Some people seem to carry several cities inside them. Ludovica, or Lulli, has Bologna, Milan and Paris: the city that made her, the city where she grew up, and the city she always knew she would eventually live in. Her father still reminds her of a photograph taken under the Eiffel Tower when she was little, and the promise she apparently made then that one day she would come back to stay.
When we sit down together, there is dinner being prepared, Erica, her roommate, is there too, and the conversation takes all the little detours that make an evening feel like an evening. We talk about the horror of choreographed proposals on the Seine, dressing for people we like, the strange importance of a good cappuccino, teddy-bear slippers, old friendships, new friendships, the freedom of living alone and the complicated business of finding a place that feels like home.
Lulli is funny, opinionated and wonderfully matter-of-fact about the things she wants. She dreams of a little private boat on the Seine, a proper group of French friends, and one day a family close enough to her own that she can see the people she loves without catching a plane. Most of all, she wants to become someone the younger version of herself would be happy to meet.
This is a conversation about growing up without necessarily becoming less romantic. And, naturally, about tortellini.
LEARNING TO STAND YOUR GROUND
Yasmina: My problem is that even when I’m right, I can’t stand up for myself.
Ludovica: You have to. I always try to. I try, and then if I see that there’s nothing more to be done, I turn on my heels and leave.
Yasmina: Have you always been like that?
Ludovica: Yes. More and more as I’ve grown up. As a child I was much more the opposite. But then again like anything it depends on how I feel that day.
If I’m feeling bad, like everything’s going wrong, then maybe, you see, I’ll be less ‘confident’, you know?
Yasmina: So, without thinking. Three things that can make your day go badly? And three things that can make it go well?
Ludovica: Um...
Yasmina: Just off the top of your head.
DARK LUDO AND THE PERFECT CAPPUCCINO
Ludovica: Good or bad, it depends on my colleagues’ mood. Okay, that’s really work-related, not the amount of work, the people themselves...
Yasmina: The general mood.
Ludovica: Yes, the mood. Because if you even say bonjour to me in a different tone, the day’s already off to a bad start.
I’m usually very zen. I’m always smiling. Even when I shouldn’t be smiling, I smile because otherwise I seriously feel like *********. So even when everything is dark, I try to smile, but obviously I can’t laugh all day. No, of course. So I have moments when, I mean, it’s a bad day for me too.
Yasmina: Of course.
Ludovica: Today, for instance, a colleague says to me, um, everything okay? Me: yes, of course. I was literally very focused on what I was doing. So, with my smile, I was just really focused. He looks at me and says, we don’t like this Dark Ludo. Dark Ludo. I mean, yesterday I felt unwell and that’s why I didn’t talk much. Today I’m concentrating and I’ve got headphones on because otherwise it’s all blah blah blah blah blah blah.
Another one, my day starts terribly if my cappuccino doesn’t turn out right.
Yasmina: You make it yourself.
Ludovica: I make it myself with the machine.
If my cappuccino doesn’t come out right, or if I’m so tired and I spill it, because that’s happened before, I know I’m going to have a bad day.
Yasmina: Okay.
Ludovica: And then, I don’t know, whether I manage to catch public transport on time. Um... When I go out and see the metro has already left.
Yasmina: That can really impact the vibes of your day, yes.
Ludovica: What more? I wake up and it’s sunny, I’m one person. I wake up and it’s raining, I’m another.
I’m a bit affected by the weather.
But those are silly little things.
LULLI’S LITTLE PARIS ADDRESS BOOK
Yasmina: There’s a part of the interview I normally leave until the end, but for some reason I feel like doing it now, because you mentioned a place in Paris. I want to see whether you can name a few other places. I want to make a little Lulli address book.
A café you go to when you need to gossip with a friend.
Ludovica: I’d say Café Hugo.
Yasmina: Your best friend gave exactly the same answer.
Ludovica: It also depends on the time of day. I do more apéros, really.
Yasmina: Okay, the place for an apéro where you want to run into slightly posh people.
Ludovica: I don’t know! You have to tell me, because I haven’t found it yet. I usually end up going out in the 6th, Le Balto...
Yasmina: I think you have to go to the Marais.
Ludovica: I used to go to La Perle a lot. You meet Italians, you meet French people. And there are little bars around there that seem quite popular. It’s a bit like the 16th. We don’t go there as much now.
Yasmina: Somewhere you’d love to be taken on a date. You can choose absolutely anywhere.
