Lake Como: White Linen on Blue Water

The jacket isn't an outfit; it's a temperature, a way of holding the light.
There is a particular hour on Como when the water turns the colour of pewter and the hills go soft at the edges. It is an hour that asks very little of a wardrobe and rewards restraint completely. White linen, worn open, is less a choice than a kind of agreement with the place.
We cut our travel linen with a high-twist yarn so it holds a line through a long lunch and a longer boat ride. It will crease, of course — linen always does — but it creases the way good paper folds, with intention rather than collapse.
Pack two: one ecru for the day, one stone for the evening turn. Everything else on the trip can be quiet around them.


