The shoppers who flock to Florence from all over the world come with the strange misconception that shopping in Italy is fun. Armani’s class, Ferragamo’s craftsmanship, a bit of Versace sparkle, and a dash of Valentino red might make you think so. Fun, however, is not exactly the word I would use. Intimidating is more like it. Baffling might work. Not that any of us usually admit it. Telling people that shopping in Italy is more excruciating than enjoyable is like going to a Christmas party and telling your host’s five-year old that there is no Santa Claus. Besides, visiting shoppers are generally too anxious to fill their new Gucci luggage with San Lorenzo leather to be bothered with the likes of me and my Italian shopping traumas.
So, go ahead, immerse yourself body and soul in the joys of a city-centre shopping spree. It usually only takes about three “Entrata Libera” signs before you’ll start wondering: “Free entrance? What exactly do they mean by that? After all, these are shops not museums. They certainly don’t expect you to pay an entrance fee just for browsing, do they?”
Well, no. The Entrata Libera signs are there because there is actually no word for “browsing” in Italian. The concept of walking into a store without the slightest idea of what you will find in there, or if you’ll want to buy something once you find out, is a relatively new idea in Italy. And indeed, phantom shopping is not choice Italian entertainment. Let’s just say that Italians don’t find anything fun about picking through overstuffed clothes racks to find a bargain. Not that there are too many overstuffed racks or bargains in Italy to begin with. Mostly, when Italians walk into a shop, they go with a purpose. Prior to stepping inside, Italians will closely scrutinise the shop window and memorise everything that the store has in stock. For most Italians this process takes about 3.5 seconds and is especially effective because most of the smaller shops display all of their merchandise in the window. Therefore, there’s really no reason to browse. It’s all right there, for the whole strolling world to see.
“I want a pair of black trousers, size forty-two, wool-cotton mix, low waist, no pockets, narrow legs, crease in front, and hem turned up at the bottom, per favore,” is what Italians say when they march into a store ready to make their purchase. Is there any room for browsing in all that?
Basically, in a society of secure shoppers and fashion experts, the Entrata Libera sign was designed to give customers permission to be indecisive. Does this mean that most Italian shopkeepers expect you to buy just because you timidly venture over their threshold? In Florence, probably not. In an international city like this one, most clerks have probably had to get used to the idiosyncrasies of foreign shoppers who touch everything and buy nothing.
Francesca, a shop assistant in one of Florence’s many specialty shops, explained, “At first it was shocking to see people wander into the shop and pull things off shelves without so much as a glance at me. It was like having someone come into my house and rummage through my drawers! But I have finally understood,” continued Francesca with a smile, “that many foreign customers are used to looking with their hands. In Italy we talk with our hands, but look with our eyes. It takes a little while to get used to, ma va bene, it’s okay, because it proves the world is a varied place.”
So happy shopping! But next time you are tempted to mosey liberamente into a central boutique, prepare yourself psicologicamente before entering. Then just march right in there with a click in your step and demand (yes demand) to see the tailored cotton collared shirt with the pink and green butterfly motif you saw hanging in the window.
The clerk will ask, “Che misura?”
You will unflinchingly respond “Una 44.”
And you will be sure to have made a friend.