Ludovica: I have this dream. It would be beautiful to have one of those little private boats for two on the Seine. Not one of the big tourist boats.
Yasmina: That’s very original, because usually people just give me the name of a restaurant.
Ludovica: But not one of those big boats!
Yasmina: And if you have to buy someone a present, what do you give them and where would you buy it in Paris?
Ludovica: It really depends who the present is for. Maybe something for the house, a candle.
FRENCH MENSWEAR, FASHION ARCHIVES, AND BADLY DRESSED MEN
Yasmina: Lulli, something I discovered about you: you did research on French menswear and sport.
Ludovica: My thesis?
Yasmina: I looked at your LinkedIn!
Ludovica: Oh, is it on there?
Yasmina: Yes, you posted about it. How on earth did you end up choosing that subject?
Ludovica: This was June 2024. It was for my master’s. My French professor taught French for business, but somehow everything she talked about ended up involving fashion. She was brilliant. During my exam she asked me, “Have you found a thesis supervisor yet?” I said no. She said, “Perfect, then I’ll be your supervisor. Now we just have to think of a subject.” She was the one who suggested doing something about fashion. Then she said, “If you want, go to Paris for a month in September or October. Do your research there, and I’ll put you in touch with a colleague of mine.”
Yasmina: And that’s when you worked in the archives at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs?
Ludovica: Exactly. I did the archives there. But really, I ended up spending a month being a tourist, wandering all over Paris, going to every exhibition I could find. Then I wrote my thesis on it.
Yasmina: Was that the beginning of your interest in fashion, or did you just happen upon the subject?
Ludovica: No, I’ve always been interested. I was very happy to work on it, especially because I thought it might be a useful connection for the future. Shame nobody’s ever asked me about it!
Yasmina: I’d love to read your thesis. The truth is, I actually prefer menswear to womenswear.
Ludovica: It’s very interesting.
Yasmina: If you have it, send it to me.
Ludovica: I do. It’s on my computer. You’ll love it.
Yasmina: Do you think men could dress better?
Ludovica: Oh, yes. Yes! I have quite a list of men who could dress better. But lately I see more badly dressed men than badly dressed women. But it also depends on the man. If you’re unbelievably handsome...
Yasmina: How would you describe your own style? Second, how would you describe the style of your ideal man?
Ludovica: Before answering, who wants chicken breast and who wants thighs?
Yasmina: Either is fine, but maybe breast.
Erica: Breast for me too. I love both, though.
Yasmina: I really don’t mind.
Ludovica: So I’m supposed to define my personal style? My clothing style?
Yasmina: Yes. I can’t define mine because I play a different character every day. I have five pairs of ripped jeans, but I also have incredibly elegant blazers. I have hideous T-shirts and beautiful shirts.
Ludovica: Mine depends on the day. And honestly, it also depends a lot on where I am in my menstrual cycle.
Yasmina: That’s interesting. It changes your perception of yourself?
Ludovica: Exactly. On a day when I feel really bloated, even when I’m not, I ignore half my wardrobe. On a day when I feel sexy I go straight to another part of it. I think, “Today I love myself, I’m putting this on.” And then the next day I look at the same thing and think, “What the hell were you wearing?”
Yasmina: That’s why we’re going to look inside your wardrobe later. Erica, what would you say?
Erica: I’d describe Ludo as smart casual. Because of the job she does, she dresses casually, but she’s elegant. I wouldn’t say she’s super elegant every single day, because she wears jeans to work too, but she always looks well dressed, even when she’s casual.
Ludovica: It’s called being Italian.
Erica: That too!
Yasmina: I love that. Say it again for the camera. That was epic.
Ludovica: It’s called being Italian!
DRESSING LIKE YOUR FRIENDS, AND DRESSING FOR SOMEONE
Yasmina: Ludo, what inspires your style? Where does it come from?
Ludovica: I can’t really tell you, because so much of it depends on how things look on me. I see plenty of looks, influencers and things I like on my friends...
Yasmina: Perfect, because that was exactly my next question. I think we all unconsciously borrow things from our friends. What’s something you’ve copied from a friend, and which friend was it?
Ludovica: Something I copied from a friend... I don’t know. I’ll give you a stupid example. Those kitten heels. I criticised them so much, and then suddenly I wanted a pair myself. And I bought them!
Yasmina: I hardly ever wear little heeled sandals. There are women who live in heels, and I genuinely wonder how they do it.
Ludovica: She wears them every day.
Yasmina: Erica, why do you always wear heels? Do they make you feel more confident?
