Pity us poor Italian men, said Andrea, my barber in Rome, as he gave me my new
year haircut. The other customers nodded. “Listen,” said one as he leafed
through Corriere dello Sport and waited his turn. “We are all men
here, I can be frank. Our women have become independent-minded, they all go
out to work, they don’t cook so much any more, we have to look after
ourselves. We are second-class citizens.”
Now wait, I said. What about Fabio Capello? Not only did he take over the
England football squad yesterday, he is a fine example of Italian manhood:
elegant, sharply dressed, supremely confident, a born winner. He even likes
modern art. “Well, quite,” said another customer.
To the outside world, and not least to Brits, Capello looks like an Italian
New Man, a new breed of Italian male. He is happily married to Laura, his
wife of 40 years, has no dalliances on the side – at least, not as far as
British tabloids have been able to discover – likes Bach and jazz, reads
philosophy, goes to Mass, spends his holidays exploring archaeological ruins
in Tibet or Colombia instead of chatting up women on the beach, collects
Kand-inskys and Chagalls and cultivates Rome’s modern artists. A far cry,
then, from the unscrupulous Lotharios of old. But a welcome advance and a
sign of the times?
It does not look quite like that to many Italian men. They have a sneaking
admiration for old-style Casanovas – men such as Silvio Berlusconi, a
self-made businessman with a buccaneering style that has involved him in
several brushes with the law (which he usually wins), a penchant for risqué
jokes and an eye for the ladies, to the chagrin of Veronica, his stunningly
beautiful wife, a former actress. Or Marcello Mastroianni, the actor with
matinée-idol looks who made an art of appearing debonair, louche and
charming.
But Berlusconi is 71 and Mastroianni is dead, along with the dolce vita
era that he embodied in Federi-co Fellini’s films. Many Italian men feel
sorry for themselves in 21st-cen-tury Italy – browbeaten, overworked and
underpaid. Even the famous Latin lover is exposed as a myth: one medical
congress in Rome heard that six out of ten Italian women claimed to be
“sexually dissatisfied” with their husbands, partners or lovers, according
to a survey.
Chiara Simonelli, a sexologist at Rome University Hospital, says: “On the
basis of my clinical experience, I can say that these statistics are
inferior to reality.” She claims to know of many women in their thirties and
forties who were opting for celibacy “in despair”.
Claudio Cricelli, the president of the conference, says that sexual
frustration often leads to hypochondria, nervous problems and tension,
adding that it was also probably one reason why Italy has such a low birth
rate.
Another survey suggests that Italian men have even lost the art of picking up
women – including foreign tourists – at beach resorts or in bars and
pavement cafés. “Death of the gigolo” ran one headline.
And yet, underneath the gloom and self-pity, many Italian men still nurture an
image of themselves as effortlessly superior beings who are born to run the
world and to be admired for making a bella figura. And the reason is
simple: their mothers tell them so.
While more Italian women are making careers and scoring belated victories for
feminism, they are also — as mammas — doting on their male offspring in the
way they always have. Take Capello’s widowed mother, Evelina Tortul, who
told reporters when her son’s appointment as England manager was announced
that she was “worried about my boy”, even though he is 61 and she is 85.
The media, she said at the modest flat in Pieris, near the Slovenian border,
where she brought up her son and his sister Bianca, were “fine when you are
winning, but when you lose they cut your throat. I’m his mother, so that is
going to make me unhappy.” She added: “I wanted him to stay in Italy. He’s a
big boy, he’s old enough to make his own decisions. But your mamma is always
your mamma. Fabio was such a good boy . . . he comes here every summer and
it’s always lovely to see him.”
Hardly surprising, then, that Italy’s “mamma’s boys” still think, in their
heart of hearts, that they are God’s gift to women. About a third of Italian
males, indeed, live at home until the age of at least 30, enjoying Mamma’s
home comforts. Even when they marry, their wives know that their
mothers-in-law are usually not far away and still have a powerful hold on
their “big boys”.
As for feminism, every Italian newsstand is festooned with 2008 calendars
depicting naked models and “showgirls”, who can also be seen on TV variety
shows every night wearing not much more. No political correctness there,
then.
According to Emma Bonino, the former European Commissioner and now Minister
for International Trade and European Affairs, 11 per cent of Italian Members
of Parliament are women, which is much the same proportion as 30 years ago.
