There is a fantasy, spawned by W. Shakespeare, propagated by H. James, embraced by A. Hepburn and the Twins Olsen, that today goes something like this: a sad modern lady, one intimately familiar with the Lean Cuisine family of products, packs white linen pants, slinky black dresses, and several packs of Kleenex. She boards a plane, fed up with her soul-crushing home life. But upon arrival in glimmering Italia—bravissima! She falls in love with the first man she encounters, and the pair consummate their attraction not just with physical love but with dinners alfresco and molto vino, sipped from these adorable bistro glasses you totally can’t find back home. She becomes unmoored from her mores—she might bite into a San Marzano tomato like it’s an apple, its juices dribbling down her forearm unchecked, or chop off all her hair. A Vespa—preferably a cream-colored one with caramel leather seats and a tanned, suede-loafer-sporting owner—is likely involved.
Sarah Ball, on Tuscany porn. (via newsweek)
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