Erica: Exactly. Without them I don’t feel as elongated, as confident in my silhouette. Maybe it’s just in my head, but that’s how I feel. And because of my job I have to dress well, which I like.
Ludovica: When I was little, I imagined adulthood as wearing heels all the time. You’d think, “One day I’ll be twenty-five, I’ll have a job, I’ll be so grown up,” and to me being grown up literally meant living in heels, twenty-four hours a day.
Erica: I used to imagine that too.
Ludovica: Don’t get me wrong, I love heels. But with my job, I’m constantly running around, so heels aren’t always practical.
Yasmina: I have two pairs of sneakers. I’m wearing one now, but it’s an exception. Diana told me recently she’d thrown away practically all her sneakers, and it made me laugh.
Ludovica: That’s hilarious because now she keeps saying she wants sneakers, so if somebody wants to buy her a pair...
Yasmina: Who do you think never gets their style wrong?
Ludovica: I can’t give you one name. Even someone I think always looks perfect might wear something I wouldn’t choose. That doesn’t mean they look bad. It just means it isn’t my taste. So I’d be answering according to what I personally like.
Yasmina: Staying with clothes, here’s an interesting question. Have you ever dressed for someone else? I absolutely have. I’d go somewhere knowing my ex would be there, and I had to look hot.
Ludovica: The ex again!
Yasmina: And then one time he went, “I know you dressed up for me.” And I stopped.
Ludovica: Nobody has ever actually said that to me. But if someone I liked said, “You look beautiful tonight,” inside I would be thinking...
Yasmina: I’ve won.
Ludovica: I’ve won! Of course, if I’m going out and I know someone I’m interested in will be there, I’m not going to turn up wearing a rubbish bag. Though, in the end, the best encounters always happen when your hair is a complete mess and you’re looking your absolute worst.
TEDDY-BEAR SLIPPERS AND OTHER QUESTIONABLE TASTES
Yasmina: Let’s talk about taste. What’s something you absolutely love that’s a little embarrassing?
Ludovica: Something to do?
Yasmina: Anything. An activity, an object, a place, a food.
Ludovica: An embarrassing food? I don’t know.
Yasmina: Right, there’s no such thing, really.
Erica: I’m sure there is something, but I can’t think of anything right now.
Yasmina: I’ll give you an example. I stalk people on Instagram. I look at the ex-girlfriends of guys I’m seeing.
Erica: But that’s such a girl thing to do!
Yasmina: Yes but it is so embarrassing! But it’s because i’m incredibly curious. And maybe a bit obsessive.
Something terrible happened to me once. I was with a guy and wanted to show him something on Instagram, and his ex’s name appeared in my search bar. He saw it and I was like, “No, you saw that wrong. Tu hallucines”
Ludovica: I don’t actually enjoy doing that. If I do it, it means I’m not in a very good place emotionally.
Erica: Always turn it around on him!
Ludovica: Exactly. You always have to turn the situation around.
Yasmina: I don’t particularly like the concept of guilty pleasures. So let me ask it another way: what’s something that other people might think is ugly, but you find beautiful?
Erica: Can I answer? For me, all the ugly animals are beautiful. All the ugly dogs, the ones with long faces and droopy eyes. I find them all beautiful.
Ludovica: I wouldn’t call that a guilty pleasure. I do like strange, slightly trashy things. Sometimes I’ll be with a family member in a shop, see something completely ridiculous that nobody would ever buy, and try to convince them to buy it. Just for fun.
Yasmina: Is there an ugly object you own but absolutely love?
Ludovica: Do slippers count? I have these furry bear slippers.
Yasmina: Ugly! Guys, when you’re twenty-five it’s time to stop wearing furry slippers.
Ludovica: They are ugly, yes!
THE BOLOGNA VERSION OF LULLI
Yasmina: I wonder whether there’s a version of Lulli that exists in Bologna but doesn’t exist in Paris.
Ludovica: I think there is.
Yasmina: What’s she like?
Ludovica: You mentioned Bologna and literally my grandmother just texted me.
See? She feels summoned.
I’m sure the Bologna version of me isn’t as free as the Paris version. And I mean that in silly, everyday ways. Here I live alone. I don’t have to report to anyone. Whether I come home at midnight, three or four in the morning, only Erica knows, and nobody makes a tragedy out of it.
