I think if you stand too close to Anna dello Russo you begin to morph into her not-so-quite replica. Such has been the fate of her assistant, Carlotta Oddi. Not quite Anna, but still quite Eurotrash.
Excuse me while I make myself an espresso before I continue this post.
Ok recharged! Why do I think Carlotta is Eurotrash beyond her physical proximity to the reigning queen? It’s all in the face. Her physiognomy suggests a certain grace – etiquette, almost. I mean, I could be totally wrong, but I feel her upbringing was totally equestrian and noble. She’s the kind of Italian that speaks fluent English, went to Oxford and summers with Helena Bordon in St. Tropez. She was probably one of the first Italians to wear Abercrombie, when it was all American prep, back in the day, and you needed some sort of North American affiliation to procure it.
A few Chanel bags are her own, the rest of her clothes are either ADR hand-me-downs or borrowed. Her own wardrobe exists of Brunello Cucinelli, Hogan and surprisingly, every single Liu-Jo t-shirt to ever exist. Once in a while something of hers makes an appearance and you can spot it right away – their is something familiar about it, like an extension of that graceful being her eyes conspicuously give away, even behind mirrored shades.
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