Just one more objection to write on Mr. Berlusconi’s book of complains: what happened to the male taste for dressing? Italians, particularly in the South, were a mix of:
- bad-boy: tattoos seem to be growing on every single body and cheaper by the dozen, no matter if that kind of ‘art’ really fit with their personalities and body types;
- “backstreet boy”: short yet over-produced haircuts, with over-produced hair styles, with over-over-over loads of gel, and some small diamond on one ear, or on both; and
- fashionista of doubtful inclination: cropped pants in deep purple linen? Or a mature guy dressed from head to toes in electric blue, I mean, even his Gucci-like suede shoes and his sunglasses were in that color?! Or how about wearing those rectangular designer bags, either hugging their torso in diagonal or hugging their waist, on top of their belts? How about wearing a plastic bracelet in bright colors, with a holographic sticker? These bracelets are not an overlook from playing with their daughters or nieces, are not a leftover from last night’s party or last weekend’s all-inclusive. They are proudly flagged arguing they help to balance your energy. Even those who confess do not feel any change in their energy levels and they laugh at the predicament, they continue wearing them!
If you know me, you know I have no problem with any particular style, and you have probably seen me hanging out with quite an array of different characters. Also, I consider I have my eye somehow trained for provocation and teasing, particularly having lived for longer or shorter periods in places like Toronto, San Francisco and South Beach. Italy proved me wrong. There is always room for surprises.
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