Window on Fidenza fashion

One of the pleasures of strolling Fidenza's main street is window-shopping the elegant clothing stores whose windows stand out amid the more mundane establishments typical of a small Italian city--the pastry shops and gelaterie, the real-estate offices, tabacchi, coffee bars,  and pharmacies. the halal butcher, the florist,The little shops selling jackets, dresses, and underwear mostly aren't big-name fashion brands; for that you need to go to the Fidenza Village outlet mall a couple miles outside of town. But, or perhaps therefore, the stores in town put a surprising amount of energy into their window displays, changing the outfits on the manikins every few days. 

And although the styles of the different shops vary from party girl to refined matron, it sometimes seems they're all following a similar playbook. 

A few weeks ago, a lot of stores suddenly erupted in Kelly green, often paired with pink. 

I noticed this rather violent combination mainly because I find that shade of green peculiarly unpleasant. Maybe that's just because wearing it would make me look jaundiced. 

And the answer to the question that some readers may have--does anyone in Fidenza actually dress like this?--is yes. Not everyone, of course, not even most people, but when I sit in the coffee bar across from our front door and survey the passing crowds there are women who regularly astonish me with their enthusiasm for bright, bling-y, very Italian fashion. Although I admit I haven't seen anyone in that pink fur vest, at least not yet.

I was relieved when, within a week or so, Kelly green began to be replaced by black and white, a color combo (or non-color combo) much more to my own taste.  

You can see vestigial Kelly green in the background.

I'm not claiming that every store in town turned its back on color. But the shift was noticeable up and down the avenue.

Not only that, but some of the clotheshorses of a certain age that I like to keep an eye on (but am too cowardly to photograph) began appearing in, for example, a black-and-white blanket-check coat, a white puffer jacket over black pleather leggings and boots. Clearly a memo had gone out to the fashionistas in town and everyone was following its orders.

But by the time I'd taken a few more photographs and started the arduous process of composing this little squib, the ground was beginning to shift beneath me. Pink had at first been merely an accent.

Now it began claiming the starring role.

Or perhaps the shift is not to pink per se, but to exuberant colors calculated to counter the cold, foggy gray of a Po Valley winter. 

It's also true that Fidenza's fashion attention span seems to be remarkably short. The photo below shows one of the windows that first made me realize that black and white was the "in" look for November. It was taken six days ago.

And here is the same window as of yesterday. Apparently while I was writing this a new memo went out.

I'm not rushing in to buy that suit, but I still like any of these new colors better than Kelly green. And come what may, color-wise, I can be sure that strolling around the neighborhood, even under gray, drizzly skies, will continue to be a reliable source of entertainment. 

Addendum: Macchinette in Sicily

I saw some interesting vending machines during our visit to Sicily, too. A couple that I examined in Palermo sold the usual drinnks and snacks but not the sustaining range of groceries provided by our macchinetta in Fidenza. However, the Palermo macchinette had not only a variety of condoms but also CBD products with names like Skunk, Amnesia, and Gelato #420. 

Pay no attention to the old lady ogling the merchandise.

Medical marijuana is legal in Italy, as long as it's not very strong--less than 6 percent THC (the main psychoactive compound in marijuana). That's notably less than the 10 percent allowed in California. CBD is legal for general sale to Italians, but only if it's even weaker--less than 2 percent THC. So although the CBD products in this machine are pricey, at 10 euros for a gram, they probably don't deliver much of a kick. (This is all based on a quick internet search; please don't take it as legal advice.) 

The most surprising macchinetta I've seen was also in Sicily. A small kiosk in the middle of one of Palermo's busiest streets is a coin-operated laundry. As we walked by I saw this gallant fellow shield a companion from the stares of passersby like me. Then the items she'd just taken off went into the washing machine.

I suspect these folks weren't locals, but I didn't have the presence of mind to ask. The artwork-cum-sign above their heads mentions rivers, lakes, oceans, and Niagara Falls as well as soap and washing machines. Perhaps that makes people feel more comfortable doing their laundry out in the open.   

