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September 21, 2017
Two Years Earlier
They simply kept going around and round on an infinite loop, the same pink knapsack, green duffel bag, and bungee-corded brown box 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. However after two hours of ready, frantically jumping from one baggage carousel to a different as a smattering of arriving flights touched down, it turned painfully clear that I can be spending the following ten days in
Italy stuck with the clothes I had on my back: a BO-infused green T-shirt with a pink heart silk- screened throughout the entrance, a pair of denims that had been decorated with various in-flight meal mishaps and highlighter-yellow slipper-sneakers. Not even my carry-on bag could save me — all it contained, apart from my wallet and passport, was a handful of Dramamine, a horseshoe- shaped 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 had been in Italy. Two years earlier, I had an entourage of luggage when we made our way from Rome to the Amalfi coast to attend the marriage of Karl’s good pals, Eric and Shana. Again then, my multiple baggage have been jammed with every little thing from the filmy peignoir set I had planned to drag out on our first night in Rome to the total-length choose’s robe I had volunteered to transport to Positano, a favor to the Officiant (who later admitted he wanted the extra area in his own suitcase for a postwedding shopping spree in Milan). As an alternative of asking myself, ‘Do I really need all those shoes ‘ I informed myself as I demolished my residence in a state of packing frenzy, ‘You may be prepared for something’ — from a freak snowstorm to the sweltering heat that this new love held for me.
In fact, all this overzealous preparedness was most likely a approach of managing my anxiety, a perception that so long as I packed that pair of silk cargo pants, those fourteen tubes of lipstick, and, I’m embarrassed to admit now, a spare roll of toilet paper, I would somehow manage
to keep away from another sort of journey emergency, one where my new boyfriend determined he didn’t actually care for my firm after spending 5 consecutive days along with his plus-one marriage ceremony date. Karl and that i had been seeing one another for only a few months, and up until our Italian
getaway, we had spent solely a handful of weekends together, lolling around in bed or on one in all our respective couches watching reruns of “Family Guy.” This journey required placing on actual clothes and remaining upright for an prolonged time frame, negotiating territory past our common haunts in D. C.and sharing a bathroom with a handheld showerhead and a door that didn’t lock or do a salvatore ferragamo net worth lot to block out certain, er, noises.