La barbe de rêves

Sorry for the delay mes amis. While I was off eating mountains of tzatziki sauce in Greece, someone broke into our place and thieved my computer, therefore my entire photo stash of redbeards. Through email sleuthing, and scouring my iPhone, I think I've rounded up most of them, but ugh, rude as fuck. To make up for my absence, I'll come at you with a tremendously brilliant redbeard. 

I don't know his name, but I believe he's dating-ish my ladyfriend James. She texted this after they face-masked together, and I was beyond impressed. He has a rugged mountain man look about him. The type of man that would usually scoff at the idea of skin care. His tats are intriguing, his eyes are kind, and his beard a deep, passionate rouge. You go James, for finding this luscious creature. Never let him shave that beard.



As you may have noticed, I've been making all my post titles in French or Franglish. It's because I can say very simple, caveman-esque things, but it then sounds lovely. Also it's good practice for me. Maybe one day this entire blog will be in French. Ha, but not really because my French is horrendous. I felt the need to point this out, because the above title is not in fact French, but Italian. I know I should stick to my theme, but the word "barbarossa" is too gorgeous to be denied. I also thought about doing my titles in the language of the country where the featured redbeard resides, but that would just get complicated. What if I go to Russia?

Back to the purpose of the post, which is this charming, Italian redbeard. So last June, my husband Max and I went to Paris to find an apartment. Max's mother leads a study abroad program in Italy, that my mother took part in, so both our moms were abroad. After we picked an apartment, we headed southward to meet the moms in Siena. Twice a year, in July and August, Siena hosts a badass, no holds barred horse race called the Palio that pits its 'contradas' (basically the different city districts) against each other. It is wild. People are shoving each other off their horses, brawling in the street, trying to sabotage each other's horses before the race, crying, kissing, etc. If a married couple are from different contradas, one of them literally moves out during the Palio days, it's rivalry like I've never seen. 

Well like any city-wide celebration, it was a clusterfuck, the streets of this tiny, medieval town just stuffed with people. Yet amidst the chaos, I found a redbeard. I didn't ask if I could take this shot, I just took it. He was shoving past in his U2 shirt and the moment was ripe. I also like the woman over his shoulder wearing aviators and a mean face.