I have been living in Milan for two months now and I think I've sussed how to do it. Humour my attempt, but I've been paying close attention to the well dressed casual busy bodies of Italy and I've decided to make a post on how to become an efficient and stereotypical Italian. The rules apply mainly to females, but they can be translated for men likewise.
First of all, you have to live in monochrome. Pretend you are in the
middle of a 1920's black and white film and dress to blend in. Everybody here
owns a leather jacket, black boots, black jeans and a striped shirt. The only
pop of colour is your red rouge lipstick.
You have to wear your sunglasses indoors. On the metro, in the cafe,
walking around the stores...the only time you take your sunglasses off is to
try another pair on.
Minimal makeup is required, the Italians are very au-natural when it comes to beauty - olive skin, dark curly hair, long eyelashes and brown eyes - perhaps a foundation and mascara is subtle enough, it certainly makes me feel like a layer cake.
Of course you have to smoke. Not out of pleasure or need but purely because you are an artistic, bohemian socialite defying the laws of beauty with your grungy habit. But you have to learn how to smoke it like an Italian, flick of the wrist and that.
Your preferred method of transport is a vintage Vespa scooter or a cream
bicycle with a woven basket on the front. Full of tomatoes or flowers or
something.
Styling is effortless for an Italian. Think
tailored, neutral palettes, boxy/baggy silhouettes and accessorise with a
designer handbag and a printed scarf. Possibly something belonging to renowned
Italian fashion house Dolce & Gabbana. If like me your budget doesn't quite
cut £400+ for a handbag then fear not, the streets are laced with our favourite
genuine-fakes.
Classically you must drink wine. Unknown to myself
however, is that Italy is famous for its coffee. Everybody here drinks coffee.
If you don’t like coffee then you pretend you do.
Olives are served with everything and like marmite you either love them or hate them. In
nice traditional restaurants they bring you a bowl of olives with every
drink and the waiters seem highly offended when I refuse them, so I think I
have to accept that they now play an important role in my everyday life whether
I like it or not. Much like an arranged marriage.
Italian men wear their heart on their Armani suit
sleeve - no emotion is left unspoken, as my friends and I have discovered the
hard way. Some random guy told me he loved me at the bar in a club the other
night, now I don't know about local females but English women may expect a few
dates, a marriage proposal, a death bed perhaps...before they expect to hear
those three words. We are in the 21st century now people; we are not fictional
characters in a romantic Shakespearean play.
Ok, Italians definitely do not know how to party
like us Brits. You walk into a club and around the sides of the room there is
what I like to call 'The lingerers' which is about 90% of the club population.
The Lingerers stand with a beverage in one hand and their other hand in their
pocket bobbing their heads slightly to the music and trying to eye up the fun
10% of the club who are fearlessly rocking out on the dance floor. This 10% of
the club is of course the REALLY drunk Italians, and the foreigners i.e. me.
The Lingerers watch over the oblivious drunkards in an attempt to seek out the
weakest of the herd and make a quick, competitive move before the others swoop
in and take their picking...it must be like watching a crazy wildlife
documentary, except David Attenborough has been replaced with a quirky young DJ
shouting THROW YOUR HANDS UP.
One final observation; this came as a bit of a
shock to us sun-loving short-wearing English folk, but it appears almost formidable
to show a bit of skin. Now we all know that as soon as our thermometer creeps
up a few degrees us Brits like to make the most of it...so living in a country
where most days its 20 degrees we find ourselves jacketless and missing those
extra few inches of fabric one would deem as appropriate in Italy. Apparently
crop tops and skorts are worthy of disrespectful glares and finger pointing but
at least we’ll be travelling the metro sweat patch free!
So to recap, you have to wear a lot of leather,
never remove your shades, smoke a trillion cigarettes, confess your undying
love to complete strangers, ride a Vespa, drink unlimited amounts of coffee and
dance with as little enthusiasm as possible. You are now well on your way to
becoming a stereotypical Italian. Well done you.
DISCLAIMER: You do have to take these observations
with a pinch of salt, I have met some lovely locals who do in fact enjoy a moon
walk across the dance floor.
