“In fact,” I said slowly, pulling myself away from him, “it is a problem, a big problem. What made you think that I wanted to start a relationship with a married man?”
“A relationship! Hey, wait a minute… What made you think that I was interested in a relationship? You are a pretty woman and I enjoyed my time with you… That’s all! I only wanted to have a fun night with you…”
I was disgusted. Yes, men are all assholes. The bitch Valentina was absolutely right. I just wanted to go home. Alone.
“Rather than having a fun night with you, I would prefer sitting on my couch waiting for the menopause! Look for somebody else. Goodnight!”
“I didn’t think you were so prudish, especially at your age!”
Ok, just because a single woman is thirty something should she stop being selective? Shouldn’t she grab every chance? So, do I have to sleep with all the men in Milan, married or not? Fuck! I looked at him, outraged, and headed home. It was incredible how many morons there were in Milan.
After a few seconds, I heard his sarcastic, “Goodbye Rebecca!”
As soon as I got home, I took off my Chanel shoes and threw myself on the sofa. I was furious!
I wondered if the dentist’s wife ever used sweet and passionate words with him, like those in Etienne’s letter. Well, she didn’t have great luck with a husband like that! I drank a couple of glasses of water, washed my face and went to bed. At least tomorrow morning I would have something interesting to tell my two friends.
The next day I arrived at the office with a horrible hangover. I had tried to feel better by drinking litres and litres of coffee, but it didn’t work. When I checked my computer, I immediately found an e-mail from Emma asking in a funny tone how my romantic adventure had ended. I quickly answered her, and her reaction was only one word: bastard!
I was happy to see she agreed with me. After all, maybe I wasn’t such a prude!
Valentina came over to my desk to hand me some documents. I yawned. She stared at me and said, “Is Her Majesty with us today or is she still dreaming in her silk sheets?”
“Sorry, I’m a little tired today.”
“Did our sweet Snow White stay up late last night?”
“Yes, I think I had too much wine…” I said, and immediately regretted my words.
“How was he?” The bitch had her usual sarcastic tone.
“What made you think that there was a he?”
Her disregard for privacy was pathological.
“There is always a man when a woman drinks too much wine… So? A new flirt?”
“No, there isn’t any new flirt. I just had a dinner with friends…”
“Such a bore! Last night I met a new guy on Tinder. Are you on Tinder? You definitively must join! Maybe even you could find someone! He was very sexy and we had a fabulous night. Too bad this morning he had to run back to his fiancée!” She started laughing out loud.
I should have asked the married dentist for his telephone number and given it to her. They would be the perfect couple!
“The other evening,” she continued, not even realizing I couldn’t be less interested, “I went out with a guy you would have loved. He’s very skinny with vintage clothes. I thought you two might have several things in common. Why don’t you check his profile?” She smiled.
“Thank you for trying to help, but at the moment I’m fine…” I had no intention of signing on with a match-making website, and didn’t care for meeting someone online.
“As you wish, but sooner or later you should relax. You can’t keep acting like a little nun forever! Sex is good for work, it stimulates creativity. It’s for this reason that I’m the most brilliant person in the entire office!” She laughed again.
After these words, Valentina rose to the top of the list of people I hated most. She surpasses even the whale!
She finally left, and I thought about what happened to me the night before. I was realizing that having a busy sex life had become absolutely normal, both for singles and couples. Being faithful wasn’t considered an important aspect in a relationship any more. Apparently what kept people from betraying their partners was never the thought of hurting them. On the contrary – maybe I’m out of date on this too! – but I believe in monogamy. I don’t mean in an absolute sense – I feel it is impossible and maybe not too realistic to have only one man for your whole life – but in a relative sense, yes. I like the idea of being unique for my partner. And I never thought of betraying my partner simply because I didn’t feel the desire to. Sexual fidelity had never been an issue for me. It is somehow in my nature. For the whole year I saw Niccolò, I never thought of another man, even during the long weekends I spent without him. Now, after our break-up, I often wonder how many other women he saw when we weren’t together. I never asked him: on one hand because I somehow trusted he felt like I did. On the other hand, because I couldn’t pretend fidelity, since I never had the courage to express my feelings. And – as we know – if there are no feelings, there’s no being faithful.
I knew I had a different attitude towards sex than most people my age. Let’s take Marco – the asshole last night – as an example. If he had decided to betray his wife, it wasn’t my problem. I could have not cared about it. I didn’t know his wife and didn’t have any obligation to her. Yet, I didn’t feel it was right. Perhaps I am loyal to all women… well – to be honest – not exactly all women.
Perhaps this is my limitation: I am only able to love exclusively, I am not capable of compromising. But I like to think there is something original and genuine in my attitude towards sex and relationships. In fact, as my heroine and role model was one of the most nonconformist women of the last century, I shouldn’t be afraid of feeling differently, but proud of it. I shouldn’t try to be a conformist. Actually, feeling a little revolutionary made me feel better. I will not become cynical and will keep dreaming big. I will remain the romantic I am, in spite of everything. I smelled Chanel No 5 through the pashmina scarf I had around my neck, and went back to work.
