
I’m an award-winning writer and author.I’m also an American-Italian dual citizen.
I grew up in New Jersey with grandparents who immigrated from Italy to America for a better life, and carried with them the traditions and recipes of their homeland. In other words, my childhood was steeped in red sauce and Catholic guilt.
In 2016, I was lucky enough to study abroad in Venice, where I spent four months living above the best pastry shop in the city (fight me!) and learning about the art history of that magical place. The experience inspired me to seek dual-citizenship, a six-year process that acquainted me with the sheer absurdity of Italian bureaucracy, but yielded my shiny red passport in 2022.
In 2025, I finally leapt into life abroad, making a new home in the very fashionable (and very queer) metropolis of Milan.
Finocchio is a place dedicated to liberating queer people through the power of art, community and storytelling.
With each edition of Finocchio, I share wholesome and horny stories about my life abroad. I tell tales from my deliciously queer life here, including naughty nights out and heartfelt moments in between. It’s got the heart of “Eat, Pray, Love,” and the heat of “Queer as Folk.”
Along the way, I aim to inspire and help you live the unapologetically queer life of your dreams, too.
Ah yes, I’m glad you asked.
Finocchio is the Italian word for fennel (yes, the vegetable), but it has a cheeky double-meaning. In Italian slang, finocchio can also serve as an insult akin to f*ggot.
Oddly enough, I grew up hearing this word all the time, not because it was being thrown around as an insult, but because my family often served finocchio at the dinner table, and I always loved it.
So here I am, grasping this lovely little word for both of its meanings: As an ode to one of my favorite vegetables, and as a reclamation of a slur I intend to imbue with pride.