There is no question that Italians have their own sense of style. As an American, I seem to have been left out when it comes to being fashionable, and I've been reminded of that by my landlord. More than once, I've gotten a little bit of a lecture from him on the topic of my fashion, or lack thereof!
My blue jeans seem to be particularly offensive to him. My favorite Faded Glory jeans, hauled over the Atlantic to their new home in Venice, just don't make the cut, evidently. It's more than obvious when I walk down the street that I am a foreigner, I don't even have to open my mouth.
My landlord doesn't sugar coat the situation one bit. I love the conversations we have about my clothes, they usually go something like this:
(When reading this, try to find your best Sopranos accent, or think of Father Guido Sarducci! That will give you just the right idea of how this sounds in real life over here, with my landlord using his very best English!)
Landlord: "You-a must trow all your-a clothes in the bag, Karen"
Landlord: "The blu jeans-a dat you wear-a are-a no gooood-a".
Me: " Why?"
Landlord: " It is the time for you to dress-a like-a the Italian. The blu jeans-a must-a be on your-a skeen very tight. "
Me: " I don't know, I still have clothes I brought with me that are in good shape, I can't go buy a whole new wardrobe."
Landlord: "NOOOO! But-a you-a must! No more wit-a dees-a baggy pants-a for you. Please, now, you go shopping. Trow every-ting a-way-a now. "
As much as I really want to fit in, I'm not quite ready for a big shopping expedition, or to get rid of everything I brought over with me. Maybe next season!