Italians, especially the Milanese, are so incredibly poised and polished to begin with, and fashion model Barbara Sangalli’s soiree would be full of swank socialites, fashion mavens, and dolce divas.
If the devil wears Prada, as the movie title states, it is because a fashion consultant in Milan, Italy, advised it. Milan is the headquarters of Prada and other fashion houses, including
Armani, Versace, Gucci, Zegna, Dolce & Gabbana and Sangalli.
Milan’s favored tourist attractions are historical, faith, architecture and art-based beautiful landmarks and experiences such as the Duomo di Milano, Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II,
Teatro alla Scala, and viewing Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Last Supper.”
But the ecosystem of the Italian big city that invented what the French named “pret-a-porter” is fashion, showrooms, high-end retailers and design industry educational institutions.
Given that information, how exactly does one pack for a vacation in Milan, the industry’s global fashion leader?
Life Imitates Art in Real Life Costuming
Celebrities had no issues with doing so to attend Milan’s annual Fashion Week in early Autumn, but the likes of Naomi Watts, David Beckham, Hilary Duff and Elizabeth Olsen are
likely dressed, in endorsement deals, by the designers.
In 2025, reality imitated art when the stars of the fashion movie “The Devil Wears Prada,” Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci, who will appear in the sequel currently in production, were spotted at Fashion Week events, as was Anna Wintour, for decades the editor of Vogue
Magazine. (Streep’s character in “Devil” is an homage to Wintour’s tenacity – a fashion industry “influencer” of vastly more power long before the term was invented.)
Imagine being the costume director on that movie set?
My Milan Wardrobe…Troppo Basta!
My first fashion experiences were, shall we say, regrettable. For my elementary school graduation, I wanted to dress like comedian Steve Martin, who, on his album cover, wore a
white suit, white shirt, and black tie.
My father, Arthur Shiels, took me suit shopping and tolerated a tan suit, but explained that a white shirt with it was too flat. “You need some other color to make it pop (I am paraphrasing),” he explained. So, I ended up with a powder-blue shirt under it and a multicolored striped tie. He was right.
My high school graduation photos have me in a black shirt with a white Members Only
jacket, embarrassingly mimicking Michael Jackson on the cover of his “Thriller” album. (I won’t even mention my accompanying curly perm!)
I do not know what I was thinking when, for my high school black-tie senior prom, I insisted my tuxedo have tails, striped pants, and an ascot – like an English morning suit. (I’d seen Tom Hanks wear one like it during a wedding scene in the mermaid movie “Splash.”
My date’s father, Jim Montry, when I picked up his daughter Amy, looked at me sideways and said, “That’s nicer than the suit I got married in.”
As for actual “haute couture,” I was in my late 20s when I decided I wanted to wear the
same dress shirts as Prince Charles. I would save money to spend too much – $200 – to buy
dress shirts that had a label embroidered on the inside of the back collar, which displayed the Royal Warrant reading: “Turnbull & Asser – Shirtmaker to the Prince of Wales.”
(I do not buy the shirts anymore, but when in London, I do purchase the Royal Warranted Penhaligon cologne, same as now His Majesty King Charles does.)
Milan Malaise
Years later, presuming I have evolved, I guess I think I am pretty fancy. My most cherished dress shoes come from a small family business called Rolando in Bellagio, Italy, on the Sarita Serbelloni, a street made of steps descending to Lake Como.
Generations of lovely people handcrafting footwear there make shopping there a special experience.
I packed those shoes and any other Italian-made apparel I owned into my suitcase for my recent trip to Milan. The visit came just after the city’s annual fashion week, and found me
lodged at the stylish, new NH Collection Milano City Life Hotel.
The property was once a church, and now, instead of brides processing down the aisle for weddings, models in glamorous gowns, dazzling dresses and sexy skirts walk the runway between the remaining columns and amidst the chic congregants in the still vaulted lobby area under the choir loft.
During a pleasant espresso with the hotel general manager, Riccardo Bombaci, it occurred to me that I may have overdone it. I sensed Bombaci could tell I was an American at first glance, before I even spoke, because I was wearing three Gucci-logoed accessories – shoes,
glasses, and a scarf, each with the unmistakable red and green stripe.
Bombaci probably should have scoffed at me and said, “Troppo Gucci, Americano? Basta!”
But he was politely tolerant, especially when he revealed his wife, a style expert, helps to dress the likes of Beyonce and Taylor Swift because she has worked in the fashion industry
for the likes of Cavalli and Versace!
“Instead of dressing me, my wife prefers to tailor dresses for celebrities, Bombaci insisted. “I am not a celebrity.”
