Milan ... still the height of fashion

Sarah Hartley and her mother explore the chic boutiques of the Italian city on a blissfully relaxed shopping break

THAT colour is the colour of now,’ says my mother, as she points to bright orange blossom on a stroll through dazzling gardens. We’ve been in Milan only a few hours but have immersed ourselves wholly in the fashion scene – and can pick out the shade popping up on shoes, bags and dresses.

There’s something comforting about a shopping trip abroad where the sole purpose is to fall in love with beautiful things and buy them – without the click of a mouse. Throw in precious time with your mother and instantly it’s a more spoiling experience.

Italy’s second city feels less epic than Paris; marry that with the innate refinement and elegance of the Milanese of every age to make it a gentler place to explore, more relaxing somehow. Post-pandemic, neither of us fancy jostling crowds or browsing stores alongside sharp-elbowed tourists. Armed with a map of designer boutiques, we decide we can easily cover the fashion district in a day or two, with stops for an aperitivo and lunch.

We start at the iconic department store Rinascente, for an amuse-bouche of exciting designers. You can hold up a Gucci dress for size or feel the weight of an Armani jacket.

Shoes of every shape and colour beckon at each corner.

We break for lunch in the conservatory of the Lu bar, by the gallery of modern art and the garden of the palace Villa Belgiojoso Bonapart. Then we stroll arm in arm past the Versailles planters of pink camellia on Via Della Spiga and Via Monte Napoleone.

The streets are filled with designer boutiques – Prada, Missoni, Versace – which are, surprisingly, welcoming to browsers. Only one queue spotted, for Loro Piana, where a navy and white sweater costs more than £1,000. Big names aside, luxury vintage can be found too at Madame Pauline Vintage and Cavalli e Nastri. Of the little boutiques, the hardest to resist is La Double J – with its rails of geometric-print silk dresses.

Milan is having a hotel moment, with luxury hotels Baglioni and Cipriani joining the Four Seasons and Armani.

We stay at Portrait Milano, which opened in late 2022 and is an oasis of calm in the heart of the fashion quarter. The former 16th Century seminary had been shuttered for 30 years. Still owned by the church, it is now leased to the Ferragamo family as the largest in their Lungarno hotel collection.

We take tea on the terrace, served by firstrate staff (who even brought my mother some fresh ginger to chew as she fought a cough) before indulging in sublime peoplewatching, prosecco in hand. Of course, we expect Italian women to be beautiful but it is the men, as ever, who astound. Well into white-hair territory, no matter their status, they bristle in pristine clothes, shoes highly polished. We sigh.

Inside the hotel, designer Michele Bonan has worked three colours: the red of Milan and ecclesiastical robes, cream and black. Dark wood, textured leather and modern upholstery nods to the hotel’s previous life.

Breakfast is a buffet of fine patisserie and charcuterie with strong coffee. At night, the cool bar is a social magnet (but not loud) and hosts the city’s elite.

Our suite contains a living space, dressing room, bathroom and bedroom. There’s also a wooden terrace, hidden from view, with loungers perfect for secluded sunbathing. Dinner has to be at Da Giacomo, a landmark of Milanese food and hospitality. Expect heavy white tablecloths, a fine wine list and traditional menu. Fresh anchovies are followed by seafood gnocchi and Amalfi lemon and saffron risotto. We don’t manage pudding, but the night before, the Milanese tiramisu (without the sponge) at the hotel was sensational.

Make like a Milanese for Sunday lunch at Osteria del Binari, a traditional trattoria, or up the sophistication (and bill) at La Briciola. Seafood-lovers should head to Langosteria, considered Milan’s best fish restaurant.

A final – and some might say essential – treat is the add-on of a greeter at Gatwick, with whom we cut through the crowds.

‘Be more Milan,’ my mother instructs me, wafting through without worry.