstances) I was in Duomo Square. Cathedral locked, no tourists fighting for the better angle on selfies, only few passersby in my same uncertain mode – and a TV Crew on the Gallery side of the square documenting just that, an empty square. I checked my favourite coffee shop, the Camparino, reknowned for its splendid mosaic walls, hoping to have my first post lockdown Macchiato surrounded by that beauty - but no way, “Chiuso per Ordinanza”, oh well… I took to the Gallery, more than ever magnificent in all its architectural details, marble floors, glass ceilings – and vastly void. Shop windows still displaying the coats and wools and boots that were in fashion for winter, altought it’s May already. And Prada no less than Versace showing off their ludicrously expensive creations, as if eight weeks of lockdown was not long enough for a change of season - if not realization, restraint. The best of all seemed to me Louis Vuitton, whose impressive defilé of windows showed nothing else then emptiness. Amazingly crafted emptiness of course, with the alcoves entirely wall papered with deep red leather, uniquely embossed in LV style – but eloquently, stunningly empty. No bags, purses, suitcases, travel accessories… No Thing. With nobody around except for homeless, policemen, and impoverished locals from now on, what would the point be. The Rizzoli bookshop is now open, a good sign. Feltrinelli, on the opposite side, not yet. And then Piazza Scala: the Opera Theatre, the Italian Galleries, firmly locked. Few vehicles. A sparse humanity silently sitting under the statue like it just landed from a long journey. I suddenly thought of how this part of town must have looked like, in the immediate aftermath of the second World War, when everything was in debris after the heavy bombing from the sky. The repairs took years. The ‘ripresa’ will surely be easier this time. We suffered for an incredibly mobile, volatile, invisible enemy, but no bombing thank god. And yet… On Via Manzoni the only shop convincingly open and set up for business, was one for rich kids. Nicely designed pants, exquisitely refined shirts, embroidered motifs in coordinated combination with fancy hats, flowery skirts, light cardigans. All kids grow fast, and rich kids need to present themselves in varied look, particularly if classes will continue via Zoom, where everything is so clearly visible, pimples, hair style, same garments worn too often, what a bore. And you can imagine a typical dialogue a few weeks from now, when the compulsory protective masque will become (as promised already) THE fashion item for 2020 summertime. “Oh look at this! How cute, with the Hello Kitty design… Or why not that one, a bit more Grown Up… Or take both, little princess, and this one as well, in the same fabric of your bikini…“ Essential accessory indeed, if it is true that even the seaside will require a disciplined attendance, this summertime. A turn for Via Montenapoleone, the most elegant street in Milan. Armani, Ferragamo, Cucinelli, Valentino, Cova Patisserie. The most precious jewellery and accessories brands. The most exclusive courtyards, all here. And empty. The sight of all that opulence was so extravagant that I walked down in haste. But I could not ignore the D&G windows for its excessive display of exoticism, almost obscene in these times of confinement. A scenographic recreation of a tropical ambience, with stuffed wild animals filling every space on the floor, and birds and parrots peeping out the fake foliage, surrounding two D&G dressed maniquins looking Sooo Sad. Sadness all over: glazed eyes, frozen gaze, lunar make up, vintage-like look in predictable D&G style… so much waste of offer, effort, with nobody around to impress! One Coffee Shop was open in Piazza San Babila, and I could have my Macchiato at last. But only “for asporto”, Take Away. People cue outside and when it's their turn they order what they want to a masqued guy beyond a barring entrance table. Then the Macchiato comes, already sugared, wrapped: pure nonsense, any Ape Bar could serve the purpose with less operative costs. But all restaurants remain close, they only work on order. Uber, Deliveroo, Let’s Eat, that business never stopped and actually flourished, since choosing a different restaurant every new meal offered a ‘diversivo’ for well-off households suddenly deprived of domestic help. Some restaurants will not open at all, even when permitted at the end of May: with only 30% of consumers allowed, the revenues will not cover for the costs. And thus a quite artistic protest was staged near Arco della Pace the other day, each restaurateur represented by an empty chair from his own restaurant, all chairs displayed at due distance, a quite neat, not at all invasive installation, that just two months