Read Online Coco Chanel Saved My Life by Danielle F. White - Free Book Online

instructions of my tutor, the
very nice
Valentina, who didn’t miss a chance to let me know how slow, lazy, unprepared, etcetera, I was. I had been assigned to a reception for about fifty guests, in a small villa near Milan, and I was trying to do my best.
    When I got home in the evening, I was wiped out, with a migraine and my stomach in knots.
    Once in a while, I knocked on Claudio’s door to have a beer with him and talk before dinner. We were both still looking for
the great love
. While I was giving up, he continued to hope. He believed in destiny and knew that the woman he was looking for would come, sooner or later. He didn’t rush. Sometimes, when he felt especially lonely, he found consolation in the arms of the occasional lover. Instead, I was still convinced that in losing Niccolò I had lost the best and only chance of love in my life. I struggled to believe something new and beautiful would ever happen again to me.
    When Claudio pushed me to make an effort, to introduce myself, to flirt with some nice guy, I always found them uninteresting: too imperfect, too boring, too ugly or too stupid. Perhaps it was too early to jump into a new relationship.
    One evening we were drinking at a bar, and had invited Emma to join us. We’d already had our second glass of wine, when a guy approached our table and asked me if we had met before somewhere. He was handsome, with dark hair, and wore trendy glasses. I didn’t think I had met him before, but Emma insisted on inviting him to our table. He was very kind and offered us another glass of wine (my third on an empty stomach!). His name was Marco; he was a dentist. Finally, we discovered that we had met before at a medical convention organized by my Venice agency. He remembered how I dressed and told me he liked my style. I felt gratified: I knew that following Coco Chanel’s advice wasn’t a mistake.
    We chatted all evening, ordering more wine and also food – most of all so I wouldn’t pass out! Marco was nice, brilliant and sweet. He showered me with compliments and – I confess – I didn’t dislike it.
    Emma and Claudio, seeing me so relaxed, found an excuse to leave us alone, and suddenly they disappeared. I hadn’t felt so carefree in ages, and so kept talking to Marco for a couple of hours. Then we decided to take a walk. It was a beautiful and warm evening; the neighbourhood of Porta Romana was filled with people strolling.
    We walked with no particular destination, talking about our lives. Nothing too deep. He told me about some of his funnier patients, of their terror of opening their mouths, of the smiles of toothless little children that made him cheerful. I talked about my new job, about that time I ruined Emma’s cousin’s wedding party, my habit of reading my horoscope and that of the people I know, and even about my shoe collection. It was relaxing to walk and talk with a stranger who didn’t know anything about me. I forgot my sleepless nights and my tears.
    Near the old Spanish wall that surrounds Milan, Marco gently placed his hands on my hips, pulled me closer, and kissed me. I was lost in that kiss, and found myself lightly biting a stranger’s lips in the middle of a warm Milanese night.
    I wanted to be happy again, beautiful and courted. So I closed my eyes and we continued to kiss, until he whispered in my ear, “your place?”
    I looked into his eyes, trying to establish whether I really wanted to make love to him. I had suffered so much for a man – maybe now I should take more time in the dating phase before giving myself to the next man. I wanted to be desired, I wanted sex to be more than just a workout to burn off the cocktail calories.
    â€œI’m sorry, Marco, but I think this is all happening too fast.”
    â€œI understand, but it’s your fault: you’re so beautiful and sexy. I can’t resist you!” It was a well-known and dated strategy, but