Among the more perplexing trendlets we’ve scrolled past this year is “rawdogging,” the act of denying oneself all forms of entertainment for the length of a long-haul flight. No books or games or movies or naps for our rawdoggers; instead, the guys—always guys, only guys—stare straight ahead at the flight map or the seat back of the person in front of them, spending the whole time lost either in thought or in search of a good one. As with all trendlets, there’s no way of knowing whether it’s real or just six goobers on TikTok with the same dumb idea. But it gained traction because it feels real. In a year when guys tried to out-guy one another via Cybertruck purchases and diss tracks, isn’t it more plausible than ever that they’d try to one-up each other at nothing?
Relax, try-hards, and try harder. If you’re going minimalist, go all the way. Rawdog the whole trip. Go somewhere new, with no plans, no guidebook, and—this is the key ingredient—no companions. If you do this in a foreign country whose language you do not speak, all the better. Solo travel, in an unfamiliar place and with an empty itinerary, is more extreme. It is much rawer. And it is delicious.
Apparently, we’re already doing it. Sixty-nine per cent of Americans planned to take a trip by themselves this year, according to an American Express survey. The number goes up to 76 per cent for millennials and Gen Z, which suggests younger people are more comfortable in their own company or else they are more unpleasant to be around. I have found both to be true!
Either way, I believe in solo travel with the zeal of the convert.
My conversion happened this summer in Italy, a place I had only seen over and over and over again on my Instagram feed. For years, it seemed like everyone went to Italy in the summer, and it was time for me to be everyone. As luck would have it, Gruppo Montenegro, a food and spirits company, invited me to tour its amaro distilleries in Bologna and Venice. It was all the excuse I needed. After the official business ended, I extended the trip five days.
When I touched down in Bologna, it hit me that I’d done nothing to give those five days any structure. I hadn’t picked out a town to hole up in, much less a room. I hadn’t learnt any words in Italian, including those for hello, help, and Italy. I hadn’t hit up my colleagues for good restaurants to try, and I work at Esquire magazine.
The official part of the trip was packed with activities, all of which, like everything in Italy, involved wine and snacks and Select Spritzes. When it wrapped up, I was in Venice, just me and my bag with nowhere to put ourselves. I stranded myself. And I liked the way it felt.
I hadn’t picked out a town to hole up in, much less a room. I hadn’t learned any words in Italian, including those for hello, help, and Italy. I hadn’t hit up my colleagues for good restaurants to try.
I’d had a grand and vague plan to rent a car and go into the mountains, or to hop on a train and find a small seaside village to make my own, but Venice was already in front of me, dense with art and architecture and history (and snacks and spritzes), so why not stay? I rented an Airbnb in the relatively quiet neighbourhood of Cannaregio and rawdogged Venice, with nothing on the agenda but my own whims.
So I followed them. I wandered, alone. The thing about Venice is that it is so tightly packed that you don’t really see the sights until you’re right on top of them. You turn a corner and the Rialto Bridge jumps out at you. You take a left off the footbridge over the canal and a massive medieval cathedral full of Renaissance art takes you by surprise. And you are always within arm’s reach of wine and snacks. It is a barrage of beautiful sights, sounds and smells, and I immediately understood how my dog feels whenever he sticks his head out my passenger-side window.
The urge to talk to people became overwhelming, particularly after a few lunchtime proseccos. I admit I broke from the ways of the rawdogger by making ample use of the iPhone Translate app, which is how I learnt that Italian is a language with an extremely high percentage of words that are fun to say. Italian could have stopped at “Ciao!” and secured a top-three finish in this category, but it did not. “Costruzione!” I shouted upon seeing a construction site. “Ospedale!” I bellowed as I passed the hospital across from the cemetery. “Sto imparando l’Italiano moltooooolentamenteeeee!” I enthused, surely the most triumphant reading of the statement “I am learning Italian very slowly” that any of my waiters and bartenders had ever heard. Honestly, I got on my own nerves this way only three or four times.
According to that American Express survey, two thirds of solo travellers planned their trips around self-care. There is no self-care like being on your own, in a place where you know no one, where a conversation with another person is impossible unless they only want you to shout “Construction!” at them. The conversation moves inward. You decide for yourself how you feel about Piazza San Marco or Canova’s tomb or the 12th little plate of ham you just ate. When there’s nobody to talk to, you learn to recognise the sound of your own voice.
The answers you seek within your soul aren’t in the seat back. They’re out on the streets of a place you’ve never been. They’re in the overheard snippets of rat-a-tat conversation in a language you cannot understand. If you are in Italy, they’re in spritzes and snacks. They’re in the simple act of maximum self-care: answering for yourself the question “What do I want to do with this day?”
Rawdog your next trip. But don’t be a weirdo: Bring a book for the flight.