ago could have been perhaps endorsed by the Attività Produttive Authority. Instead the Police arrived, objected that the Ordinanza Anti Assembramento was clearly ignored, imparted an extra € 500 fine to some organizers for Occupation of Public Space – the cruelty of the moment was palpable on every TV report that was broadcast later on. Where will we go from here, from this moment of uncertainty and loss and also gratuitous intimidation and abuse - only god knows. Lives, incomes, jobs, dear ones, well oiled routines, so much has gone. How it will be possible to resume normality and how normality will be defined from now on – if so many things that we considered assured, taken for granted only two months ago (for example rights: of strike, reunion, protest, freely roaming around, unmasqued breathing, children playing, normal education inside school, kissing/hugging each other, gathering inside/outside public spaces) are now in question, constantly scrutinized, too often punished… On my way home, sitting between two empty seats in an almost empty bus, I received a whatsapp from a friend who has lost her favourite aunty ten days ago, in what is now clearly named as ‘strage’, institutionally organized killings, inside a particularly badly managed Home. The picture of four individuals around their 70ies, three women and one man, sitting in their armchairs, looking fine, serene, certainly not near their last breath. And the message. “A picture just received from the nurse, taken a few days before my aunt was declared dead. She is the second from the right side, next to her male friend: would you say that she is suffering? I wouldn’t say so! And yet no visit was allowed, so unfair. Her friend was always begging for little kisses, jokingly, that she was happy to give on both cheeks, loudly. They were like children, laughing at nothing. I’m now worried about him, alone…” I felt like crying.
On Fri, 8 May 2020 at 00:36, Daniela Bezzi <danbezzi1@gmail.com> wrote: Roaming around, at last? By Daniela Bezzi We have been longing for this moment so much, particularly at the beginning of the lockdown, when measures and controls were more restrictive. I remember my own gaze when going for daily shopping, looking at those empty buses passing by with eyes reminiscent of my teen-age years, when Anywhere that was a desirable option instead than Sameplacehere… And yet, here we are, in our first days after eight weeks of confinement – and feeling strangely cautious, disoriented, home-attached. The assault to transports that everybody dreaded the first day didn’t happen. Subways and trains travelled half emptied as prescribed, only few people in the stations, orderly cueing along the quays. And thus it was only this morning, which is day 4th already of Phase 2, that I took the conscious decision of having a stroll in downtown Milan, and in 35 min (less than it wd normally take in pre-Covid circumstances) I was in Duomo Square. Cathedral locked, no tourists fighting for the better angle on selfies, only few passersby in my same uncertain mode – and a TV Crew on the Gallery side of the square documenting just that, an empty square. I checked my favourite coffee shop, the Camparino, reknown for its splendid mosaic walls, hoping to have my first post lockdown Macchiato surrounded by that beauty - but no way, “Chiuso per Ordinanza”, oh well… I took to the Gallery, more than ever magnificent in all its architectural details, marble floors, glass ceilings – and vastly void. Shop windows still displaying the coats and wools and boots that were in fashion for winter, altought it’s May already. And Prada not less than Versace showing off their ludicrously expensive creations, as if eight weeks of lockdown was not a time long enough for a change of season - if not realization, restrain. The best of all seemed to me Luis Vitton, whose impressive defilè of windows showed nothing else then emptiness. Amazingly crafted emptiness of course, with the alcoves entirely wall papered with deep red leather, uniquely embossed in LV style – but eloquently, stunningly empty. No bags, purses, suitcases, travel accessories… No Thing. With nobody around except for homeless, policemen, and impoverished locals from now on, what would be the point . Rizzoli is now open, good sign. Feltrinelli Book Store not yet on the opposite side. And then Piazza Scala: the Opera Theatre, the Italian Galleries, firmly locked. Few vehicles. A sparse humanity silently sitting under the statue like just landed from a long journey. I suddenly thought of how this part of town must have look like, in the immediate aftermath of second World War, when everything was in debris after the heavy bombing from the sky. The repairs took years. The ‘ripresa’ will surely be easier this time. We suffered