For those with time, money and the urge to splurge, there is Aldo Coppola, the hair stylist to the beau monde. Coppola opened his first salon in Milan in 1965. Now there are several across the town, the country and in the fashion capitals around the world. But what should the rest of us do if we find ourselves in Milan, are craving for a haircut, and are typically short of time and cash?
With a few hours to kill before I caught my flight back home, I began my search on foot for a hairdresser who could do a competent job, whose rates didn’t make me turn a shade of burnt sienna, and who was not too far from my hotel. A tall order, you may think, especially since my Italian was
minimal.
The solution surfaced unexpectedly in Via Ponte Seveso, not far from the central train station. A big signboard advertised the services of Jing Jing, parrucchiere, Italian for hairdresser. As I strode in, I was greeted with big smiles and no one asked if I had an appointment. The hairstylists were from mainland China. I confess to some initial inhibition. But then I thought of the big picture — when debt-ridden Europe was looking to China for rescue, how risky could it be for me to trust a Chinese hairdresser? There was another factor which emboldened me — having grown up in Kolkata, I was used to Chinese hairdressers and I have stuck with them in Delhi.
I gave the green signal to the young Chinese girl who had been waiting patiently with a hairstyle catalogue. Within seconds, it began — first the shampoo; then the cut; then texturising, followed by a blow dry. A cup of cappuccino arrived in between. I had barely recovered from the experience when the bill arrived. I held my breath. It was 10 euros.
Friends find it hard to believe that you can get a haircut this cheap in Italy. But in Italy, style is not the preserve of the rich. And the country remains its stylish self, even amid a financial crisis. The Jing Jing hair salon, where I had a hair cut for 10 euros last fortnight, is emblematic of a trend. If reports in the Italian media are to be believed, the economic downturn is pushing many Italians towards Chinese stylists, causing heartburn among Italian hairdressers.
It was an interesting time to be in Italy. The country is at the heart of Europe’s economic crisis, burdened by heavy debt, buffeted by social unrest, flash floods and demonstrations by car factory workers and civil servants. Compared to 2010, there seemed to be more people begging in the streets of Milan. An old man slept on the footpath a few blocks from my hotel. In front of the famous cathedral in the heart of the tourist district, many carried placards saying “I am poor, I am hungry.”
But consumer activity has not dried up completely — Italy’s top designers are out with items for the low-end market. People still jostle for discounted clothes and dine out.
There are more nuances. Immigration is a hugely sensitive issue in Italy, as elsewhere in Europe. But small businesses run by immigrants appeared pretty busy. Down the road from my hotel, Bangladeshis were running cyber cafes and selling flowers. I could manage fine on the streets of Milan with Bengali and faltering Italian. The Bangladeshi community appeared well-organised — they had their associations. Photographs of their representatives were plastered on walls in the poorer parts of town. A Bangladeshi I met at one of the cyber cafes told me he had been “sponsored” by a relative who lived in Italy.
His day job was as a packer
in one of the Armani outlets, but things were grim and
he also worked in the cyber cafe.
“Sikhs rescue Italy’s Parmesan cheese,” a recent news report proclaimed. Parmesan cheese, part of Italy’s cultural heritage, is now dependent on Sikh migrant labour. Making Parmesan entails long hours of work, with no weekends and few holidays. Few Italians are prepared to put up with this. So, “many of Italy’s 25,000-strong Sikh community have found their calling producing Parmesan and Prosciutto ham in Lombardy and Emilia Romagna,” according to a report by Agence France Presse. Most Sikhs work as dairy hands, the report pointed out, but some are taking over key roles.
I was in Italy to attend a conference on Media, Democracy and Sustainability, organised by the Italian NGO Greenaccord. The gathering brought together diverse voices from across the globe. The euro crisis cast its long shadow on our discussions. One of the hot topics we debated was the ecology-economics tightrope walk that many countries confronted.
William Rees, professor at the University of British Columbia, and the man who came up with the concept of “ecological footprint”, argued that “planned de-growth in rich countries should not be painful” and that the need of the hour was “steady-state economy” with improved well-being through greater ecological security as well as economic security.
Outside, in old towns like Saluzzo in Italy’s Piedmont region, beautiful architecture, deserted streets and signs of “Vendesi” (For sale) were telling reminders that “de-growth” had already started even if it was not a conscious policy decision. Saluzzo’s young are leaving or have left for greener pastures. Left behind are the old, walking their dogs.
But amid the gloom, there were signs that warmed the heart. One evening in an old town hall, I listened to a 19-year-old Italian play an exquisite piece of music — a sonata from Brahms. He was one of the most promising young musicians from the area and his training had been part-financed by the local municipality. “We don’t know how long the municipal authorities will continue to support such students, given the precarious economic situation,” said the school’s director. I hope it will be a very long time.

The writer writes on development issues in India and emerging economies and can be reached at patralekha.chatterjee@gmail.com