Back home, my parents know that in Bologna very few places are even open after one in the morning. So if I came back really late, especially drunk, they’d naturally ask, “What did you do last night? Who were you with? Where did you go?” And at my age I don’t want to have to answer those questions every time I go out. It’s always the same four people I’ve known since school! And yet they’ll still ask who I’m seeing. I understand it; I would probably do the same. And honestly I miss those parental questions when I’m here.
Yasmina: How often do you go back?
Ludovica: Very rarely. But I was actually thinking of going home next weekend, because I feel like I need home.
Yasmina: Where’s the best place for Sunday lunch in Bologna?
Ludovica: The tennis club.
Yasmina: And somewhere for a romantic dinner? Or breakfast?
Ludovica: I can picture the places, but I can’t remember their names. I haven’t really gone out in Bologna for years. After finishing school I spent five years in Milan for university.
Yasmina: Your whole degree, at Cattolica?
Ludovica: Yes, including my master’s. Then I came back to Bologna and did an internship from January to August, before moving directly to Paris.
PARIS WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAPPEN
Yasmina: Once I was talking to a friend about the idea of a final destination. Is there a city where you can imagine staying for a very long time? Since you moved here, do you feel Paris could be that city, or can you imagine moving somewhere else, maybe even going back?
Ludovica: Paris has always been this little dot in my life. I’ve always known that sooner or later I’d end up here, one way or another. My father sometimes shows me this photograph of myself as a child underneath the Eiffel Tower. He always says, “Do you remember that day?” It was around 2008. He remembers me saying, “One day I’m going to live here.” And now I actually do.
Yasmina: If you can find that photograph, please send it to me. It would be so lovely to include.
Ludovica: I’ve posted it before. My father still remembers me saying that, and I do too.
Yasmina: But would you stay your whole life?
Ludovica: No. I know that one day I’d like to have a family, and I’m very attached to my own family. The idea that my maternal grandparents, who I grew up with, could be in another country, a plane journey away, and that I couldn’t see them every day, I really don’t like that.
Yasmina: So being close to them is important.
Ludovica: Very. Maybe I’ll stay two, three, four more years. I don’t know. It depends. Maybe tomorrow I’ll fall in love with a Frenchman.
Yasmina: Which brings me to a question: French men, yes or no?
Ludovica: Yes!
Yasmina: I’m crazy about them.
Ludovica: They’re attractive. I’d say more yes than no. But it has to be the right sort of commitment. Something casual for one evening, fine, but I want more than that. With an Italian it’s obviously easier, even just the jokes. Sometimes you don’t even have to say anything and the other person already understands. But it depends on who you meet. When you really fall in love, nationality stops mattering so much.
FINDING YOUR OWN PEOPLE
[A private, off-the-record conversation about a period of distance between friends took place here and has been withheld.]
Yasmina: So, how are you doing now?
Ludovica: Apart from the fact that my throat is covered in spots and I’ve been ill, I’m doing well. There are ups and downs, mostly connected to work. But I really like my life in Paris. I like it a lot. Compared with last September, when I first arrived and still felt a bit lost because everything was new, things have changed.
Yasmina: It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?
Ludovica: Just over a year. I arrived at the beginning of September last year. I really feel at home here now.
Yasmina: What makes you feel at home?
Ludovica: The people around me. They’re the ones who make me feel at home. If tomorrow one person said they were leaving, then another, and all my closest people, my pillars, started disappearing, I’d wonder whether I could really see myself living here. I adore Paris. I like my job. But I’m still missing one thing: an actual group of French friends.
Yasmina: You’d like that?
Ludovica: That’s my final little Paris dream. Local friends! I live in Paris; it’s ridiculous that I know about five actual Parisians, apart from my colleagues. Some of my colleagues are friends, we go for apéros, but they’re still colleagues. I want a real group of French friends I can go out and do things with.
Yasmina: It’s not easy. I don’t have a group like that either. I have individual friendships.
Ludovica: But I don’t mean people you’ve spent three seconds talking to. I mean an actual group. French friends who bring me into their circle, and maybe I bring them into my Italian circle, and the two groups merge. A regular Thursday night at the same bar, weekends together, maybe a weekend at someone’s château in the countryside. That’s what I’d love.
THE FRIENDSHIPS THAT STAY, AND THE ONES THAT DON’T
Yasmina: Going back to the idea of drifting apart and friendships, are there friendships you’ve lost? If you could say something to those people today, without naming names, what would it be?
Ludovica: There are different kinds of friendships. The historic ones, the ones with incredibly strong foundations, are untouchable. Maybe we don’t write to each other, or we talk only once a month, or three times in one week. It doesn’t matter. When we see each other again, we pick up exactly where we left off. I adore those friends.