During my lunch break Claudio called me. He too was curious to know how my night with the dentist had ended. Claudio had become a very close friend. I never had such a deep friendship before with a heterosexual male. Almost always physical attraction, and sometimes a sense of possession, made friendships with men complicated. On the contrary, it had been easy and natural with Claudio. We were two loyal good friends – nothing more. I knew he found me attractive, but there wasn’t any sexual chemistry between us, and this had allowed us to be true friends. Just a few days before, he quoted the end of Casablanca, one of his favourite films: Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I felt deeply moved.
I needed a friend like him in Milan, otherwise Emma would tell me to go to hell one day. They both shared the burden. Me.
Over the phone, the first thing he laughingly asked me was, “did you score last night?”
I laughed too. “No, the dentist was married!”
“… and he even remembered he was married when he began to flirt with you!”
“He didn’t think it was a problem.”
“Was it a problem for you?” Claudio asked.
“I think so… I thought about it and decided that I deserve a lover without the burden of a family.”
“I understand. You don’t know how many times I suffered because I got involved with married women!”
“I can’t understand how people can so easily keep love and sex separated. Even when there is passion.”
“Coco, I’m afraid that we are the odd ones. These days passion and feelings are two completely different things. I have met several married people – men and women – who have several affairs while at the same time they claim to deeply love their legitimate partners.”
“I would be devoured by a sense of guilt!”
“Because you’re a romantic.”
“Let me be clear. In my past I’ve had some sex & rock roll only affairs; yet if someone I could l
ove appeared, I stopped fooling around.”
“Ah, ah, ah! So no sex for the poor dentist last night?”
“I don’t know, Claudio… Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go to bed with him. Are you convinced too that the only way to forget someone is to make love to the first person you meet?”
“The truth is, Coco, that there isn’t the right answer for everybody. Some people can forget their old love by only falling in love with someone else. For others it’s easier, and they can soothe their pain with sex, Sexual Healing. Some people just need time. However, time helps us to feel better. Maybe it’s still early for you to jump into a new relationship, or perhaps you’re only waiting for the right person. Who knows?”
“Frankly, I hoped someone could show me the way!”
“I get it! This won’t console you, but I am telling you that many have experienced a broken heart. Suffering for love is one of the most painful things that can happen in life. And it’s always as if it were the first time. We are always unprepared. Love knocks you off your feet, then it’s gone as if nothing happened. And we, silly human beings, are helpless before the power of love. We can only surrender.”
“Do you think this torment will pass sooner or later?”
“Yes! I promise. And when it’s finally over, we’ll celebrate. But remember, on that day I will forbid you to drink on an empty stomach – you become dangerous…” His laugh made me laugh. He was right. I should lighten up.
“I have to grab some lunch now. Do you want to have a beer tonight?”
“Tonight I have dinner with my favourite colleague. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Ok. Have a good evening!”
I went to the café to order my usual cheese and ham toast and sparkling water, then I took a walk.
Walking relaxed me. Sometimes I took the subway to discover new places, secret parts of Milan that made me feel at home. I found new interesting showrooms, little Chinese markets, eccentric nails spas and pretty boutiques. Wandering around made me feel as if I were still in Venice, although I didn’t hear that special sound of gondolas gliding in the water. I missed that terribly.
On the way back to the office, I decided I would go shopping later that afternoon. I had lived in Milan for weeks now and hadn’t done any serious shopping yet. Shame on me! It was time to use my credit card.
When I got out of the subway in via Manzoni it was almost seven. I headed towards Armani and then I took via Montenapoleone, the temple of fashion, and sped up; I really wanted to buy something before the stores closed.
I’ve always been fascinated by fashion. It’s a world full of creativity, elegance and beauty. It helps us dream. I’ve never been a fashion victim who spends all their salary on designer clothes. I have my own style and look for clothes that fit my personality. Clothes, like women, must be unique. Coco Chanel said that fashion is made to become unfashionable. Every season it changes, re-invents itself. Yet there are the timeless pieces: the sheath dress (my beloved uniform – I even bought one in a sale at Maison Chanel in London!), tailored suits, black pants, cashmere sweaters and trench coats.
I passed by the windows of Versace, Prada, Valentino, Etro and Gucci. Then I entered a small outlet that had fantastic bargains. I couldn’t resist. I looked around to see what would be right for me, something understated, but not too classic. I carefully avoided faux animal prints, skirts too short and leather, and began to look at dresses. Predictably, I picked up a beautiful sheath dress by Dolce &Gabbana and decided to try it on. In the fitting room I put it on and realized it was a little too big for me. Was it possible? I asked the salesgirl for advice and, after looking at me for a moment, she went back to bring the same dress in a smaller size. I felt my heart in my throat: was I really fitting into something that small? Slowly I tried it on, I pulled the zipper up and – a miracle! – it worked. And even without holding my breath. I was very excited. I couldn’t believe that love, unrequited love, had done the miracle. I had lost a lot of weight!
