When my family was getting ready to move to the US from Italy, back in the early 80s, my parents took me to celebrate Christmas at the home of a famous Italian writer and journalist, in the countryside of Chianti in Tuscany. We spent a few days there, surrounded by the natural beauty of the place and Oriana Fallaci’s (our host) wit and argumentative spirit. She taught me to drink strong cocktails (I was twelve at the time) in preparation for being “a cool American girl” she said and she thought I’d make a good fashion model because of my thin ankles. She later retracted the statement, saying my imposing nose would not make me a good beauty candidate. Not exactly the perfect role model for a pre-teenage girl, but that’s a whole other blog post for a different day.