So today was interesting. I definitely wouldn't say the best day ever. The best part of the day definitely was my pomodoro and prosciutto sandwich. But my adventure for the day was to the Gucci Museo. Honestly walking up to the museum itself is intimidating, a dark stone building that screamed expensive, but I was confident that I didn't hold myself as a confused American, so I strolled up to the door, not knowing about the disaster that was to follow.
Starting with a positive note, the museum was beautiful. Every piece of Gucci clothing was well designed, with pieces from the 1920's all the way to pieces worn months ago. My favorite part of the museum held the evening gowns worn by and made for Cameron Diaz, Blake Lively, Evan Rachel Wood, and Salma Hayek. These gowns were flawless, with sequins and feathers yet looking perfect. As I stared at each gown, only guessing the value, I kept wanting to try on each gown. As a celebrity, when Gucci personally designs a gown for you, that's when you made it. Unfortunately I wasn't able to take pictures in the museum, which begins my tale of the disaster in Gucci.
Walking in the museum there is no direction on where to go, so I just stood there waiting for someone to direct me. Finally, noticing my obvious confusion, a well dressed employee helped me to the desk and I paid for my entrance. As I began walking through the first floor of the museum, I cautiously took a few pictures and began to enjoy myself. Then some rude woman yelled at me for taking pictures, I knew it was too good to be true. From that point on I was followed by a security guard through every room, not sure if they just wanted me to be watched but they sure weren't following any of the other people walking from room to room. Finally making it through the museum, I sighed with relief, knowing I wasn't being followed. I decided to grab a coffee in the cafe. Once again getting in trouble for taking my coffee away from the counter, THERE ARE NO SIGNS, I guess it's just assumed you know what to do. At this point I just wanted to leave, my poor attempt to fit in failed miserably and now I just wanted to be a tourist and eat a Big Mac, because I obviously wasn't Italian and they made sure I knew. Finally strolling out I was relieved, so you might say to yourself, that's it, Corinne is fine, but no. Next thing I know the security guard is calling me telling me I need to go back inside. I should have just ran away but then I probably wouldn't be in the comfort of my home, I would be in some Italian jail crying. So I just followed him inside, confused. I was hoping he wouldn't take me back into the cafe, I was already embarrassed. As he thoroughly searched my bag, I realized he thought I stole something. At this point, I was completely done with Gucci. Lesson learned.
As I finally escaped the prison of pretentiousness, I was the most obnoxious tourist on the planet. I almost threw up the peace sign in a few photos. Super Asian American style. Then it began to rain. I decided it was time to go home. Tomorrow I will look more Italian. Today I'm that confused American that takes a lot of photos and talks louder than everyone else. Proud to be an American. Born in the USA.