Most Italians have only one August vacation goal: get a serious tan. What qualifies as a serious tan? How about someone mistaking you for their alligator skin purse or a prune.
Why a tan is so important is beyond me. But coming home without one is proof of one thing: You didn’t have fun.
Most Italians wait 10 months for their summer tanning op. More serious tanners get a winter head start by visiting Bunny’s Sun, Gino’s Solarium or one of the gazillion other tanning salons around Rome. And gazillion may not cover it.
Though we’re in the middle of an economic downturn (crisi has been the going word for a year), there’s no shortage of bronze people. I noticed this while on vacation in Calabria and Sicily, both beachy destinations with incredible coastlines.
Plenty of people were parked on beaches under a brutal sun with only minimal protection (as in SPF 3). Others sat around and lathered Johnson & Johnson’s baby oil. Yes, you read that correctly. Old fashioned baby oil. Others used absolutely nothing. Nada.
Meanwhile, I furiously rubbed on baby-strength SPF 50 head-to-toe every few hours. Granted, I have fairer skin than most Italians, whose olive-toned skin can help dilute the sun. But I need stronger protection, which includes staying under a beach umbrella when I’m not swimming.
But I’m an exception. In general, either you’re baking and broiling or you’re just not normal. I find it hard just looking at the broilers. Don’t they get hot? After all, they rarely bathe. One woman next to me at the beach club had misting bottle. Occasionally, she’d spray herself like a fern.
My own motto was “tan slowly,” which my beach buddies would probably consider a heresy. But the slow tan comes with the “return curse.”
Back in Rome, my doorman Davide got into it immediately. “You’re so white! What did it rain down in Calabria? You must not have had any fun. I mean, where’s your tan?”
I laughed. Kind of.
“See this beautiful skin of mine?” I told him pleasantly. “I’m 34 years old. Let’s talk to all the bronze beach babes in about 20 years and see who’s happy then.”
That’s when prunes blossom.
