La Bella Figura

Perhaps this is a foreign concept to you, perhaps it's not. 'La Bella Figura' is one of the most interesting facets of Italian culture that I've witnessed and yes, also attempted to adopt into my own life. It's really presented me with an interesting conundrum, but not a new one. Women for millenia have struggled with the same question, from the first woman who decided that wearing mastadon fir could be a fashion statement as well as a survival essential to those idiots in Victorian England who squished their organs into porridge trying to cut themselves in half with corsets to basically the entire state of California and the resulting thriving plastic surgery industry. The question: are looks really that important?

The answer: DUH! Seriously, in our society, one of the only ways women manage to make a blip on what is taught as history is through fashion. But this is not the place to get into that, so I won't. The point is: of COURSE looks are important. We'd all dress like Midwesterners if they weren't. Just kidding, Michigan!

For the Italians, though, appearances aren't just important. No, they're essential. To keep them up is basically the reason we exist. Now, that might be hyperbolizing just a tad, but think about it. What do you immediately think of when you think of Italy? You think of art, certainly, right? Is there anything more beautiful or pleasant to look at than a good piece of art? Right. There's not. And the Italians have been raised on this stuff. There's beautiful art literally sitting in the middle of piazzas here. You can close your eyes, spin around three times and walk in some random direction, and guaranteed, within ten steps you'll have hit something aesthetically pleasing and historically important. Trust me, I've tried this.

So the Italians have this desire to make basically everything as aesthetically pleasing as possible. It's in their blood. If they're serving you pig intestines (as they're wont to do in Rome, so you have to be careful), they're calling it trippa with their stupid, musical R sound that foreigners just can't do and serving it to you with such rustic elegance and simplicity that you'll forget what its function was just a few days ago. If you're walking through the supermercata pulling a jar of Nutella here, a box of pasta there, you can just bet that there's some girl who is dressed to the nines like no Meijer employee you've ever seen coming around after you and straightening the lines on the shelves again. People make a big show of interacting with everyone else with a confidence that often comes off as downright bitchy. The thing is, though: the Italians treat everyday life as though it were an opera. Emotions are meant to be felt strongly and articulated with the complete confidence that one is in the right. Think Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird mixed with the most enthusiastic orchestra conductor you've ever seen. That's basically la bella figura.

Conclusion: it's an attitude much more than it's a tangible style. Though that's certainly part of it. The Italians aren't as palpably judgy as I hear the French are on this subject (I made sure to bring only my trendy Euro-clothes with me to Paris, so as to avoid that sniff of disapproval), I think they take it more as a matter of course that you're going to want to look your best to take out the garbage or run to the store. They give you the benefit of the doubt, which means, of course, that if you don't, you're going to just look really dumb next to everyone else who DID make the effort this morning. Way to go, you silly americana.

Here's how la bella figura functions in everyday life, at least for me: you wake up, wash your face and brush the teeth, put on enough make-up to make yourself look put-together and, well, made-up, run your fingers through the wild tangle of curls that I had the remarkable foresight to procure before coming here, without even knowing how in moda that was, put on your clothes, which are, of course, colorful or accented by some interesting jewelry or pashmina, apply chap-stick to make your lips look softer and shinier without being too obvious that you thought about making your lips look softer and shinier, put some girl-power music on the iPod and walk out of your apartment like you own the world. That was a long sentence. It takes a lot less time in real life, since you get used to it pretty darn quick.

Fashion is very important in Italy. Maybe you've heard of Gucci, Dolce & Gabanna, Fendi... but most people aren't walking around looking like those ridiculous runway models. Nope. They're walking around looking ridiculous without any help from the runways, since for the Italians, style often means looking like you got dressed in the dark. At least color-wise. This is a phenomenon in which the Italians wear these really odd color combos (like... mustard and terra cotta orange and navy) and still manage to rock it. If I tried this, I'd be laughed off the continent. If they're not playing color-roulette, the Italians are wearing violet/plum, which, in case you're one of those poor souls who doesn't live in continental Europe (sarcasm here), is The Color. It's everywhere. Try to find a store that doesn't have an entire purple section. You can't. Which is nice, since I like the color, and it's an easy way to look like you know what you're doing.

Americans would tend to think, with all this emphasis on how you present yourself, that there would be a huge consumer culture here. Well, if there is, it's the tourists who are doing all the consuming. Romans (I don't know if I can speak for the rest of Italia, since the country is so localized in culture, but I think this is pretty much the same everywhere) do not spend a lot of money on clothing. They buy a few really basic, good-quality items and then supplement their wardrobes with trendy pieces that make them look completely with it.

The concept of 'shopping' as we understand it doesn't exist here, unless you're in the UCB right by the Trevi fountain... which is, I venture a guess, more like being in a mall in Novi on Black Friday than in Rome. This is because the Italians go into stores knowing what they need to be in style. They buy that thing. And they leave. There's not a whole lot of dithering about if it's useful or will I wear it or all the other nonsense that's part of shopping culture in the States, because they know it's going to be useful, and of course they're going to wear it... that's why they're buying it.

Is this a healthy way to look at things? That's an extremely complicated question. On the one hand, it's nice that the Italians aren't so hung up on consuming for the sake of consumption. Their take on fashion is more measured, less hysterical and fetishized, than it's become in the States. On the other hand, the reason it's more measured and deliberate is because there's basically only one style, with little variation, to which everyone conforms. On the street, no one looks exactly the same, but you'll begin to notice a pattern as to what constitutes la moda.

Basically, you conform or... that's really it. You conform. There's not a whole lot of variety, and people know what they want to buy only because they buy what they need to look like everyone else. Now, on the whole, they come off as pretty wacky-looking if you're not used to the colors and the big hair and the bigger attitude, but it's all the same kind of wacky. Is this a problem? Really, it depends on what your biggest hang-up is. Is individuality more important than responsible consumerism? Or is it more important to guard against becoming one of those horrible mall-girl cliches maxing out Daddy's credit card than to guard against becoming an unthinking fashion sheep in a purple puffy coat. That's hyperbolizing a bit, but you get my point.

I don't actually mind either way, since me trying to fit in here is like trying to teach cats to walk in a parade; it's ineffectual and dumb. I'm an americana, and in spite of my big hair and newly developed strut, I still look like a foreigner. I might not look like an AMERICAN, precisely, but I think I've become some sort of weird amalgamation of Montanan functionality (my horribly ugly tire-shoes) and Italian flair (that look-at-me-aren't-I-fabulous walk that still makes me laugh at myself every time I catch me doing it), with a little bit of Michigan college-girl and wannabe fashionable person thrown in for good measure. It's weird. It confused the hell out of the French. I've definitely noticed it as it's developed. And I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not.

La bella figura is incredibly interesting. It's incredibly problematic from a feminist perspective. It's incredibly hard to explain if you haven't experienced it for yourself. And it's also incredibly necessary for living here. I didn't come to Italy fooling myself that any person anywhere would mistake me for Italian, and nevertheless I'm sure I'm going to go home with some wacky colored clothing that will be totally out of place in the States, hair like I stuck my tongue in an electrical socket, too much makeup for a college girl, and a walk that might be appropriate for some girl on America's Next Top Model who doesn't make the top 25. Thanks, la bella figura. Thanks a lot.