Once upon a time there was a housewife from Voghera: the term (casalinga di Voghera in Italian) was used to describe an average, stereotypical female voter or consumer and became an icon of the sociological imagination between the 1960s and 1980s. This figure possessed “good sense” – a positive quality and very different from “common sense”, which smacks of indifferent familism (or populism in today’s language). But then, over time, it began to denote someone increasingly uninterested in social issues and became the archetype of an uncultured female television audience. In today’s Italy, where consumption and customs have changed radically, and which continues to undergo profound transformation, now is a good time to take stock of the key figures in our controversial modern period. And a prime example worth discussing is the Voghera housewife, a discussion that also encompasses the historical and contemporary female world in Italy.
Indeed, we are living in restless times, full of uncertainty, violence and gender discrimination, beset by questions but lacking a multitude of answers. We have become a country of “sleepwalkers“, uncertain of the direction to take; old, fragile and increasingly alone, almost all convinced that Italy is a country in decline, as reported by research institute Censis – that rational and exacting analyst of our political and social mood. We are afraid of climate change destroying the world, but also fearful of wars and what the impact of new technologies may be. Younger generations no longer have children (only one in four couples will have a child in 2040) and are willing to leave Italy in search of a better professional and personal future (six million Italians live abroad). So, is it all negative?
According to Censis, the overall picture is more complex. Between 60 and 70% of us feel involved in discussions on civil rights, adoption for singles and homosexual couples, equal marriage rights for same-sex couples and, above all, ius soli (Italian citizenship for those who are born or go to school in Italy). And we display a strong sense of community (in our local areas) and a spirit of helping out and public service (the rise of volunteering). These are areas in which women play leading roles.
In short, there are many sides to Italy. We can only build up a proper picture of the country by delving into its contrasts and contradictions, knowing full well that the old, reassuring petty-bourgeois ideal of achieving prosperity has given way to a never-ending series of fears and worries. And we should, in any case, recall Ennio Flaiano’s acute reflection: “In Italy the shortest line between two points is the arabesque”.
So, have we really entered “the winter of our discontent”?
To put it another way, will the abilities of the Voghera housewives come in useful too in prioritising “good sense” and avoiding the traps laid by “common sense”, seeking to think in terms of real people and no longer in terms of “the people” as characterised by politicians?
All this will be discussed at the Teatro Sociale in Voghera, which recently reopened and was promptly named after Valentino Garavani, a famous fashion designer (born in Voghera, he may only have dressed a few housewives, but was certainly much in demand by beautiful and wealthy women in high society). This “semi-serious reflection from the economic boom to new forms of consumerism” features contributions from cultural and economic figures (Nando Pagnoncelli, Andrée Ruth Shammah, Maria Latella, Emanuela Scarpellini, Germano Lanzoni – star of the Imbruttito Milanese – series, Camilla Sernagiotto and Andrea Zatti).
Organised by trade association Assolombarda, the discussion is part of the “Pavia: Capital of Enterprise” programme. Its aim is to understand how social and cultural structures are changing and how to react to widespread concern about our future. That is, how to identify the choices we can make to avoid surrendering to the widespread Desperate Housewives-style nervous breakdown (the Americans had their own semi-equivalent version of our housewives), focusing instead on the prospects, however difficult, for recovery and development.
There is, however, a virtue that may help: that pragmatic, very Lombard, good sense that Alberto Arbasino, who coined the “Voghera housewife” expression in the mid-1960s, attributed to his aunts – solid provincial, bourgeois women. In the 1950s, moreover, Leo Longanesi, a champion of irreverent irony from the Romagna region, had already asked, “Will the old aunts save us?” in reference to women who were “all teachers”, “oak trunks with solid roots”, “faithful gendarmes to the State”, “guardians of the classical order” and inclined “to avarice as a sign of decorum…an act of faith… a pedagogical norm… and moral principle”. They remain relatives of “La signorina Felicita”, she of the “small things in terrible taste” portrayed in verse by Guido Gozzano (who was, however, from Turin). And in any case, during the twentieth century, they were a bourgeois focal point for a country emerging from the small-town, peasant-inflected fascist rhetoric of the so-called Italietta and entering the glittering modernity of post-war reconstruction, the “economic miracle” and a world of overwhelming political, economic and social change.
