One of the world's most unique shopping centers is the Galleria Vittorio Emanuelle II in Milan (yup, still got LOTSA Italian Pow! to dispense).
Built over a 13-year period and finished in 1878 (no typo, that's an 18), the curved iron-and-glass roof is flanked by imposing archways at each entrance, and covers a spectacular mosaic floor. That's it above
No wonder tenants include Gucci, its namesake cafe, the first-ever Prada store, a Borsalino hat shop, and countless other chi-chi spending emporiums.
But tucked amongst these high-falutent neighbors is a tiny bookstore called Libreria Bocca, which first opened its doors in 1775 (still no typo, that's a 17).
The shop, which sells only art books (thus a must stop for yours truly), is unique not because of its long-tail merch mix, but because of its floor...and the floor's origin.
The floor itself if a work of art; many of 'em in fact, as a sheet of industrial-strength plexiglass has been laid over countless "tiles" of 39 x 39 cm paintings and photographs. The works have been subject to two major exhibitions (entitled "Artisti in Cielo e in Terra"), and have become the subject of books themselves.
A cool conversation point, but one borne not just for aesthetic's sake, but for survival's. The survival of Libreria Bocca itself.
All of these works are donated by some of Italy's most notable contemporary artists, cost 500 Euros
and all proceeds go to the store to help it maintain its increasingly incongruent, hard-to-hold-onto spot amongst its high-rent neighbors.
The store's owner, Giacomo Lodetti, is as chipper and wild as you'd expect an Italian artist to be. He actually approached me when he heard me talking English, and asked if I'd write out a sign he could hang in his window that would explain the floor's concept to the throngs of English-speaking tourists flowing by.
I tried to explain to him that his floor should be the focal point of his window, and should be seen from as front by passers by, but there was only so much convincing I could muster with his broken English and my Lonely Planet Italian phrase book.
So the best I could do, I guess, is show it to you, with Giacomo, now that I'm home.
By the way, if you ever happen by the place, and see this most humble of window signs, you can say you know the author (that's both of us below).
