Caught up in the romance of the holiday season, Elisa Scarton Detti hits the streets of Manciano in southern Tuscany to find out what makes Tuscan men so darn attractive.
One Sunday afternoon, I was fixing a loose cupboard door with my father-in-law. As he bent down to pick something up, my mother-in-law walked behind him and he let off a fart so loud it almost shook the foundations.
It was in the moments following, as he nearly expired from laughter, that this story was born.
My father-in-law is very fond of saying: “Chi non scoreggia è un uomo morto” (The only men who don’t fart are dead men).
A man in his late 60s, he is a true Tuscan and a contemporary of actors like Giancarlo Giannini, Franco Nero and Fabio Testi, the suave count from Letters to Juliet, just one of the many movies that moulded our perception of the silent, roguishly handsome Italian who sweeps us off our feet and onto his Vespa.
With his salt and pepper locks and perfect amount of facial hair, the Italian male is a sophisticated linguist who dresses well, loves his mama and never orders beer.
He does not time his bodily functions for maximum comedic effect.