“Clara, do you think it’s possible to be nostalgic for times we’ve never lived?”

Let’s call it Midday in la dolce vita, this short film: a dream without logic, a bit like all dreams, mine more than others.

A daydream under the dazzling July sun.

The venue? A drive-in cinema, we serve fresh cherries and steal kisses that taste of amaro on the rocks. And so…

Gourmode art direction and… action!

I imagine myself lost in a limbo between the Riviera and the Italian East Coast… and I’m on the usual beach, the one of the sand castles of the 90s summers, I shoot my film with an old camera inside a wooden cabin, the lens emerges shyly from a window in the shape of a starfish.

The sand-colored images are quickly imprinted on the film, one after the other.

And an imperial table is magically set in front of my eyes.

White and blue lounge chairs, feet in salt water and emeralds for breakfast.

Ginori’s service is unmatched, the apricots roll on the plate, among the coffee stains on the grandmother’s tablecloth a two of spades and a king of hearts peep out.

Rotisserie chicken and cola with ice and lemon… is the menu of the season.

From Moor’s heads explode riots of lavender and golden wheat.

Arrigo serves up a plate of iconic Baked Tagliolini.

Basilico and Fellini whirls in the air.

Under the umbrella, Mrs. Gentile in mink fur devours buffalo mozzarellas.

– “Elio, pass me the peaches!”

– “Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine.”

The lawyer watches the time on his iconic Patek Philippe fastened to the cuff of his shirt:

– “I used to go to Capri when the countesses were whores, now that whores are countesses I don’t enjoy it anymore.”

And we set the time further back.

Tom entertains the room by singing My funny Valentine and a trickle of sweat runs down his forehead.

And it’s all a crossing of legs from right to left, from left to right, like a synchronized swimming team in a mini skirt: Anita Ekberg, ready to jump into the hot fountain, and then Monica Vitti, Brigitte Bardot, Jackie Kennedy, Claudia Cardinale, Jane Birkin, Sophia Loren, all lined up by the pool with a blue flowered swimming cap.

In the Blu dipinto di blu.

Jep lights a cigarette in the dancing crowd.

“I was destined to be a writer”.

And will it be my destiny too? I don’t know, maybe my heart is a Fior di Fragola ice cream, bought at Gigi’s kiosk, which melts softly in the sun. And you know it. Only you know.

 They say it’s cliché time, but sooner or later the adventures will return.

La dolce vita, la bella malinconia.

Happy Italian summer with gourmode!

Clara