On Loss and Writing

Plus a glimpse of what to expect from September newsletter and an invitation to discover my cabinet of curiosities

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This edition is a sporadic one. Occasionally, I will send a newsletter with personal thoughts, an excerpt of the following newsletter and some recommendations.

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As far as I can remember, September always smelt like the pages of new notebooks and books. More than New Year's Eve, 'la rentrée' as we call it in France, has always felt like starting a new chapter. I'm not too fond of resolutions, but I love new beginnings. 'La rentrée' for me never meant to make a list of things I would commit to do, but rather a period to start afresh and write my own story. That is probably why I (un)consciously chose September to start Le Journal Curioso officially. 

So, why am I writing to you in mid-August? I pressed 'publish' on my first newsletter in July because I struggled with writer's block. The end of 2021 marked the loss of an ex-lover that meant a lot in my life and was part of it for a decade. To cope, I wrote about our bond everywhere, in stories on Instagram, in my diary, on my phone notes, on my computer, and before I realised it, I had written a whole book. But then, when the time came to review and bind it to gift it to his family, I couldn't get myself to do it. I began writing about our bond to keep him alive, but now I was coming to the end of that process; he had become a memory. And the thought was unbearable.  

For a decade, M. appeared in my diary constantly. I wrote about him, us, how he made me feel, and everything he told me. I found entire transcriptions of our conversations in my diary and computer. In Google Photos, there were still screenshots of our WhatsApp conversations and pictures he sent me when we started dating. It comforted me as I erased our WhatsApp conversation in a fit of rage - M. had a knack for making me feel very contrasting emotions - so I lost the last years of talks we had together. Incidentally, we've never been so close than in the previous three years of his life. The last time I saw M., we had lunch together; he gifted me pictures he took of me and hugged me as if he didn't want me to go. M. hugs always felt like a thousand words of love. After I watched him go into his car this particular day, I felt a pang of sorrow that I quickly brushed off because I took for granted we'll see each other again like we always did for the past eleven years. But little did I know that was our last hug. M. passed a month day for day after this last meeting.

M. was a multitalented artist. I met him as a photographer and discovered later he was an amazing musician. This is a picture of me he took in my then-home in Bologna.

Writing has always been cathartic to me. I always wrote for myself first and foremost, but after nearing the end of that book, I was unable to write for myself. Instead, I focused on writing for work and forced myself to think I enjoyed it until I realised I couldn't do it anymore. It took me a while to understand, but I didn't open my diary once to write for myself for a year. I always get inspired when there is a balance between writing for myself and doing it for work, but this balance has disappeared. Not journaling for a year impacted my professional writing. I didn't understand why I felt frustrated when I sat in front of my computer, especially for something that was usually a joy to do, and then making sentences became harder and harder. I couldn't explain it. When I stumbled upon Substack for the first time, it made me enthusiastic, but I still felt frustrated because I couldn't write. That explains why it took me two years to start Le Journal Curioso, and it also explains why I pressed that 'publish' button in July and why I am now here in mid-August writing again. I missed writing. 

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Next time in Le Journal Curioso…

CEO, Designer, Head of Marketing, Editor-in-Chief, Stylist, Buyer, Fashion Editor, Photographer, Art Director, PR etc. These are the roles fashion media enjoy discussing because they either have to do with power, glamour, or both. My work, instead, doesn’t involve any of those two things. For the fashion industry, people working in localisation are often the least of its worries, yet we are needed.

[…]

When I started working in the industry ten years ago, they didn't call what I do localisation. My job was under the umbrella of the editorial department. I was a Product Writer for the French market for Mytheresa, the most prominent German fashion luxury e-retailer. My team included three product writers, a fashion copy editor and a sub-editor. As product writers, our job consisted of describing the clothes that went online every week; the copy editor worked on the homepage and email copy, brand bios, and PR communications; the sub-editor reviewed the work of the product writers and copy editor. Nothing has changed when I think about the team's structure, but it is wild to me now to think we didn't translate from the English copy. Instead, each team wrote their product descriptions in English, Italian, French, Arabic, and German. It is unimaginable today because of the volume of collections (meaning more items to describe) and the speed everything needs to go. If now the customer expects to find newness daily, ten years ago, they expected weekly new arrivals.

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The cabinet of curiosities

1. Substack has become my favourite platform to peruse and, rightly because of that; I would like to recommend some interesting reading I have done here:

• khensani
  , the pen behind
  Hanger Management
  wrote an insightful piece on why no one wants to buy local fashion in South Africa. It was an informative piece about the historical and political context in which the country’s fashion industry evolved. Another great piece I enjoyed reading was the interview with Closet Runway founders Ange-Nicole Mahoro and Evelina Nailenge. Luxury clothing rental is not new, but I found very eye-opening the points made about renting larger sizes, a topic that I haven’t seen tackled yet, and the challenges encountered renting African brands, big or small.

• Ex-editor of Elle and Cosmopolitan and current Head of Writer Partnerships for Substack UK,

  Farrah Storr
  , writes a fantastic newsletter called Things Worth Knowing. Lastly, she wrote an essay entitled The house I left behind in which she tells about her return to Manchester to visit her sick father and how that trip reminded her of a city and a time that is no more. It made me emotional as I thought about my last trip to my hometown and how I felt about it. Farrah Storr and I don't share the same story and background, but I found it amazing how her memories triggered my own. 

• As a linguist, I am always fascinated by words in different languages that are impossible to translate because they encapsulate a whole concept or way of life. That is why I am devouring Untranslateable, a newsletter written by

  Kristin’s Substack
  that dives into untranslateable words. Reading her essay on how untranslatable words have connected [her] to [her] mother made me want to write about my relationship with my two mother tongues that I, unfortunately, don’t speak. Ewodi and Douala are two languages I’d say I feel more than I understand, so learning them again is difficult.

2. I live in Italy, so I am fascinated by the country's culture and History. In my previous newsletter, I wrote that fashion was woven into the country's DNA; but I might as well add that so was hospitality. Exactly when the Italian fashion industry was being built, so was the concept of 'dolce vita' through luxurious hotels. To learn more about this side of Italian luxury History, I listened to Marie-Louise Sciò - CEO and creative director of the Tuscany-based Il Pellicano Hotel - on The Inspirati podcast and Antonio Sersale - CEO of Positano's Hotel Le Sirenuse - on The Grand Tourist podcast. Some of you here are Italians, so don't hesitate to enlighten me more about Italy from the 50s to the 70s. 

3. I subscribed again to Netflix after almost three years without it just to watch The Witcher, which I binge-watched. But I was blown away by the Japanese series Sanctuary which depicts the story of the rebellious and cocky youth Kyoshi Oze in the Sumo world. The title sequence is amazingly directed and contrasts with the ruthless story of the aspiring Rikishi (sumo wrestler). I watched in awe despite finding many characters unlikeable, even distasteful; Kyoshi Oze included. But still, there is beauty and humour in this series. It was a nice dive into this Japanese martial art and a portrayal of a Japan we have yet to learn about in Occident. 

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