DINO DINCO : TRUE STORY : A DREAM

Just before I woke up yesterday, I had a dream in which Donatella Versace came to my house to speak with me about her film submission for YOU WEAR IT WELL 2. I’m not making this up and I suspect my dream was triggered by the Indian food I had eaten the night before at a very late hour.

DV surprised me, as I was right in the middle of working on something, and her visit was unannounced, but she was all smiles and hand luggage, so I couldn’t turn her away. I remember thinking, “Is she moving in with me? That can only mean more laundry…”

I asked her if she wanted something to drink and she asked me if I could make her some tea. “Do you have mint?” she asked, “I can’t have any more caffeine today.”

I went into the kitchen and turned on the kettle, rummaging around the coffee and tea shelf to see what I had. At first, I only found a single, black tea bag, so I started to dig around, behind bags of coffee, packages of membrillo and almonds. In the corner, I discovered a single, peppermint tea bag. It had been opened and was covered in dust and bits of ground coffee. “Are you sure you have it?” she asked? “Got it!” I hollered back into the living room, gently wiping off the foreign matter from the bag so as not to tear it.

While I was steeping her tea bag, DV’s stilleto heels came click-clacking into my kitchen. “Dino, have you seen my new swimsuits?” she asked. I said, “No, I’ve been busy.” “It’s okay, I brought them with me. I go try one on for you now.” She disappeared into my bathroom and within a minute, she returned to me wearing a sparkling, metallic sequinned one-piece bathing suit, cut really high up one side of her body and a noisy neckbrace of gold chains.

Her normally straight platinum hair was….curly and enormous. Think Dynasty as a starting point and add some Dolly wigs to the equation. I was waiting for a crew of hair-dressers to emerge but they never did. I kind of laughed at her hair but played it off. “Dino, I brought one for you, too.” I dunked her tea bag a couple of times and looked at the matching swimsuit she held draped across her arm. “Uh….” was all I could muster. “Try it on! Try it on!!” she demanded, “It will bring out your eyes.” “Uhhh…sure,” I said, heading to the bathroom. “No, no. Right here, darling, in front of me.” Ok.

I took off my clothes and her eyes instantly focused on my oversized, pin-striped boxer shorts. “You wear such silly underwear, Dino” she said. “Like you’re a farmer!” I would love to say that in my dream I would have said something colorful like, “Yes, Donatella. I sow the fields of ideas and dreams…” but instead, I said, “You’re retarded. Give me the suit.”

Leaving my agriculturally-minded underwear on, I stepped into the swimsuit, pulling the sparkling straps around my shoulders. Again, she fixated on my underwear area, and frowned a bit. I think she was silently dismayed that my boxers were now mashed and wadded up under what she was hoping for would be smooth, revealing lines. The word “farmer” was written all over her face, even when she said, “You look amazing, darling!” Really? I feel like a sausage that had been rolling through piles of sequins but okay.

I said, “Donatella, can you drive a car?” I stuck my finger into the thigh hole of my swimsuit and pulled it down a bit to be more comfortable. Perhaps my American farmer body wasn’t quite meant for an Italian swimsuit designed for a woman. “Why yes, darling, of course I can drive a car. I have many of them.” She took a sip from her tea, leaving the bag in, which surprised me. I pressed her for more info: “What kind of a car do you drive?” I tried to picture her changing lanes on a Los Angeles freeway, inspiring a 20 car pile up without noticing. She nervously looked to the side and began to stammer, “I drive a….a…it is a motor car with four wheels.” I think I then made a “pssssh” sound and said, “Having a driver and driving a car are two different things. Now, about your film….”

“Yes, darling…”

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