As “others,” we are more often than not asked to define what we are. We also usually have a split second to decide the intentions of our interrogator. Am I black? Am I a New Yorker? Am I an American? Am I Caribbean-American? Naomi happens to love the word exotic. It conjures images of beautiful art. Jennifer and I are wary of the reductionist tone it often takes. Where do we belong?
It started with Grace Jones at a gala in Milan and ended in Italy’s Boca Raton. In between, there was a possible robbery, a strike and that glorious feeling of why not that can only be captured by Italian sprezzatura. Listen to this week’s edition of Never Date a Traveler and find out how I really detox after Fashion Month.