Fashionably yours

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, maybe… but in Milan, don’t bother. The locals are far too fashionable to ape, just enjoy the eye-candy instead. There’s nothing quite like Italian men to restore your faith in god. And the women inspire emotions that go from jealousy to admiration to an urgent need to shop.

Milan is much like the gorgeous supermodels who frequent this fashion capital — stunning, but not always the most approachable. And bone-chillingly cold, I would add, but that’s because I chose to visit in winter. Well, at least it’s not tourist season, I consoled myself. But one look at the crowds thronging the Quadrilatero d’Oro, and I was left wondering what peak season would be like in comparison.

It’s a city that’s up there with Paris, London and Tokyo as the fashion capitals of the world, but tourists mostly overlook it for the more popular Venice or Rome. Which is surprising given that Milan is as steeped in history as the other two and has more than its share of beautifully sculpted baroque churches and buildings. At the Duomo, a 16th-century cathedral, locals attend mass in cordoned-off sections even as tourists go around gaping at its magnificent interiors. I do the usual touristy things — donate a euro to the restoration fund (“Save a spire” is a compelling slogan), buy a postcard of the Madonna for my grandmother (only to later realise the Virgin is quite carelessly in the middle of breastfeeding the infant Jesus; religious as my grandmother is, she might not appreciate this little oversight), and light a candle while praying (obviously) for more trips to Italy.

One of my assignments in Milan is to deliver a package to a friend of a friend, an Italian from Capri who happened to be in the city. Paco, I discover, has lived and studied in Milan earlier, so I get him to show me around in return for the banana chips I’m delivering.

Left with a few hours to kill before I meet Paco, I walk around Milan’s busiest square, trying to soak it all in, and I end up inhaling a lot of second-hand smoke (and occasional whiffs of, let’s just say, something a lot ‘greener’ than tobacco.) Milan’s youngsters are a spectacularly well-dressed lot; in fact, everyone from little kids to grandmothers seem to have mastered the art of chic dressing, living up to their city’s reputation.

Paco takes me around suburban Milan, away from the glitzy stores and the restaurants where the waiters appear better-dressed than the tourists.

We walk across streets filled with a Saturday night crowd, and I’m tempted to try the aperitivo — a brilliant system where you pay for a minimum of two drinks and enjoy a spread of unlimited starters. Heading towards a lesser-known suburb called Naviglio, we discuss what to have for dinner. I am keen to try some authentic Milanese cuisine, but Paco talks me out of it, insisting that the classic saffron risotto would be too bland for my Indian taste buds. We finally settle on a pizza place that’s so popular with the locals that we have to wait a good 15 minutes for a table. While Paco munches on banana chips, we discuss other Indian foods and discover a shared love for that Kerala speciality jackfruit chips. The irony of travelling all the way to Milan and discussing the subtleties of fried chakka chips with my first Italian friend is not lost on me.

While it’s Venice that’s famous for its canals in Italy, I’m surprised to learn that Milan too was once dominated by waterways. In fact, Naviglio is named after the five interconnected canals called the Navigli that linked the rivers Ticino, Lambro and Adda to the mainland, thereby giving landlocked Milan access to the Adriatic Sea. Built in the 1930s, the canals were no longer used for transportation towards the late 1960s. Paco says there are plans to restore the Naviglio Grande, the biggest of the canals.

We finally get our table, sharing it with a (predictably) good-looking family of four, and order two pizzas. Similar in texture to the Indian naan , the steaming hot pizza has a crust that is chewy and thin, without the crispiness of the thin-crust pizzas back home. Halfway through my porcini and parmesan pizza, I am stuffed and Paco readily offers to finish it. Despite the full tummy, I magically find space for gelato (because, who says ‘no’ to gelato in Italy?). Clutching my double scoop of nero cioccolato — super dark chocolate — I discover the joys of eating ice cream when the temperature is below 6ºC. It took me about half an hour to be able to feel my fingers again, but that’s a deep-freeze worth every ounce of la dolce vita .

Travel log

Reach

Major airlines, such as Emirates, Qatar and Etihad, fly from India to Milan’s Malpensa airport, from where the city centre is 45 minutes away by train. In the city, walk, like the locals, or take a subway for long distances. Closer to the tourist areas there are trams that ply short distances. Taxis are expensive, and not recommended.

Stay

Ostello Bello is extremely popular with young tourists on a budget for its super-clean rooms, central location (short walk from the Duomo), lively bar and friendly staff who speak English (from €28; >ostellobello.com/en ). For more upscale options, the NH Touring on Via Ugo Tarchetti is a safe bet (from €99; >nh-hotels.it ).

Eat

Try I Capatosta for authentic Neapolitan pizzas and dine the old-fashioned way — share your table with locals. If you’re walking around the Quadrilatero d’Oro, try Luini for their famed panzerotti. But if you’d rather not wait in line, try Di Gennaro Pizzeria next door. The gelato is consistently good anywhere in the city.

(The writer was in Milan at the invitation of Kiton.)

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