The little (vending) machines

The only vending machines that are part of my life in California are the ones for BART tickets and parking spaces. Otherwise I associate them with bottles of water and stale candy bars, conveniences I've turned to only under desperate circumstances, such as being stuck in an airport or a hospital waiting room at two in the morning. 

Here in Italy, though, vending machines are ubiquitous. I'm sure a big reason is that, with stores and bars often closed in the middle of the day, on Sundays, and on Thursday afternoons, the machines are the only way to provide 24-hour access to the things people need.  

A case in point are machines selling cigarettes. Here's one that also sells lottery tickets. To buy either you have to insert an identity card or other documentation to prove that you're 18 or older. I was surprised to see that prices are almost half what they are in California.

Equally thick on the ground are machines that sell espresso and other coffee drinks. Apparently Italians need to be able to reup their caffeine intake anywhere, anytime.  

This one, a few blocks from us, grinds beans to order. I'm too loyal to my local bars to try it, but my price-conscious husband pointed out that the machine's cappuccino is less than a third the price the bars charge. (Maybe the machine saves money by leaving out that second p.)

Here's another machine a few blocks in the other direction, a marvel of ingenuity capable of serving up anything from decaf espresso to tea with lemon to hot chocolate. Note that you can get a little or a lot of sugar or just an empty cup. As the Italian TV chef Giorgione likes to say, Che meraviglia! 

I was surprised to see all the coffee drinks with ginseng, since I hadn't heard of this off-putting combination before. Maybe people only drink it out of machines. The website of one purveyor of such beverages, boasting that ginseng "has invigorating and energizing effects" and "is a natural aphrodisiac," describes the taste as a bit spicy, bitter at first with a sweet aftertaste, adding, "Some say it reminds them of toffee." No wonder, since these drinks contain minimal amounts of ginseng but lots of sugar and fat. 

The Fidenza government has its own vending machines. On a corner on the outskirts I spotted these. 

The box on the right provides the town sanitation service's color-coded bags for recyclables and garbage. The pink structure on the left dispenses water, still or sparkling; you have to bring your own bottles. Both offer their wares for free--ah, social democracy!--to those who have the right kind of identification card. As nonresidents we, sadly, do not. 

Recent additions to the local vending scene are little open-air alcoves on the street containing machines that sell everything from condoms to tomato sauce. Pam says these places only began appearing in Fidenza in the past five to ten years, and that they're referred to as "macchinette," little machines. The one we're most familiar with is a few blocks from us. It houses several vending machines that sell not only coffee drinks but an extensive array of sodas, juices, cookies, chips, and other impulse buys. (The red door is purely decorative.)

Coffee was what these two ladies were here for.  

What brings us there several times a week is the machine that sells bottles of milk. Pam swears it's fresher than what's in the supermarket, and it's also 30 cents cheaper.

The same machine also sells yogurt and kefir in several flavors, and at various times butter, grating cheese, tomato sauce, dry salami, rice, ground coffee, cream, and tiramisu. You could survive for quite a while just on what you can buy from this little automat.

In addition to what they sell, these little stalls also offer young men (it always seems to be men) a place to hang out late at night when the bars are closed, the weather's damp, and they're not ready to go back home to their parents. The machine we go to used to sell beer as well as soft drinks, but that's no longer true. Pam says that the young fellows would hang out there into the wee hours, drink, and get increasingly raucous. The neighbors are probably grateful the beer is gone.

Young males are no doubt the target audience for another convenience some of these machines offer, tucked in among the snacks: preservativi, that is, condoms. Good to have them handy if you've been drinking a lot of ginseng espresso.

This machine, down at the other end of town, provides three brands, including a "preservativi ritardanti" for "the joy of taking your time. "

Apparently some are impatient, though, or perhaps bursting with too much ginseng energy. A sign on the same machine begs, "Please don't kick the dispenser."