Then there are friendships that seem like the friendship of the century when you live in the same city. You see each other constantly. But as soon as you move away, because I’m here and you’re in Italy or somewhere else, they disappear. I hate having to chase somebody.
Friendship should be fifty-fifty. Sometimes I give seventy and you give thirty, sometimes it’s the other way around. But it cannot always be me chasing you, writing to you, waiting for the message or the reaction that never comes. At some point, for my own sake, I let go.
Yasmina: Do you communicate that, or are you more the type to quietly leave?
Ludovica: Quietly. You realise I’ve left when I’ve already left.
Yasmina: You don’t say, “You really hurt me”?
Ludovica: Sometimes, if they come back and confront me, I’ll explain what bothered me. But over time, especially through romantic drama, I’ve learnt that I don’t have to keep sending apologetic messages, explaining every feeling and chasing after somebody just to keep them beside me. I’m not going to put myself through that again.
Yasmina: So you’re someone with boundaries?
Ludovica: I have a lot of boundaries.
I know my limits. I know what I can tolerate and what I can’t. That’s the rational me. But there’s also the romantic me, the one who hopes until the last possible second that something will change. Say I really like a guy and I want to see him, even for five minutes, just for coffee. And on his side there’s this classic indifference: “I want you, I don’t want you, I want you, I don’t want you.” You’re sitting there thinking, “Just tell me. Yes or no. Don’t leave me hanging.” After a while your rational side says, “Enough.”
Yasmina: Because till that moment you’d been allowing yourself to be humiliated.
Ludovica: Exactly. Those are my limits. I know how far I can go with someone, and then it has to stop, out of respect for myself. I also think about past experiences. There are choices I won’t make now because the sixteen- or eighteen-year-old version of Lulli made them, got hurt, and learnt something from them.
WHAT I WOULD TELL EIGHTEEN-YEAR-OLD LULLI
Yasmina: Let me record this properly because it’s quite an important question. Don’t worry about the camera. Just be spontaneous. What would you say to eighteen-year-old Lulli if you could speak to her today? And what do you think she would want to hear?
Ludovica: First of all, I would give her a really big, tight hug. I’d tell her, “Calm down. Whatever anxiety or worries you have right now, let them go.” As you grow up, things change so much. If I’d known some of the things I know now, I would have lived certain moments more lightly. I’d tell her to be more carefree, more frivolous, to do more stupid things. Because there were times when I thought, “I can’t do that. What will this person think? What will that person say?” Who cares? People will think whatever they want. As long as you feel good about what you do, their opinions don’t matter. And I’d tell her that so many things she thought would never happen, or that she only dreamed might happen one day, are actually happening.
And I’d tell her to enjoy her life. I hope the thirty-year-old version of me would say the same thing to the twenty-five-year-old version.
Yasmina: We’ll do another interview in five years!
Ludovica: We’ll see. At thirty-five I’ll be married...
Yasmina: And I’ll have a child! I love it. It’s such an important question, because when we were eighteen...
Ludovica: I think about it quite a lot when I’m being philosophical with myself. I know the girl I was in high school would be happy with the person I am today. When I make important decisions, like changing jobs or moving cities, I ask myself, “Would little Lulli be happy about this?” And so far, in one way or another, everything I’ve done has brought me here. I live in Paris and I feel good here. So I think, okay, maybe I’m doing something right.
Yasmina: That’s beautiful.
Ludovica: But it depends on the day, because every choice closes some doors too. When I’m having a bad day, I wonder, “What the hell am I doing? Did the choices I made really make sense? Would it have been better to stay in Italy?”
MILAN MADE ME GROW UP
Ludovica: I left Bologna for Milan when I was nineteen, and I felt that change very strongly. I was young, I didn’t know anyone in the first month, my friends from Bologna hadn’t arrived yet, and I felt genuinely alone.
Yasmina: What kind of girl were you in Milan? Different from Paris? Different from Bologna?
Ludovica: I grew up in Milan. When I arrived at nineteen, I was still the little girl from Bologna. Then I had to deal with things on my own and I matured enormously. Milan has my whole heart, because it’s where I grew up as a person. I arrived as a girl who still lived at home, had everything taken care of, and didn’t have any real problems. Then suddenly I had to manage a home and live alone. And then Covid happened, so I went back home for two years. I’d had the brilliant idea of signing up for driving lessons in Milan, convinced I would always be living there. Then Covid arrived and I ended up being the only idiot travelling to Milan while the university was closed, just to take driving lessons. At least the roads were empty, so that was wonderful!
