Walking down Via Corsa in Rome last week, a man sitting at a cafe called out to me, "Scuzi signora you dropped something back there?" When I looked back, he said, "ah it was your beautiful smile."

Rome and Florence were all about aesthetics. Even the drinking fountains seemed to be designed more for looks than for actually dispensing clean drinking water. The men and women followed suit. I unknowingly bought a pair of Armani sunglasses. I found out they were designer when I was out with Alessandro, an Italian carbenieri. He brought out his Armani sunglasses and we compared them. Luckily by this time I was becoming accustomed to knowing less about fashion than my Italian boyfriends. One night in Florence I left my hotel to meet Enrico for dinner. When I got outside into the piazza, he was across the street, leaning on his scooter. He had changed into his dinner jacket, a new shirt and designer jeans and I noticed his Dolce & Gabanna belt buckle. It was cute but sort of sad that he was wearing a $1000 dollars worth of clothes but did not own a computer. In Milano, my friend Francesco was describing another man, "He is nice but he wears such ugly ties."

Of the three grown men, two still lived at home with their mamas. I was dying to meet an authentic Italian mamma, but neither boy found me good enough to introduce to mama. In Alessandro's case, he gave me a kiss outside his house, and then ran upstairs to talk to his mom and change into his dinner outfit while I had to sit in the car and wait.

It took me about close to two hours to get ready every morning, even without a hairdryer, which I blew up early on in my trip. In Rome, to have men follow you with their eyes or their comments, is less of a threatening insult, and more of a nod of approval for a job well-done. And it makes sense in a city that had more billboards of beautiful women than helpful street signs.