Venice, Without Clothes

It's ironic that I'm beginning day two in Venice without my luggage. I've created an entire blog about style and travel and so the what-to-pack, what-to-wear thing is probably way too important to me. Is this my comeuppance, a get over yourself, Cathie, message? Happily, I didn't wear a sweatsuit on the plane (as you know, I think they're the worst), but instead, very comfortable cashmere bellbottoms with matching sleeveless shell and shawl, all in black. The outfit worked fine last night at the Ristorante Gran Caffe Quadri where we were introduced to the dignitaries of the Italian Tourist Board who are hosting this Italian Travel Symposium of the Veneto region.

Venice is, and always will be, the one dressed up. She's the dowager of finery, style and romance. My lost luggage is a blip on her radar and for that matter, as I'm swooning over her beauty, lost luggage doesn't matter to me either.

The gondoliers in striped shirts, the waiter in white dress coat–now that's trade-style that could, and has been, rehashed by countless designers. Would they let me borrow their shirts, jackets? There is a Chanel store on the corner in the building of this hotel, Luna Hotel Baglioni, perhaps I should pop in for new blouse? But no, it's not about me...