As luck would have it, my visit to Milan coincides with the start of the summer sales - time, perchance, for some judicious refinforcement of my wardrobe? With vague aspirations towards buying 'interesting' jeans, 'Italian' shirts and 'cool' T-shirts, I set off on the metro at 9.30ish with a wallet full of Euros, and let nature take its course.
First up: Il Salvagente (it means 'the safety belt', heaven knows why), located in a rather distant neighbourhood way out east. Around the back of a nondescript hairdresser's on a nondescript street, you find an Aladdin's Cave of bankrupt stock from the city's ever-expiring boutiques. Deploy elbows and start rummaging. Prices are way cheap anyway (one third off the original, or thereabouts), but today, because of the sales, there was a further 40% off everything, putting the prices in the realm of the ohmigodthisisinsane. Half of Milan showed up - the checkout queue was so lengthy, and the wait so long, that we probably could have formed our own government in there.
Impressively hefty carrier bag in hand, I then headed north to Porta Venezia, hopping from shadow to shadow like a sunburnt ninja apprentice. On Corso Buenos Aires the pavement seemed to be melting underfoot; with temperatures in the mid-thirties, I had my sympathies. The money flowed freely, just like the tarmac - the rest of my spending allowance duly found its way into the coffers of Sisley and Zara. Having ticked off my shopping list several times over, I bought a very large bottle of cold water and slumped onto a metro train the hell out of there. In the circumstances, stripping off in front of the air conditioner in the apartment seemed like a very sweet idea.
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