Originally published on Esquire US
You'd probably find it odd holding a Bvlgari Aluminium for the first time. You heft it in your hands, unsure of its weight. It’s undeniably metal, but the light, cool, matte aluminium feels unlike any watch you’ve encountered. Then there is the rubber bracelet, each supple piece of rubber linking to the next, softly swivelling on partially exposed joints. You can’t quite put a finger on its design either—is it a sporty watch? Contemporary? You'd wager it’d look equally at home paired with a suit though. The Bvlgari Aluminium is complex, avant-garde even, but it’s a haute horlogerie affair, and this one is unmistakably Bvlgari.
It’s 1998, Bvlgari, a titan of luxury, just revealed its latest collection—a luxury watch line made from two heretical materials: aluminium, a material typically relegated to soda cans, and, well, rubber. It was a defiant move that sent shockwaves rippling through the realm of haute horlogerie. Little did Bvlgari know, this one step would propel the brand into the future, and it was dragging the entire watchmaking industry along with it, whether they liked it or not. Just ask what Apple thinks of aluminium watches.
Having received acclaim as an iconic watch at the Grand Prix d'Horlogerie de Genève 2020, Bvlgari finally took its celebrated timepiece out of its award case and unveiled the second generation in the same year. The Bvlgari Aluminium returns in 2024 with three new models—a black GMT model, an emerald green chronograph, and a white automatic version—and they’re arriving with upgrades.
While each differs in capabilities, all three variations share a hallmark: the unabashed “BVLGARI • BVLGARI” signature carved around the 40mm watch face—its stirring arrogance inspired by the names of past Roman emperors stamped on coins, subdued by the black velvety surface of the rubber bezel. Born out of FKM rubber—a notoriously durable material in watchmaking—its bracelet features rectangular rubber blocks held together by pivoting aluminium links. This ensures a perfect drape on your wrist, providing an airy feel absent in most rubber straps while eliminating that clingy grip on sportier days. Though powered by different calibres, all three watches have a power reserve of 42 hours and water resistance of 100m.
As the only watch widely available in the collection, the Bvlgari Aluminium Black GMT builds upon its predecessors by introducing a Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) function, flaunting its capacity for dual-time zone capabilities. This serves as a homage to the inception of the Bvlgari Aluminium when it was brazenly printed onto the fuselage of an Alitalia Boeing 747, which, of course, shared a material common between them: aluminium. Speaking of which, Bvlgari has developed an alloy of aluminium designed to be more durable than the original 1998 collection. Set against an off-white dial, the black hands with luminous sword ends stretch towards the indices surrounded by a colour-coded GMT function with red representing day and black for night. Nestled deeper lies the Calibre B192, a self-winding mechanical movement that allows adjustments for seconds, minutes, hours, GMT hands, and the date to be made through the watch’s single crown.
In a nod to its Italian heritage, the limited-edition Chronograph Smeraldo draws inspiration from the alluring island of Capri. The name of the game is la dolce vita: picture yourself at the heart of Capri, wading in the turquoise water of the Marina Grande. The sand, so fine it feels like powdered sugar squishing between your toes. As you venture deeper, the water deepens just enough to lap at your calves. The water shimmering like shattered gemstones, an impossible emerald so vivid it seems to hold the entire sky itself captive. Here, you feel only the sun on your skin, the cool embrace of the water, and you let the breeze carry your soul into the ocean.
This scene is brought to life in the Chronograph Smeraldo that’s limited to just 1,000 pieces. Now, let’s talk design. Dark green dominates here, unifying the bezel and rubber bracelet to form a cohesive theme. Dark green hands sweep across a gradient dial, transitioning from white to turquoise—a reflection of the Capri coastline. The chronograph counters echo the same palette, hammering home the elegance and essence of an Italian summer. Just as the sun's energy fuels life on Earth, the automatic B130 mechanical movement powers the chronograph and date function of the watch. An engraving of the compass rose adorns the aluminium caseback, ready to rest flush against skin.
The White Automatic completes the 2024 Bvlgari Aluminium trilogy, embodying a blend of minimalist elegance and unflinching boldness, while capturing whispers of the Colosseum’s grandeur all at once. Perhaps the most striking piece in the collection, this limited edition watch evokes the spirit of '90s Bvlgari being draped in all white, mirroring the brand’s audacity back in 1998 during its initial release. The inspiration from ancient Roman coins is magnified by a sleek, one-toned aluminium white dial, creating an honest canvas that complements the splash of red added by the seconds hand. Rhodium-plated indexes and hands treated with Super-LumiNova® only add to the grandeur. Legibility is close to perfection with this timepiece, featuring the classic Bvlgari touch of a 12 and 6, and a clean date display at 3 o’clock. The White Automatic owes its soul to the Calibre B77, the reliable automatic mechanical movement that energised its predecessors.
From the functionality of the Black GMT to the Italian charm of the Chronograph Smeraldo and the minimalist Roman grandeur of the White Automatic, each Bvlgari Aluminium is a conversation starter. On its own, it's a watch that serves as a statement, a bold declaration that luxury can be redefined, that elegance can be found in the unexpected. But on your wrist, it’s a watch that not only speaks for itself as a symbol of supreme confidence in one's own artistry, but also one that undoubtedly screams Bvlgari, Bvlgari.
