Colours

January 16, 2005 · Filed Under Italy · Comment

Italy, as is very well known, is home to some of the greatest clothes designers in the world, Armani, Versace and Dolce and Gabbana to name but a few. I am no dedicated follower of fashion, but I do like clothes. I'm not mad about them, but looking good sometimes, makes me feel better about myself. Italians are very good at this looking good thing and could possibly teach the world a thing or too, if only all those non-Italians could make head or tail of the rules which govern good dress sense here. I'm going to attempt to explain how it works, at least with regard to colours. Back in the UK, I never really paid any attention to mixing and matching colours and to be honest had a limited wardrobe, partly due to the fact that I could not find good quality interesting clothes at down to earth prices. I remember coming across Malboro Classics in London many years ago and being happy that I could find jeans in colours other than the ubiquitous blue, albeit many shades of blue, but blue nonetheless. Jeans are in the main, blue, apart from good old black 501s, which used to be a favourite of mine. Blue is not a bad colour, but it's nice to stand out from the madding crowd sometimes.

Anyway, back to the Italian colour code. In general, one should wear no more than two, or possibly three colours, now by colours, Italians mean primary ones, not shades of, er, blue, for example. However, it gets a little bit more complex, seeing at it is not considered acceptable to mix certain colours. Black and blue should never be see in public together, so keep those bruises hidden everybody. With regard to the other acceptable and not so acceptable colour combinations, I have to plead ignorance. It has been explained to me, well, my other half did have a go, but I found the whole thing so mind bogglingly complex, that I had forgotten all the rules within a few minutes. Now, I simply cheat, and ask whether the clothes I'm wearing would make me stand out from the crowd and be labelled as an obvious foreignor or take a wild chance and dress as I feel like. In which case I can get things sort of right, if I try. You can wear, as I said previously, up to three colours. Though two, I am reliably informed is more likely to create the required effect. To get things, sort of , OK, I follow the simple rule of choosing clothes with three colours, not exactly knowing whether these colours can really be displayed together and then find other garments with a different shade of one of the three main colours. As a rule this seems to work, although If I want the effect to be truly Italian, I do check with my, Italian, better half, before making any public appearances, such as going down to the supermarket, or the bar, places where appearance can make the world of difference, er, not. (Well, that is not exactly right with regard to the bar, where one does want to be seen looking one's best because you never know just who you might meet).

I have noticed that lots of younger women here like to play it safe and go around dressed predominantly in black or grey, with a few dashes of white. They do look good, and I like black, but its not exactly the most vibrant colour in the universe. Colours here are often, dare I say this, a little drab and not really very attractive. The black dressed woman thing does indicate a slight lack of originality, though, or maybe they too have problems getting their heads round which colours create the right symbiotic relationship.

There it is, hopefully I've explained the rules with regard to colours in a reasonably comprehensible fashion. As for the colours which can and are definately not allowed to be seen in close proximity to one another, I apologise for my ignorance. Should a reader who happens across this entry know more than myself on this subject, I would be more than happy to listen. Might even learn something too. You never know.

One final anecdote before I bring this text to its end. Once one Italian told me how a friend of her family, who I think was a professor at a university, or an lawyer or something, went out for a quick walk dressed in, of all things jeans and a tee-shirt. This happened in Venice, by the way, but I'm not sure how long ago and things may be different now, but I would not bank on this seeing as things change at an almost inexcoreably slow pace here. Now you will be asking me to get to the point, and I will, sorry about the dithering. Well, this chap was stopped by some friend or acquaintance who had a distinctly concerned look on his face. The jeans and tee shirt chap was asked how things were going and upon giving the reply that everything was just fine, was greeted by a look of relief. It transpired that the way in which he was dressed, jeans etc, had given the impression that he had fallen on very hard times, poor thing. This is how much clothes matter here, although it has to be said that any one of us may question why a normally well dressed friend turns up looking relatively scruffy one day, but we would probably suspect that he or she had been up to something in the house or garden which did not merit good clothes. I'm not sure that, UK or even US people would some so swiftly to the conclusion that financial or other bad fortune was the cause for a lack of sartorial elegance.