But, in fact, fashion is in the family: Riccardo Bombaci, himself, was almost once hired by
Giorgio Armani, personally. And to top it off, as we spoke, a Chanel-sponsored event was taking place in his hotel, so I felt compelled to try to save my damaged fashion credentials.
Playing it Not So Close to the Vest
I felt that, to rescue myself, I had a card to play with Bombaci.
“You have Chanel with you here today, but I am going to another fashion-related event
tonight,” I said quietly, as if it were a secret.
“Si?” he asked.
“It is the birthday of Barbara Torno Sangalli, the wife of Federico Sangalli, the famed fashion designer.”
Bombaci leaned in to learn more. I told him the location, in the Brera area, like his hotel, has religious history.
“The party is at Sangalli’s atelier, which is in an ancient building restored by Cardinal Borromeo in 1500 because it was once the rectory of the church of San Carpoforo, built for Sant’Ambrogio, the patron saint of Milan, and his sister Santa Marcellina,” I recited.
I then told Bombaci that years ago, Sangalli had invited me to Milan Fashion Week.
“I missed them, but the Sangallis, during Milan Fashion Week, staged three shows at their historic atelier I just described.
Bombaci nodded as I continued. “Anyway, by 1800, that building was used to store the
documents and weapons of Napoleon, who used Palazzo Cusani as his personal residence
during the takeover of Milan.”
“Sant’Ambrogio and Napoleon – saints and sinners under one roof,” I smiled as I suggested the notion to Bombaci.
The notion of the word “sinners” provoked me to confess:
“And you think my ‘triple Gucci’ outfit is bad fashion? The first time I interviewed Sangalli, the great designer, about eight years ago…I was wearing a dreadful shirt designed by
‘Amazon Essentials!’”
Now we were both laughing.
Diving Into the Deep End
One cannot imagine the intimidation factor I felt as an American going to the black-tie
birthday bash of the wife of the famous Milan fashion designer, Federico Sangalli, held at his historic studio.
On top of that, Barbara Torno Sangalli, who was to be celebrated for turning 50, is a model and a mother of three who looks more like 30.
Italians are so incredibly poised and polished to begin with, and this soiree would be full of swank socialites, fashion mavens, dolce divas, and… me.
This was no time for an Amazon Essentials shirt. (And I avoided another “triple Gucci!”) Italian Catholic priests, and Irish, for that matter, will tell you that you commit a sin seven times each day without even knowing it, so I accepted the fact that, given the sky-high bar of this event, a fashion faux pas was for sure.
But I could not resist sporting some sartorial splendor: Gucci-striped sneakers, and a black, paisley, velvet tuxedo jacket, under which I wore a black vest (cummerbunds are a cruel joke for anyone but flat-bellies); and a stylish black bow tie (which I confess I did not tie myself).
I also flaunted a flamboyant pair of white marble-framed, rectangular, dark glasses, but they were gifted to me by Giovanni Fracassi, the owner of Venice’s Da Ivo, the famed canal-side
restaurant frequented by celebrities and world leaders.
The bold glasses are Fracassi’s trademark. Bespoke and buffalo horn, the glasses were designed by Antonio Battaglia and Marco Andreoni at In Barberia, around the corner from Da Ivo.
“These glasses are only to be worn by crazy people,” Fracassi advised me. I was honored by the gift and the…diagnosis.
Shaken and Stirred
Before I taxied from the NH Milano City Life Hotel, I had a vodka martini in the lobby at the “tabernacle bar” to calm my nerves.
I also texted an Italian diplomat friend of mine, asking for advice: “How late to the party should I be, considering Italian custom?”
Her response: “Be on time. Best advice.”
“Is that how Italians roll?” I followed up.
“The respectful ones,” she answered.
I followed her advice, and found myself mortified to be the…very…first…to…arrive. My first faux pas was achieved before I even entered the door.
Barbara Bellissima
The Sangallis were the picture of hospitality, gleefully greeting guests in the same hallway Napoleon, and Sant’Ambrogio and his sister Santa Marcellina strolled.
The fit Federico Sangalli, sporting a suit he designed himself, was able to wear a cummerbund, but I didn’t feel so bad when I noticed he, like me, wore a pre-tied tuxedo tie.
Sangalli also paired his tuxedo with tennis shoes, unapologetically bright red ones.
Barbara’s blue, bejeweled gown, also designed by her husband, was royal, befitting her regal and cherished role for the evening. It also did encumber her from dancing her head off all night to the disc jockey and the four-piece, traditional Italian band that came through to serenade her.
The firework-style candles on her birthday cake set the room alight, as did her radiant smile. But Federico, who largely resisted dancing, was glowing too.
“Federico, please tell me Barbara has an unmarried, twin sister!?” I implored.
He smiled and shook his head (something he has to do often with a “pazzo” friend like me.)
