Mention Milan and I immediately think of fashion. My mind starts picturing designer bag toting, stiletto heel wearing fashionistas… sleek looking ladies… impossibly chic Italian women. I imagine myself joining their ranks for a few days as I pound the pavements, ducking in and out of boutiques… arms becoming laden down with shopping bags as the day goes on… The shopaholic in me is basically in heaven. But this is all just a daydream. Shopaholic Connie hasn’t hit her stride in quite some time, about the same time a certain someone showed up on the scene.
I could spend, and have spent, hours strolling the streets of a foreign city just window shopping, making the occasional purchase here and there. I truly enjoy wandering through new shops, looking at new things, pondering whether I want it enough to squeeze into my luggage, but a certain someone doesn’t and there’s nothing more awkward than trying to shop with someone who hates the looking part.