Mondays, Auntie Mame and Other Important Things

On what it means to be a Sloane woman, why seven in the morning is still very much the middle of the night, and the importance of never taking yourself too seriously.

Among the good things about this Monday evening (and I realise that putting “Monday” and “good things” in the same sentence is already an impressive act of optimism) is the fact that, well, this Monday is officially over.

Once again, we faced seven in the morning with great courage and an equally admirable amount of strength, eventually getting out of bed after the tenth alarm and with a delay that, by then, had simply become part of the schedule.

Auntie Mame (and if you haven't read it yet, consider this a book to add to your wishlist) insisted that seven in the morning was still the middle of the night. And honestly, who am I to disagree with her?

But Auntie Mame and Monday mornings aside, who I am is an entirely different story.

I'm quite a private person, which is rather curious considering I decided to create a brand and, immediately afterwards, a newsletter in which I tell you what I think. But contradictions, besides making life considerably more interesting, are often the things that tell us the most about a person.

So, as I sit here in front of my computer, listening to Pure Shores by All Saints and writing the very first newsletter of our weekly series, Notes from the City, I'd say the time has come to tell you a little more about The Sloane.

The Sloane was created for a certain kind of woman.
Or perhaps, more simply, for a certain way of living.

For women who understand that elegance has far more to do with attitude than perfection. That quiet glamour of women who never seem to be trying too hard, and are somehow impossible not to notice because of it.

And when I talk about elegance, I don't just mean the way they dress.

I mean the smile that somehow still looks a little like the one they had as children. The eyes that, in interesting people, almost always say more than words do. The ability to walk into a room without needing to prove that they've entered it.

I'm talking about elegance of character. The sincerity behind their actions. Knowing how to make a mistake and, something considerably less common, how to apologise. Knowing how to command a room without taking space away from anyone else. Curiosity, self-irony and all those little imperfections that, in the end, have far more charm than perfection ever could.

And then, of course, there are the clothes.

The pieces in the first The Sloane collection come from that very same idea: timeless essentials designed to move naturally through a life well lived.

Never excessive.
Never loud.

Because, just like people, I've always thought the most interesting things rarely need to raise their voice.

A wardrobe that moves just as effortlessly from the first coffee of the morning to eight o'clock Martinis. And, preferably, beyond.

The Sloane isn't about special occasions.
It's about real life.

The messages you read three times before replying.
The loves of our twenties.
Ice-cold white wine.
Phone calls made while walking, without really knowing where we're going.
All those little things that, on their own, seem insignificant but, put together, somehow become a personality.

And perhaps Notes from the City will be a little like that too.

We'll talk about clothes, of course. But also about places worth going to, films worth rewatching for the nostalgic ones among us, perfect playlists for getting through the month ahead and entirely unsolicited relationship advice, which is, notoriously, the most entertaining kind to give.

We'll talk about the perfect drink. About why John F. Kennedy Jr. is still one of the most charming men to have ever lived. About the best shirts, which, let's be honest, are almost always the ones found in men's wardrobes.

And, above all, we'll talk about something I consider rather important: in life, just as in fashion, a little irony and the right amount of irreverence can save almost anything.

I'd like The Sloane to be this too.

A place to feel beautiful, of course.

But, above all, to feel like yourself.

With lightness.
Irony.
Confidence.
And perhaps a Martini in hand.

Taking yourself seriously, every now and then, is necessary.

Taking yourself too seriously, on the other hand, has always struck me as terribly inelegant.

Girls, get ready to have some fun.

Welcome to The Sloane!