blonde down!

I have never considered myself clumsy or a clutz, but today's occurance makes me question this belief.  Allow me to set the scene: I was walking along via Carducci with two of my roomates, Ashley and Monica, just heading to the metro stop on our way back from eating a most delicious panini (wet those appetites, food blogs to come!).  I am dressed in black riding pants, my black buckled boots, a gauzy white blouse, an army green belted jacket (courtesy of my benevolent shopping angel, BAP!), of course my long Michael Kors winter coat overtop all of this and the creme de la creme, my new white eskimo mittens (purchased only yesterday by the Duomo--Io ha vestiti nuovi, one of the first things I asked to learn in Italian class, meaning I have new clothes!).  Anyways, I am detailing my outfit not to create stirrings of jealousy about my location in an international fashion capital, but because of legit relevance to my story.  Now before I get too sidetracked trying on more of said vestiti nuovi, let me finish my tale.  The three of us girls were walking along, talking when all of a sudden BLONDE DOWN!  No, I was not shot and I am not writing this entry from a hospital.  As Ashley reported on the scene, one moment my blonde head was trotting along side her and the next I was out of sight on the ground!  I suppose I stepped on a slippery bit of a grate on the sidewalk and down I went.  Naturally, I can't do anything without a bit of Sam style, so rather than falling to my hands and knees or trying to catch myself, I simply slide from a vertical position directly into a horizontal one, landing in something I can best describe as an exercise DVD leg lift position.  You know, the kinds in which the instructor is wearing a neon sweatband over her teased hair and a skin-tight leotard, excitedly telling you to work your inner and outer thigh by "lift and hold, and again ladies!".  Confession: I am proud to have been born in the '80's so it is possible that I have explored my birth heritage through a history of cardio videos.  Regardless, all of this occurred in a matter of seconds, I was there and then I was on the ground.  Thanks to the down padding of my knee-length coat and my precious new gloves, I was spared any scrapes or cuts and rose to my feet hastily, unscathed, except for my pride.  Never would I fall in stillettos, but walking home from class in my everyday riding boots caused this embarassing debacle!  If passerbys mocked me, I couldn't understand them considering I was walking back from only day two of Italian 100.  All in all, I was able to enjoy a good laugh about the incident with my roomies on the metro back to our place and took a few Advil to ward off any oncoming soreness from my swan dive.  I am devastated to report that the greatest victim of the incident was my charming gloves, as seen below.  They truly acted as any of my fabulous clothes would and took the fall for me.  Anyone who questions why I love clothes should ask themselves  this: how many things do you know that would take a bullet for you or jump in front of a quickly approaching sidewalk to protect you?

xoxo's
grieving for her gloves

Not a Total Italian Move, but a Total Sam Move