for an incredibly mobile, volatile, invisible enemy, but no bombing thank god. And yet… On Via Manzoni the only shop convincingly open and set up for business, was one for rich kids. Nicely designed pants, exquisitely refined shirts, embroidered motifs in coordinated combination with fancy hats, flowery skirts, light cardigans. All kids grow fast, and rich kids need to present themselves in varied look, particularly if classes will continue via Zoom, where everything is so clearly visible, pimples, hair style, same garments worn tot often, what a bore. And you can imagine a typical dialogue a few weeks from now, when the compulsory protective masque will become (as promised already) THE fashion item for 2020 summertime. “Oh look at this! How cute, with the Hello Kitty design… Or why not that one, a bit more Grown Up… Or take both, little princess, and this one as well, in the same fabric of your bikini…“ Essential accessory indeed, if it is true that even the seaside will require a disciplined attendance, this summertime. A turn for Via Montenapoleone, most elegant street in Milan. Armani, Ferragamo, Cucinelli, Valentino, Cova Patisserie. The most precious jewellery and accessories brands. The most exclusive courtyards, all here. And empty. The sight of all that opulence was so extravagant that I walked down in haste. But I could not ignore D&G window for its excess display of exoticism, almost obscene in these times of confinement. A scenographic recreation of a tropical ambience, with stuffed wild animals filling every space on the floor, and birds and parrots peeping out the fake foliage, surrounding two D&G dressed maniquins looking Sooo Sad. Sadness all over: glassed eyes, frozen gaze, lunar make up, vintage-like look in predictable D&G style… so much waste of offer, effort, with nobody around to impress! One Coffee Shops was open in Piazza San Babila, and I could have my Macchiato at last. But only “for asporto”, Take Away. People cue outside and when is their turn order what they want to a masqued guy beyond a barring entrance table. Then the Macchiato comes, already sugared, wrapped: pure nonsense, any Ape Bar could serve the purpose with less operative costs. But all restaurants remain close, they only work on order. Uber, Deliveroo, Let’s Eat, that business never stopped and actually flourished, since choosing a different restaurant every new meal offered a ‘diversivo’ for well off households suddenly deprived of domestic help. Some restaurants will not open at all, even when permitted at the end of May: with only 30% of consumers allowed, the revenues will not cover for the costs. And thus a quite artistic protest was staged near Arco della Pace the other day, each restaurateur represented by an empty chair from his own restaurant, all chairs displayed at due distance, a quite neat, not at all invasive installation, that just two months ago could have been perhaps endorsed by the Attività Produttive Authority. Instead the Police arrived, objected that the Ordinanza Anti Assembramento was clearly ignored, imparted an extra € 500 fine to some organizers for Occupation of Public Space – the cruelty of the moment was palpable on every TV report that was broadcasted later on. Where will we go from here, from this moment of uncertainty and loss and also gratuitous intimidation and abuse - only god knows. Lives, incomes, jobs, dear ones, well oiled routines, so much has gone. How it will be possible to resume normality and how normality will be defined from now on – if so many things that we considered assured, given for granted only two months ago (for example rights: of strike, reunion, protest, freely roam around, unmasqued breathing, children playing, normal education inside school, kissing/hugging each other, gathering inside/outside public spaces) are now in question, constantly scrutinized, too often punished… On my way home, sitting between two empty seats in an almost empty bus, I received a whatsapp from a friend who has lost her favourite aunty ten days ago, in what is now clearly named as ‘strage’, institutionally organized killings, inside a particularly badly managed Home. The picture of four individuals around their 70ies, three women and one man, sitting in their armchairs, looking fine, serene, certainly not near their last breath. And the message. “A picture just received from the nurse, taken a few days before my aunt was declared dead. She is the second from the right side, next to her male friend: would you say that she is suffering? I wdn’t say so! And yet no visit was allowed, so unfair. Her friend was always begging for little kisses, jokingly, that she was happy to give on both cheeks, loudly. They were like children, laughing at nothing. I’m now worried about him, alone…” I felt like crying.