Stereotypes (part II)

***Continued from Part I***

In part one, we have explored how stereotypes may often be the result of over simplistic analysis and unrealistic fantasies, which are unlikely to be met in real life. In this new chapter, I would like to assess the nature of the Italian men and how they can be categorized. Specifically, we will analyse the Neapolitan men as they are my prime source of observation. Like Neapolitan ice-cream, they come in three flavours: Lo Scugnizzo, il Macho Latino and il Figlio di Papa'. The fist category is what we will call, for ease sake, the "Scugnizzo"literally rendered into English as "Street urchin"; traditionally this term acquires a completely different meaning, however, we shall utilize the word "scugnizzo" to describe a category of Neapolitan men characterized by the following qualities: scugnizzi are incurable 'grown up kids' who generally tend to despise higher education, people in authority and all that law and knowledge encompass. They make a cult of their outward appearance: all of their clothing items are carefully selected in the respect of the latest trends and their hairstyles modelled upon the newest fashion - paying no attention to whether a certain style will suit them or not, neither to if the cost of the item may cause them to go in debt or even steal. Their image is identifiable amongst many: gel hard hair, structured like an engineering master piece (ideally sleek flat side parting and spikes at the back); piercings (generally one diamond on the left year); over-powering after shave fragrance, big labels tops, trousers, shoes, coats. They drive brand new scooters (most likely stolen) and listen to neo-melodic Neapolitan music or techo/house - loud. Tendencies to chauvinism, violence, rudeness, sleaziness and illegality. Expressive and extroverted emotional outbreaks to be expected. However, it is to be highlighted that the "scugnizzi" can be tender lovers, respectful sons and responsible parents, able to live by "honour"...whatever it takes.
The second category is every foreign woman's dream, il Macho Latino, the super hot, perfect body, sexy talking bold, daring and reckless ultimate manly man. Il Macho Latino, like his scugnizzo cousin, places a great deal of attention to his outer persona. Every item of clothing is indeed chosen with maximum attention to detail, tailored like a fitted glove to accentuate and valorize every secret of manly charm. Labels and brands mean very little compared to how something is supposed to make him look. The Macho Latino's, like their Barbie sisters, do not give much importance to their "inner beauty" - they may read about philosophy, history and poetry but that's because, of course, history has proven that it always works to pull. Jewelry is worn like a winning prize, with pride and arrogance, the more the better. The gym becomes a real sanctuary of beauty and beauty parlor's their weekly confessions. The Macho Latinos are witty, handsome, proud, self-confidence yet often lonely, shallow and dissatisfied. Commitment is,for obvious reason, not an ability on the Macho's list. Does it need to be?
Last but definitively not least is the "Figli di Papa'" category, the "Daddy's boys". Life has been fine and dandy for them: they come from a good, often excellent household. They have attended the best schools, lived in the best homes, eaten the most delicate foods, travelled the globe, speak several languages, wear fine clothes, go to university. Their summer attire consists of white linen trousers, striped white and blue shirt, blue pullover over their shoulders, designer trainers, big sunglasses, golden tan, golden Rolex, soft long-ish hair gently blown away by the sweet sea breeze as they sit onto their boat. Characteristics? They have everything, but rarely comprehend the value of what they have. They can be sleezy strong of daddy's money ~ not knowing that money doesn't always buy everything.

Yes, You're Pretty Good Looking (for a girl)

1959 is not only the year my mother was born in. My mother, in fact, shares her birthday with another modern blond icon, the Barbie doll. For all my feminism and strong sense of idealism, I used to love playing with barbies up to the age of 10. I had loads of them and I used to love to mimic their lives as independent career women who magisterially juggled life, work, family and relationships always looking pretty as a picture - invincible, strong, sensitive, intelligent, opinionated, outspoken and beautiful modern women... That is what I aspired to be for most of my childhood and adult life: intelligent, successful, beautiful, always with a smile on my lips and a kind word to say. I am not quite sure on whether I did succeed in that intent, but I can say with confidence that in life I have no regrets because I have always given it my best and my all. Another thing that I am sure of is that I am not cut for fitting into the stereotype of a barbie doll : dumb, hare-brained, hollow and blond. Quite frankly, I am nothing like that and I will never be (not even for the love of a man). Maybe I am the only person who has ever felt like that - I don't expect everyone to understand - but it frustrates the life out of me (strictly speaking) when a. some women allow themselves to be considered as silly barbie girls, mere fashion accessories beside a weak man who expects to look better, cleverer, more macho beside a woman who is only good to look at, talk at, use. b. Men who, for all of their talk, are truly insecure, manipulative, gutless idiots who haven't got the balls to stand up to intelligent members of the opposite sex?! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! That issue really bothers me. In the same hand though I can somehow understand why the postmodern Man may feel emasculated by his contemporary allegedly impeccable bionic women. As most of you know I have been living in Manchester for just over two years. Before I moved here little did I know about the vibrant homosexual community who predominates the city. I have said it before that my encounter with the Mancunian gay community has been a massive eye-opener for my rather traditionalist views. Especially amongst the gay women I noticed a high professionalism, stead-fastness, loyalty and strength at various levels in life. Amongst the gay women I also observed a great sense of loneliness, insecurity, weakness, confusion, disillusionment. Nonetheless, it is interesting to observe how most heterosexual men would judge those women: all they can see in them is their unfailing confidence, like as if they never had a moment of weakness, a care in the world. It takes a truly extraordinary man to love a confident woman and allow her to release the beauty and affection within.
*** The title of the post is the title of a song by The White Stripes***

Thelma & Louise, Cambridge and Hairy Green Men

Dodgy title, alright! It was chosen to make you smile. I am painfully aware of having been a little low recently and 'boring' - as one of my mates said to me last night (thanks, pal). This post, however, would like to celebrate life and all those small sparkles of joy, the little epiphanies which make life interesting. Saturday morning me and Ruth (aka Bolton Fan) ventured on a short "Thelma & Louise" - style adventure to Cambridge. Despite having to get up at 7 am (a ridiculous time for a week-end day), we had a lovely road-trip down south, the sun was shining and our fave music playing in the background (blasting more like it, when any song we really liked came on!) We truly had a great time laughing, eating, drinking, walking and chatting until we dropped (no surprise there really). Ruth is an incredible person and a great friend: people like this and days like this are never to be given for granted. Unfortunately, we didn't pick up any hunky-Brad Pitt-type hitch-hiker on the way. Instead, we had a lovely dinner at a pub by the river called 'The Green Man'. Following a conversation we had been having during the day about the features which make a man attractive to us, Ruth confessed her 'fetish' for corpulent hairy men ("de gustibus non disputandi est", the ancient Romans used to say meaning 'to each their own' - very loosely translated). Coincidentally, I noticed that Hairibo's gummy bears have big hairy bellies (see the effects of e-numbers' overdose on my silly head!) - photographic evidence to follow! - Cut long story short, we had a laugh..all topped off by chocolate and wine in front of the telly. Thanks, Ruthy!

Cambridge, The Mathematical Bridge

The Green Man Pub

Hairy Belly Gummy Bear

What Was Going on Last Night?

7-1 Man Utd vs Roma ... history was made.