“I remember the first time I met Barbara,” Sangalli said seriously. “She was fantastic. She was a model. And she was very intelligent. So, I talked to myself and I said, ‘This girl will be mine.’ But believe me, a lot of people loved my wife. But I guess I won the romance because I love my wife. We are completely different, and so I think we complete ourselves.”
The Sangalli’s son Eduardo, who at 12 years old was dashing in his small Sangalli-designed tuxedo, was putting on a happy face.
“I am really happy for my mother, she had fun. I didn’t, but she did. It was a thing for older people, so they had fun. We are going to have fun when we are their age,” he explained as the Alphaville hit song “Forever Young,” coincidentally, played in the background.
We all laughed at the honesty of youth as Eduardo’s father shrugged and said, “He is a killer.”
The Sangalli’s other two sweet children, 11-year-old Robina and Lorenzo, 8, stayed up until nearly midnight on a school night to celebrate. I loved meeting Barbara’s mother, cultural
diplomat Aurora Marsotto, a significant author, writer, and screenwriter, who also edits dance criticism columns.
Like Bombaci earlier in the day, Marsotto, who could pass as Barbara’s sister, was sweet to me even though she had seen me try to dance. (In that vein, Federico Sangalli’s friend and business collaborator, the friendly fashion consultant Dott. Danilo L. Mercaldo was also kind, or diplomatic, to insist my apparel was acceptable. He even tried on In Barberia glasses.)
Talk of the Town
Sangalli’s studio, essentially a two-story, sunken atrium with a wall of books at one end, was a smashing setting for the party. Barbara and Federico, indeed, had many beautiful friends
who were just as friendly and funny as they were lovely on the dance floor and off. (My buffalo horn glasses turned out to be a great conversation-starter.)
The disc jockey set up his mixing stage directly on the glass window, which allows visitors
to look down through the floor at the historic ruins and the floor upon which Napoleon would have strutted.
Ironically, Sangalli spent many of his summers, beginning at age 7, like Napoleon, in exile, on the island of Elba. “My parents bought a house there and so I spent time following in
Napoleon’s footsteps,” he said.
“Visiting as an adult, I discovered my favorite wine on Elba, since 1500 B.C., was Napoleon’s favorite, at Tenuta la Chiusa.”
On this day in 2025, the same stone room was blazing with colored up-lights, balloons, plenty of prosecco, and hors d’oeuvres. I think Napoleon would have loved it.
Speaking of Napoleon prompted me to ask Sangalli if the French fashion industry (Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Dior, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Hermes, and Louboutin) surpasses that of Italy?
“That is a silly question,” he responded.
At that moment, just in time to save me with a distraction, servers carried in a giant
pot…it was a mid-party risotto delivery. (I wish, to this day, weeks later, I was still standing, with a spoon, at that pot.)
The Art of…Art. A Modern Italian Master
Photo by Michael Patrick Shiels
Yet another enchanting, creative twist to the party came when a quiet but poised young woman named Marty Brisa approached me.
“May I draw your portrait?” she asked.
How many times in life is someone going to request that, especially in the city where
viewing Leonardo da Vinci’s famous, mural-sized rendition of The Last Supper was the hottest ticket in town?
Of course, I agreed.
I tried to sit still between prosecco sips. The determination in her eyes enchanted me as
the artist peered at me, then back down to her sketch pad, then back up, rapidly, again and
again, as she drew. It was a hypnotic experience.
“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry) you have studied the details of a face like mine,” I joked to Marty
(though Chaucer, Shakespeare and Joyce all agreed “many a true word is spoken in jest.”)
Marty told me she is a 20-year-old student, born in the seaport of Savona, in the Italian province of Liguria, engaged in a three-year degree course in sculpture in Milan at Accademia Belle Brera.
The anticipation ended and she revealed her sketch.
“I have never looked better!” I assured her. “Grazie mille!”
I was so pleased and honored to meet such a poised and pleasant talent that I have hired her through Instagram Marty.Brisa, to sketch photos of family and friends as gifts.
One Last Question
The award-winning Federico Sangalli has outfitted stars on stage and presented his creations, including magical illuminated dresses with innovative fabrics, from Rome to Tokyo to Istanbul to Milan’s Royal Palace. His atelier is a creative lab, where fashion, art, culture and technology live together.
“What is the secret of looking fashionable?” I asked the humble, jovial genius.
He took a puff from his cigar and answered, “There is no secret. It is really, like the Billy Joel song about New York, a state of mind.”
Read more of Michael Patrick’s work at The Travel Tattler and contact him at
MShiels@aol.com Order his book Travel Tattler – Less Than Torrid Tales at
https://amzn.to/3Qm9FjN
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