I took the dress off, handed to the girl, almost shouting, “I’ll take it!!”
Honestly I never thought that this would happen: Rebecca Bruni fitting into that size. It was front page news! I was so happy that I didn’t care about the price. I grabbed my shopping bag and proudly walked out into the warm Milanese evening.
In front of the Gucci window, while walking fast, I stumbled into someone. His bags and mine fell on the ground. I bent down to pick them up, apologizing for being so clumsy. And – oh my god! – when I looked up I saw those unmistakable blue eyes.
“Will we be able to meet one day without falling down or dropping something?” Etienne laughed, taking back his shopping bags.
“Please, excuse me. I always have my head in the clouds…”
I noticed he had done some shopping at Versace and Gucci, and that he wore Armani jeans. I didn’t know errand boys had such big salaries!
“A new dress?” he asked looking at my bag.
“Well, yes. I needed it…” I answered, still excited about my new dress size!
“I adore shopping in Milan, it’s the ideal city for it.” Then he added, “Do you have time for a coffee?”
It wasn’t really coffee time, but I wanted to accept. I also thought of his letter, that I still had in my hand bag, but I was too embarrassed to give it back to him at that moment.
We went into a very elegant bar and ordered two espressos.
“I love Italian coffee. In Paris I have an Italian moka pot, and use it every morning.”
“So, are you from Paris? Do you go back often?” I began to feel very curious about this man.
“Every time I can.” I heard a slight teasing tone in his voice.
“Do you have relatives there?” I couldn’t confess that I had read his letter and knew he had a passionate fiancée.
He looked at me, perplexed. “I have my family there.”
Ok. He didn’t want to talk about Juliette. It was his business and of course I wanted to respect his privacy. At least this time!
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I was taken aback. He was very straightforward!
“No, I’m taking a course to learn how to be independent!” I tried to be funny. I couldn’t confess to this fascinating man that I had been rejected by all the men I had met.
“I like independent women.” His smile was so charming that I started to feel butterflies in my stomach.
We got out of the bar and kept walking and chatting. It was pleasant. We were in via Sant’Andrea and I stopped to look at the Chanel boutique window. The collection was faithful to Coco’s original spirit: black and white dominated, and there were long strings of pearls round the mannequins necks.
“I adore Chanel,” I confessed, while he was looking at the window with interest. “In Venice I had an aunt who wore only Chanel. She had been educated in a boarding school where all the teachers were dressed in severe little black dresses. She got so fascinated by this look that for the rest of her life she bought only Chanel clothes. She always had six strings of pearls round her neck and smoked long, thin cigarettes. I was her only niece and, when I was a kid, she let me try on all her beautiful dresses, tweed jackets with golden buttons and elegant knee-length skirts. She gave me the nickname, Coco. She died a few years ago. All her things went to an auction house. She was in debt because she had always lived beyond her means. Yet before dying, she gave me an important gift: her vintage Chanel 2.55 handbag. I still have it as a keepsake.”
“It’s a beautiful story. So, may I call you Coco?”
I smiled, blushing. He could call me any name he wanted with that warm, sensual voice!
“Since you know Chanel so well, do you mind being my personal shopper? I have to buy a gift for my mother and I’m still undecided. I leave for Paris tomorrow. We are having a birthday dinner for her that evening.”
“Are you sure? I think Chanel prices are pretty crazy…”
Having a small budget for my clothes, I never
really went into a Chanel boutique. I only looked in the windows.
He laughed. “I have some savings…”
“Perfect!” I was excited. I was going to shop in the boutique of my dreams.
We looked around the store: classic tailored suits, black and white sheath dresses and incredible evening gowns.
“That is you…” he said, while I was holding up a little black dress in front of me and looking in the mirror.
“Thank you. That’s a great compliment.”
“Somehow you seem to come from another era. You remind me of my mother and her girlfriends in vintage black and white photographs.”
Shit! Was he telling me I looked old?
“Well, that’s not something a woman usually wants to hear…”
“Oh no! I’m sorry. I meant to say that you have a timeless charm.” He was sweet and kind, and I kept blushing.
Then we started to look at accessories: beautiful pins shaped like camellias, elegant leather gloves and wonderful hats.
“How do I look?” I asked, wearing a small black bowler hat.
“Wonderful! You look like Charlie Chaplin!”
“Umm… Right! It’s not for me.”
“You’re funny, Coco.” Hearing him saying my name gave me goose bumps. I liked it.
“Madame… Sir, we are about to close.” A lady in a white and navy suit invited us to hurry. And we still had to find the gift! I glanced at an off-white handbag with golden accents and it caught my attention. I touched it. The leather was very soft. “What do you think of this for your mom?” Etienne came closer for a look. “Not sure how much you want to spend… it’s expensive.” For sure I couldn’t afford it.
“For my mother I spare no expense!” He gave the handbag to the sales person together with his credit card. His mother was a lucky woman!
We both left the store satisfied.
Coco Chanel Saved My Life Page 6