Federico Fellini made himself
immortal with a scene from his probably most popular film: La Dolce Vita – and
I am not talking about Anita Ekberg splashing around in La Fontana di Trevi. The very first encounter between the two main
characters of the first episode, Maddalena and Marcello is epic. The both of
them meeting in a fashionable nightclub of Rome’s Via Veneto, before passing
the night together in a prostitute’s apartment they get to in a Cadillac
Cabriolet emphasizes, that even the most absurd situations can be managed with
great style. The very class and deadly dullness Maddalena acts with, during the
whole sequence, is a declaration of love to Italy and its lifestyle. It is even
this particular mix of Jet Set and grandezza,
which helps the Italian nation to solve nearly every problem until nowadays.
For my very own understanding it is the theory of sprezzatura, which could describe this special phenomenon best –
doing everything, it doesn’t matter how hard it may seem, effortless. That’s
probably why whole Italy is wearing sunglasses with an arising snow blizzard,
because nothing can be this terrible to leave the apartment without the newest
pair of GUCCI shades.
During my stay at the Salzburg
Easter Festival I had the opportunity to keep track of the bespoke phenomenon
of style. Other than at other Opera Houses, where the impression of an
increasingly incomprehension of fashion is observable, the audience at a
festival – and especially in Salzburg – dresses to kill for every single performance
they take part of. The amount of furs, diamonds, evening dresses and tuxedos is
to compare to nothing similar. I do really appreciate, that there is still a sense
for style among the often as outmoded labeled opera audience, and it is again
the Italians being vanguard in a fashionable context – there is nothing
comparable to a real signora.
After the last performance on Monday
evening I headed over to famous Hotel Sacher to have dinner with some friends
from Hamburg and Rome, where I had the great chance to meet the former
assistant of Valentino, one of Italy’s most famous designers. This lady
literally embodies the essence of Italian style. Though in her middle seventies
she still assures that style might simply be an outer expression of an inner
peace of mind, which may not be fully grown before having achieved a certain
age.
Still impressed of this chance
encounter I drove back home steadily thinking about, why a seemingly
superficial issue like the one of being fashionable or in style is this important,
or even not. Is style only about impressing the proper entourage or giving a falsified
image to our surroundings?
Talking about style it might be an
exaggerated understanding of self-confidence and a slight narcissism to make
oneself appearing classy. Marcello Mastroianni may have been one leading
example during the Italian post-war time demonstrating with a natural
nonchalance, living style as a new form of luxury – the extravagance of being
someone else and that is what the idea of fashion is about, isn’t it? The
possibility of being someone completely different every single day, simply out
of a mood – so maybe we should just be what we are.
Cheers
Lorax
