italiafile

Italians are obsessed with logos. At the moment, anything written in English is ‘cool’, and I mean anything. Of course, in the south where there is less money, you don’t see much Paul Smith or Tommy Hilfigger. In Naples, the designer of choice is Calvin Klein, because, I was assured by a shop-owner in Florence, CK is the cheapest designer label. Of course if you intend to buy CK it’s better to buy it in a shop with an English name and here Naples excels. “Insupportable”, was one of my favourites, as was “Car Park”, though that was eclipsed by “Men at Working” and the incredibly trendy ‘Gutteridge and Co’ Actually this last shop was on the Via Toledo, and was Naples’ answer to Simpsons of Piccadilly. The frontage was pure Selfridges, with the content of the window being Daks, and men’s sports jackets and slacks. Needless to say when the temperature is 36 degrees there is an endless supply of young Italians staring through the glass at a nice check tweed, or a moleskin trouser, but few can afford what would be in the bargain bin at the Savoy Tailors Guild. It is a sadness then that Gutteridge and Co is no more... Although the frontage remains it now houses the Neapolitan version of Gap, Alcott which sells very cheap things in bright colours.

But a handful of years ago in Italy, you couldn’t shift for the amount of young men wearing Leonardo di Caprio on their chests. Now, back home, any self respecting young lad about town, wearing a Titanic T shirt down to the pub on a Friday evening may be the subject of a few remarks or a glass in the face. In Italy it was a positive babe magnet. Well, I suppose it gave the girl something to look at while she was being suffocated by being clutched to a lads chest during the ‘standing by the vespa looking cool and desirable’ part of the evening.

It was on the Via Toledo that my amusing logo competition took a sinister turn, and I had to slightly alter the rules. Remembering that in the south most people neither read nor speak English, so the translation, or indeed the basic meaning of some of the slogans on T shirts is a little suspect. Someone should do some homework and find out which phrases are not a good idea for plastering all over your body.

I was strangely drawn into one shop, the Italian answer to Fenwicks, for the purposes of having a gander along the rails of swimming trunks. Having lost a fair bit of weight, I was thinking that I might treat myself to a pair of the incredibly well cut swimming shorts the lads wear, until I realised that they are cut for people who are very short in the drop (as we professionals say), i.e. those of us who cant wear 501’s cos we’re gangly buggers, can’t wear nice swimming trunks either, but that’s all by the by by) – I was having a look at the trunks, and being Italy there is an extensive range. The 1950’s style, Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity, big trunk is back with a vengeance, and I noticed a rather natty black pair which I plucked out only to see the legend ‘Rent Boy’ embroidered in gold onto the seat. Now I think someone should be told, possibly using electricity and pointed objects, that it’s not a good idea to sell swimming trunks that say “I’m a whore” all over the arse, no matter how amusing I find it.

Now I had a whole new direction in life and I have become obsessed with finding the most outrageous slogan I can find on a piece of clothing. Of course the labels themselves are equally entertaining. As a window shopper of renown, I was pleased to discover a make of swimming trunk called ‘hard uomo’ – but slightly concerned when the model on the box obviously took the maker’s name at their word. Either that, or these trunks have a lot of internal padding, but not the words ‘Rent Boy’ which seems to be a missed opportunity