La Bella Figura, translated literally means “the beautiful figure.” It can mean many things but for Italians it is a way of life and it means the way one appears and presents oneself in the world. Italians are very protective of La Bella Figura, they guard it with their lives and would do anything to preserve it. It might be hard for us to understand, but in essence Italians take pride in the way they look, not only physically, but also figuratively and most importantly how they look in other people’s eyes. They are obsessed about making the best impression everywhere and at all times. In their minds there is a certain way that one is supposed to behave and act, and if one doesn’t … oh, well then it is a Brutta Figura (ugly figure)!
This way of thinking permeates the essence of the Italian being. No wonder Italians are known for beauty, presentation, quality and luxury. For centuries, they have mastered the art of presenting oneself in the most perfect way possible. Beauty is valued and respected in Italy as one of the venerated assets of the culture. From the art to the architecture and all the way to the perfectly designed dress, the Bella Figura can be found in the style and fashion we love and follow today. Just think about the effort Italian women make every day when they put on their stilettos and walk down the cobblestone street, now that is dedication! Keep reading »
This weekend, I was running errands in my neighborhood when I bumped into someone I slept with in the last year. (Narrows it down, doesn’t it? Ha!) Immediately, I felt overwhelmingly flustered. In fact, I may have spoken some form of gibberish. After exchanging pleasantries — his sensical, mine, not so much — we went our separate ways, but I found myself weirdly shaken up. It was the sort of thing that I would have previously associated as a sign that I had romantic feelings for that person; my shaky hands an indicator of nervous sexual energy, and the vague nausea in my stomach would have been called “butterflies.” I would have relished that feeling, called it “thrilling.” Wondered when I would see that person in a naked capacity again and, Oh! Did he feel it too? Ah, the mystery. Isn’t that what makes romance so exciting?
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I read a blog post earlier this month that sounded a familiar refrain: Are single women too independent for their own good? Women’s magazines ask that question, men’s magazines ask that question, and the answer is almost always the same: yes. Keep reading »
I’m single, which is working out great because I hate grooming. My ex is awesome, but between you and me and the internet, she could be a total bitch about “soap and water.” Whatever! Now I’m free to wallow in my own filth and believe me, I stink hard. Sure, I look like a lumberjack raised by monkeys, but that’s not why I go to the movies alone. I go to the movies alone because I might as well get used to it, seeing as that’s how I’m going to die. Alone. When I was younger, bourbon was my primary emotional coping mechanism. But since then, I’ve become an adult. Instead of drowning my feelings in delicious brown magic water, I express them to my bestest friends on Twitter. Why, just last night, I twooted the funniest twitter tweet, which was “WHY? #Why?” But I know why this happened and I think it’s related to that one time she said “I love you” and I responded “Baby Stewie is a hilarious character! A baby that speaks like people!” Keep reading »
Awful first dates (and second dates … and third dates …) are The Frisky’s bread and butter. But every so often the goddesses smile upon us and we’re blessed with a first date to call your mom about instead of your therapist.
Not to brag or anything, but I had a kickass first date this weekend. We went to the Bronx Zoo together and he didn’t run for the hills when I tried to climb into the red panda cage and give it a hug. Then he asked if I wanted to get dinner, so we took the subway all the way downtown to my favorite Venezuelan restaurant. We got some Starbucks, sat in a park talking, and finally saw a movie together before heading our separate ways. I didn’t want it to end!
OK, now I’m just bragging. But my point is that I had the best time. And because I had a two-hour train ride home at the end of the night, I had a lot of time to think about just what it is that makes a great first date. Keep reading »