Today’s bag snoop comes via FASHION‘s latest and greatest new addition, features editor Elio Iannacci. Since joining the team last month, he has already broken bread with Sophia Loren, Iris Apfel and Rufus Wainwright, to name a few, and contributed to our overall fabulousness by well, just being himself. From the photos in this gallery, it looks like Elio carries all of his belongings with him to the office every day. Let’s go inside for the full scoop.
I found this leather bag in Italy last year in a local leather goods market in Florence, a place I used to call home when I was an exchange student. I bought it from a Tuscan named Augustino—who crafted the bag himself and handed it over to me like it was his infant. He ended the sale by telling me to fill it with things that mean a great deal to me. This has made me a little superstitious (/paranoid) about what I travel with.
My reading diet consists of 3–5 magazines a day (I have subscriptions to <em>Vogue</em>, <em>Out</em>, <em>Entertainment Weekly</em>, <em>The New Yorker</em>, <em>The Economist</em>, <em>The Advocate</em>, <em>Broken Pencil</em> and <em>Interview</em>) and I typically keep a pound or two of poetry books, chap books, short story collections and lit anthologies with me at all times. I like to give away books as well and typically have an extra gift copy of <em>Lunch Poems</em> by Frank O’Hara or James Baldwin’s <em>Jimmy’s Blues</em> on me at all times. I’m a huge fan of New York’s <em>Popshot</em> mag, any pocket book published by City Lights and I just got into <em>The Pilot Project</em>, an illustrated literary digest from Canada that publishes emerging writers and art fanatics.
I carry USB keys with me at all times. They contain some of my fiction, poetry and a draft of whatever article I’m working on. The keys also represent my infamous tech meltdown of 2003, when my computer exploded and almost erased my whole life. A fashion hoodlum named <strong>Marc Jacobs</strong> designed my wallet. The toy turtle I am schlepping around town is named <strong>Chaka Khan</strong> (after the singer). He was a birthday gift to my partner but since Stan is on a business trip, I have sole custody. (We are not dog people.) York Peppermint Patties mean a great deal to me.
I record most of the singer-actor-author-artist interviews I conduct with an old school Sony TCM-150 Cassette Recorder. This thing has lived a million lives as I’ve had it for nearly 15 years. <strong>Grace Jones licked it</strong>, <strong>Erykah Badu</strong> sang to it, <strong>Lady Gaga</strong> threatened to throw it on the floor. It got quite the workout for the May issue of <em>FASHION</em> as I interviewed <strong>Sophia Loren</strong>, <strong>Rufus Wainwright</strong>, <strong>Twiggy</strong> and <strong>Yoko Ono</strong> with it. My iPhone is boring in comparison (except for my <em>WWD</em> and <strong>Lana Del Rey</strong> apps) and my iPod has 43,627 songs so I don’t know how much longer it has to live.
I fight jet lag ugliness and post-club-concert-film-fest fatigue with <strong>Yves Saint Laurent</strong> L’Homme’s Touche Éclat. My day scent is <strong>Marc Jacobs’</strong> Bang Bang eau de toilette—it’s a lemon, sandalwood and cashmere blend. My sunglasses are a vintage find from an antiques market in Sandwich, Illinois (yes, there is a U.S. city named Sandwich). They are gold-tinted because that is how I wish to see the world.