Not only that, she says, but although it is true that more women go out to
work, it is often part-time because there are few crèches for younger
children and because older children have to be brought home by someone when
school ends at lunchtime.
That someone, inevitably, is mamma. It is invariably the women who “make
sacrifices” to ease the strains of daily life, Bonino says. So the lot of
the Italian man is perhaps not so bad, after all — and the advent of the
Italian New Man may still be some way off.
How Italian is your man?
1. After lunch, does he drink
a) a cappuccino
b) a camomile tea
c) an espresso macchiato
2. When driving on the autostrada, does he
a) Bowl along in the middle, occasionally veering without warning into
the overtaking lane
b) Edge tentatively into the slow lane and remain there unless
absolutely necessary
c) Weave expertly through traffic, driving very close behind anyone
doing less that 90mph in the fast lane and flashing his lights until they
pull over
3. At what age did he leave home?
a) 18
b) 28 (but only after his mother put her foot down about the washing)
c) Hey, what’s the hurry?
4. Does he regard a scooter as
a) A bit infantile but nevertheless quite fun at weekends
b) A cheap and efficient way to avoid the London congestion charge
c) An instrument of extreme manliness, especially when revved
excessively at traffic lights and with its exhaust modified so as to make an
ear-splitting noise
5. How many man-bags does he own
a) One (and it’s more of a briefcase, really)
b) None. No way
c) 17 (and that’s just from his autumn/winter collection)
6. Does he wear his jumper
a) Over his shirt
b) Around his waist
c) Tied jauntily, at an angle, over his shoulders
7. How many cashmere items does he own?
a) A few, mostly presents from you
b) 325 (not counting the socks)
c) One, moth-eaten
8. What kind of pants does he wear?
a) Crumpled boxer shorts
b) Very tight, white Y-fronts, bought and lovingly ironed by his mother
c) Stylish designer ones
9. Does he wear a vest?
a) Only in the height of winter
b) All year round, including August (you can never be too careful)
c) As soon as the temperature drops below 10C
10. When skiing, does he
a) Launch himself out of helicopters, power through the powder and
generally behave like a teenager on heat
b) Materialise, unsmiling in an all-in-one, at the top of the blackest
mogul run he can find before descending, skis glued together, in a
bum-wiggling display of prowess
c) Join the queue at the ski school and head out with a group of
six-year-olds
11. On the beach, does he emerge from beneath his towel wearing
a) Sand-bleached surfer-dude shorts
b) Tight black Speedos
c) Slightly small and slightly elderly swimming trunks
12. At weekends, he helps out with the children by
a) Drafting in his mother (or, worse, his terrifying spinster sister)
b) Taking them for a pizza while you treat yourself to a nice massage
c) Remembering a very pressing business meeting that can take place
only at the football stadium and is likely to last for at least four hours.
Ciao . . .
Answers
Answers: 1 a:1 point, b:2, c:3; 2 a:2, b:1, c:3; 3 a:1, b:2, c:3; 4 a: 2, b:1,
c:3; 5 a: 2, b:1, c:3; 6 a: 1, b:2, c:3; 7 a: 2, b:3, c:1; 8 a: 1, b:3, c:2;
9 a: 1, b:3, c:2; 10 a: 2, b:3, c:1; 11 a: 2, b:3, c:1; 12 a: 2, b:1, c:3
If you scored 15 or under
Your man is not very Italian at all, is he? Perhaps he’s Swedish? No? Oh well,
never mind. He may not rake in millions from babysitting spoilt football
players, but at least he knows how to change a nappy.
15-20
Your man is distinctly al dente, but in a good way. Stylish, full of life,
loyal, a little bit excitable — all the best things about being Italian.
Maybe a little too fond of his Mamma, but there’s nothing wrong with that.
Watch out that he doesn’t start to slide, though: if he starts doing things
like tucking his napkin into his shirt, put your foot down.
20-plus
You’ve got yourself a proper Mamma's boy. There’s not a lot you can do about
it while the sainted parent still walks this earth, so the best thing to do
is get her on side. Swap depilation tips, share recipes (remember: hers are
always superior). Keep your friends close, keep your mother-in-law even
closer, as the Italians say . . .
