my voyage to italy: pt. 7

There is nothing sexier than when a woman makes an exit and there's the surprise of a bare back. The only thing slightly closer is the way a woman's calf muscle looks while wearing heels or the way their backsides move in a snug and preferably short skirt. You almost wonder if clothing was made expressly for women. The soft curves and lines of their bodies give clothes a purpose and life that rarely exists for men. The way a top grazes their shoulder or a pair of jeans hangs just low enough cannot compare to the way men throw on a shirt or pants.

A staple in a woman's wardrobe, the little black dress is universal in its appeal and shape. I've seen the black dress worn the right way dozens of times before, but I will never forget the image of a woman wearing one while riding her bicycle in my neighborhood in Florence. Long-limbed and sun-kissed, she sat atop her vintage bike with an ease and comfort. She whizzed by me, obscuring her face only for me to discover the concern wasn't her face but what she said with the curve of her tanned spine and exposed shoulder blades. Her black dress draped to her knee like in a classic A-line shape, but it had a wide deep, plunging v-cut out in the back that revealed her confident and beautiful back. A loose bun at the base of her neck guided my eyes from top to the small of her back. Red slingbacks on her feet punctuated her simple but singular look. Quite simply it was stunning. There was something very Italian about that moment and that woman. I would never see something like that in America, nor would I want to because it would never come close to that fine Florentine riding her bike down a quiet street.