Am feeling mildly ill this morning. This is mysterious, because I was feeling a bit yuck on Friday afternoon, and then felt fine all weekend, and now that it's Monday morning... perhaps I'm allergic to my job. Wouldn't surprise me.
Anyway, my sore-ish throat did not deter me from breaking the cardinal rule of The Rules According to People's Grandmothers by emerging from my apartment with wet hair. It's just not that cold (+4 degrees, C) and I really didn't feel like brushing it and blow-drying it and brushing it again just in order to run down the street to the local Standa (supermarket chain) for a few necessities. So I scraped it back into a reasonable looking bun and was on my way.
And proceeded to enjoy all of the trying-to-be-subtle-but-just-not-quite-succeeding looks I got. This was very similar to when it was late October and I was still wearing ballet flats with no stockings while everyone else had gotten out their parkas and gloves.
We all know that the Reggiani are very image-conscious. You don't go out with wet hair, you don't wander about wearing jeans and sneakers (trainers)... in fact, ideally, you don't go out at all unless you and your hair have been manipulated into advanced stages of perfection by one or more professionals.
And it's not that I mind, really. I'm not one of those Americans who strides down the street in my blindingly white sneakers, humming the Star Spangled Banner and thinking to myself that I'm American and I know my rights and I'll wear what I damn well want and just you try looking at me funny! I love Italy, and they clearly have better fashion sense than I do anyway, so I'm more than happy to do a bit of mild conforming. What I wonder, though, is exactly why some things are so shocking. Is it because they honestly think you're likely to contract the plague and die if the top of your head gets a bit chilled? Or is it just simply Not the Done Thing? If I could work up the courage and the linguistic confidence, I'd ask someone. For now... boh.
I'll go dry my hair now.
About Me
Life in Italy... and other places.
An American takes a year post-college (and pre-medical school) to go to Italy and teach English. The year stretches to three... and four... and this blog is a record of small things that get remembered at the end of the day. On occasion, she can also be found in New Jersey or France, the familial homelands.
2 comments:
I advise you to buy Froben spray (that is an anhestetic and antibacterial) for your throat from your nearest pharmacy and never ever go out again with wet hair! :D
Thanks for your advice! I will go look up that spray first thing tomorrow.
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