WHERE I WAS: MILAN

I always thought if I had my druthers, there would be no more wonderful city to live in, than in Rome. (Except maybe Tokyo, but too far away.)

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Then I spent a week in Milan. Clearly enjoying a renaissance, or rather a reset of people’s preconceived notions that it’s a cold and clinical city, Milan is all that you need. Yes there aren’t Rome’s yummy palm trees and sun-soaked aperitivo Mediterranean moments. But Milan's sleek subtlety dazzles you at every turn with its glamorous tiny touches: from its train station lighting to its floors, (all those terrazzo tiles!)

You peak behind a gate and can imagine all the interesting lives that have, and are still, being lived there:

Everywhere is a constant reminder of the city's deeply layered history:

And the constant chic bustle of its trams made me feel like I had stepped into a Wes Anderson movie:

And the passersby! The edited, elegant yet a dash-of-whimsy array of almost every everyone.

You stop counting after a while and accept that it’s notably normal:

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And of course, the dogs are chic:

If you, like me, get a secret thrill of how a person presents him or herself to the world, then this city’s renowned, dignified elegance will not be lost on you. It energized me. 

Plus, the cozy scale of the place: everything was about a 20 minute walk from everything else. Multiple stops could be done in an hour on foot. Just plug it into your Google maps "a piedi:"

A friend who lived there says it sometimes feels like a school campus where you inevitably run into someone you know when you criss cross via its narrow and winding streets or efficient grids.

Theres a formal intimacy here that’s infectious. Except for the morning that we went to the Prada museum. I never set foot in a cab.

And did I mention the food, art and design culture patiently waiting for you behind every alluring archway?