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Tags: Italian, Italy

Fancy a drink?

January 16, 2005 · Filed Under Italian Food · Comment

In what now seems like the distant past, I went out. At the end of a hard, or even an easy day here, I could be found knocking back a few exotic looking cocktails, with equally exotic looking names. Now, these evening meetings where often organised quite simply: you either saw or called somebody during the day and either they or you suggested going out at some time, that evening or some other evening. Then you just suggested a time and a place and that was that. All rather easy and a trusted system very similar to that I had always employed to good effect in the UK.

In Italy, things are, as you may expect by now, done differently. We are, as you will know, in the age of the mobile phone. We can send people pictures, text messages (SMSs here), email them, or even simply call them. Italians are big into mobile phones and they are used extensively for social purposes, so when they want to arrange a night out with their friends, they call and arrange to meet them somewhere. What is strange in that? You may well ask. Nothing really, except that the meeting place is usually a car park, in front of some shop or other, or on a street corner. They never ever seem to do the logical thing of going to the pub directly. However, it becomes a little wierder, once they all turn up at the chosen meeting spot, reasonably promptly in Italian terms, they then spend up to two hours deciding where to go, well not only deciding, debating, with all sorts of reasons being given as to why this place is OK, but that place isn't. I remember watching and listening and feeling rather bemused. Eventually, agreement over the nights destination will be reached and everyone jumps in their cars, (all of them come in separate cars) and off they go to the acceptable spot.

It turns out that the initial meeting points have been used ever since the people meeting up there were first old enough to go out. This means that these mini-debates have been going on for years. Why they can't pop on down to a previously agreed local and carry out the whole discussion process there, over a drink, is absolutely beyond me. Italians do seem to be complicated by nature. Don't know why exactly. Could it be the climate, the water or the food?

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Tags: Italian, Italy

How to Wash Up, Italian Style

January 16, 2005 · Filed Under Culture · 2 Comments

The subject of this small and insignificant entry is going to be washing up. A strange subject for a blog post, you may well think, and I would agree with you, as it’s one of those run of the mill everyday simple things in life that nobody every really considers. I mean, who would think that there could be different washing up techniques around the world? I didn’t, at least I didn’t before I came to Italy.

Back in the UK I was never what you could call the most efficient or enthusiastic washer upper, but then who is?

My ‘technique’, if you can call it that, would involve simply squeezing some Fairy liquid into a bowl, filling said bowl with hot water and, well, er, washing the dishes and leaving them to dry on the draining board. The washing up skill is something that I had picked up through a combination of close observation and on the job experience. I would add that I would only become involved in said process if I had been unable to escape from the house, lock myself in the loo, or I had not managed to come up with some other devious little excuse for avoiding this odious little chore.

What I never really expected was to have to learn a whole new way of washing up in Italy.

Here, more often than not, one does not use a plastic bowl, and the fairly liquid equivalent ( Fairy liquid is not sold in Italy) is squirted into a glass, into which hot water is duly added. Said washing of those dirty plates, unclean pots and pans, and other soiled items then proceeds in the following manner:

Dab your washing thingy, one of those green plastic abrasive squares, the name of which escapes me, into the soap and water mixture.
Then proceed to scrub the dirty stuff off. Oh, and I forgot to mention, you should leave the hot tap running while you are doing this.
Next, you rinse each newly washed item individually under the running cold tap, and place it in the draining cupboard which usually drips over the kitchen sink.

Being of a curious nature, I once inquired as to the reasoning behind this, what was for me, curious, washing up technique, and was duly informed, by my Italian other half that washing the dishes and rinsing them in this way means that your food will not end up with a strange and unusual soapy flavour. Now, I can never recall having eaten soapy tasting food back in the UK.

I believe this washing up technique is common throughout Italy, with minor regional variations, of course.

If anyone out there considers that my observation is complete and utter tosh, then I would be obliged if they would tell me so, and I would be even more grateful if they could also inform me as to the existence of any other notable washing up techniques they have come across.

Maybe we could all combine our ideas and end up writing a world wide best seller on the subject. Otherwise just ignore my blatherings and go and do something more useful instead. Like dusting, for example.

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