Yasmina: Would you ever live in Milan again?
Ludovica: Yes. I know that one day I’ll go back to Italy, even though I don’t know when. And Milan would be good for work. But for everyday life? No. I don’t like the lifestyle there. Everything is stressful. Milan pushes you towards burnout. Everyone is always rushing as though they have rockets up their asses. Everyone is grumpy. It’s a little like Paris, actually.
Yasmina: What could Milanese people learn from Parisians, and vice versa?
Ludovica: The pace of life feels similar, but here people are calmer. You have that classic French slowness, the “j’arrive,” the “I’ll do it later.” Everything could be falling apart and they still take their time.
Yasmina: That’s very accurate. And now, very quick questions. Don’t think too much.
Ludovica: I’m terrible at those. I once played a game in Barcelona where you weren’t allowed to answer “no.” I lost on the first question, every single time.
QUICK QUESTIONS, DISNEY AND THE SOUNDTRACK TO LULLI
Yasmina: What’s the first thing you notice when you meet someone new, a friend or a potential date? And what’s something you think you have impeccable taste in, something people can reliably ask your opinion about?
Ludovica: It depends. Advice about friendships, maybe. It depends who’s asking me.
Yasmina: “Depends who’s asking me.” I’m taking that. What’s the piece in your wardrobe that’s the most Lulli? You can show it to me later.
Ludovica: I’ll show you afterwards.
Yasmina: One cultural thing, a book, a film or a work of art, that you always need to revisit?
Ludovica: Disney. When I’m really nervous, it gives me a little peace of mind.
Yasmina: Is there one in particular? And you made a very eclectic playlist. Really eclectic.
Ludovica: It contains all my personalities, basically.
Yasmina: Exactly! I was listening and thinking, Taylor Swift, then something completely different. I love that performance of Out of the Woods by the way.
Ludovica: Every year my Spotify Wrapped tells me my music taste is impossible to define. I get very attached to songs, especially romantic songs. I’m a romantic, and I identify with the lyrics. But it also depends completely on my mood.
Yasmina: Imagine we’re in a television series and every time you enter a room, there’s a song playing as your theme music. What would that song be? You can choose from the playlist or anything else.
Ludovica: Let me look at what I sent you.
Yasmina: You sent me an hour and fourteen minutes of music! I listened to it on my way to work two days in a row.
Ludovica: Yes and there’s All Too Well, the ten-minute version, is one I listen to all the time.
Yasmina: Would that be your entrance song?
Ludovica: No, that’s the one for when I’m making pasta! I put it on and sing the entire thing.
Yasmina: It’s gorgeous. Now, when you’ve been away from Paris for a long time, say at Christmas, what’s the first place you want to go when you come back? Not your home. The place you miss.
Ludovica: Along the Seine.
Yasmina: Okay, so that’s your place. For me, I think it would be the Marais. Somewhere I love walking around. What’s an underrated place in Paris?
Ludovica: The 9th arrondissement.
Yasmina: Interesting. Diana said the same thing.
Ludovica: Maybe she influenced me. We went there together!
THE PALOMITA RAPID FIRE
Yasmina: Overdressed or underdressed?
Ludovica: Overdressed.
Yasmina: Plan everything or improvise?
Ludovica: Fifty-fifty.
Yasmina: Dinner for two or dinner for ten?
Ludovica: Dinner for ten.
Yasmina: Phone calls, texts or voice notes?
Ludovica: All three. Mostly voice notes, or writing.
Yasmina: Vintage or new?
Ludovica: New.
Yasmina: White or black?
Ludovica: Black.
Yasmina: Coffee or wine?
Ludovica: Depends. Coffee in the morning, coffee again later, then wine!
Yasmina: Minimalism or maximalism?
Ludovica: Minimalism.
ONE WORD FOR...
Yasmina: One word for Bologna?
Ludovica: Home.
Yasmina: One word for Lulli five years ago?
Ludovica: Strength.
Yasmina: One word for Lulli today?
Ludovica: A little warrior.
Yasmina: One word for me?
Ludovica: I’d say the same.
Yasmina: And your favourite word?
Ludovica: Let me think.
Yasmina: You can tell me afterwards.
Ludovica: Tortellini.
Yasmina: Tortellini?
Ludovica: Tortellini.
Yasmina: Tortellini. Perfect.
AND FOR THE PHOTO EVIDENCE
