Last night I went out for an aperitivo, to celebrate FfI’s birthday.

She chose to have it at the Armani Hotel, near the centre of Milan.

They’ve taken months and months building this hotel on top of their superstore (although I understand the correct term is now ‘flagship’ store).

It’s plush, of course. And chic, I suppose. And, I expect, expensive.

We are in the bar. Or, maybe it’s the lounge. It has a ‘smoking room’ – which is, actually, a smoking corridor. Still, smoking permitted nonetheless.

Everything is creamy leather. The ceiling is several stories above me. The huge windows have, as their background, the Duomo – all lit up and looking beautiful. It seems like a posh-hotel bar and could, in fact, be anywhere in the world.

I was the first to arrive (after FfI). We sat and chatted. Eventually, just as I was getting a bit fed up with waiting for something to drink and thinking of going to the bar, someone came to take my order. I ordered. There were about 4 serving staff who were anything but rushed off their feet. And one barman, who seemed busy.

After about 20 minutes, FfI’s boyfriend arrived with his son and girlfriend. Then some friends. More drinks were ordered. I was still waiting for my drink.

Then FfI’s daughter arrived with her friend. The drinks arrived. I’d been waiting for about 40 minutes.

Nibbles had been served on several occasions whilst awaiting drinks. They were OK. All nouvelle cuisine and no substance, really.

To be honest, however much it cost, it was a waste of money. Appearance is everything at these places. Poor service is tolerated because, let’s be frank, you’re not really there for the drinks but rather to be seen.

Go, if you’re a fan of Armani. Go somewhere else if you want an enjoyable time and getting your order within about 20 minutes. In fact, go anywhere else.