This was the Italy of television, of the quizzes hosted by Mike Buongiorno (Lascia o raddoppia?, Campanile sera) and Mario Riva (Il Musichiere), of the advertisements of Carosello and of the Saturday evening variety shows with the alluring Kessler Twins and Don Lurio’s choreography. It was an Italy that won recognition for having the most stable currency, awarded by the “Financial Times” to the lira in 1959 and 1964. An Italy that won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry, awarded in 1963 to Giulio Natta, the father of “plastics who rejuvenated Italy” (in the words of the Corriere della Sera headline commemorating the anniversary sixty years later). And an Italy that built the Pirelli Tower, designed by Gio Ponti and inaugurated in 1960 – a metropolitan symbol of industrial modernity. But it was also an Italy where, in 1966, state broadcaster Rai’s polling service, investigating how understandable the words spoken on small-screen programmes were, identified the “Voghera housewives” as the segment of the public least capable of understanding terms such as “leader ” or “scrutiny”.
This is, perhaps, where the roots of the stereotype lie: a provincial woman, with a low level of education, performing domestic work, or in any case low-skilled work, and possessing little familiarity with politics or social issues. Like all stereotypes, the description grates. And yet, it had great success. It also controversially referenced the popular literature of Carolina Invernizio, who was also from Voghera, with its easy language and cheap thrills.
Beniamino Placido, a sharp and cultured television critic, returned to the theme in the 1980s when writing in La Repubblica about the public who adored the programmes of Bruno Vespa.
This was, however, a different world to the Voghera aunts evoked by Arbasino.
Time has passed. But those housewives lived through recent history – they braved the 1973 energy crisis and the first attempts at “austerity” (they were in the squares, with their families, for the car-free Sundays, which began in December of that year, to limit petrol consumption after the price skyrocketed). They voted overwhelmingly against clerics’ attempt to abolish the divorce law in 1974. They contributed – each in their own way – to keeping the country united during the anni di piombo period of terrorism and brutal social conflicts. And they took a breath of satisfaction when the 1980s arrived, marked by money in their pockets and opulent consumption.
And today? Without giving in to unhealthy nostalgia for the good old days and setting aside the “Voghera housewives” or “Treviso housewives” (an evolution of the category in Nanni Moretti’s 1981 film Sweet Dreams), it is now time to jettison the ethics and aesthetics of those small kitchens and living rooms with embroidered doilies on tables and embrace the tensions and expectations of the women – young and old – of a province that increasingly, even in uncertain times, is proving to be anything but provincial.
These determined, enterprising women are skilled in the digital economy and determined to claim their rights and fulfil their duties – including fighting against gender violence and inequality. These are women leading institutions and businesses. They are at the heart of the “pink wave” that thronged Italian squares on 25 November to demand a stop to the violence against them, and against democracy and civilisation. They are women on a journey, happy to identify with Paola Cortellesi’s beautiful film, There’s Still Tomorrow. That “tomorrow” may require effort and be opposed by some, but it is also necessary and possible.
It may be worth reinterpreting – carefully and with new eyes – the Lombard pragmatism so dear to Arbasino.
Once upon a time there was a housewife from Voghera: the term (casalinga di Voghera in Italian) was used to describe an average, stereotypical female voter or consumer and became an icon of the sociological imagination between the 1960s and 1980s. This figure possessed “good sense” – a positive quality and very different from “common sense”, which smacks of indifferent familism (or populism in today’s language). But then, over time, it began to denote someone increasingly uninterested in social issues and became the archetype of an uncultured female television audience. In today’s Italy, where consumption and customs have changed radically, and which continues to undergo profound transformation, now is a good time to take stock of the key figures in our controversial modern period. And a prime example worth discussing is the Voghera housewife, a discussion that also encompasses the historical and contemporary female world in Italy.
Indeed, we are living in restless times, full of uncertainty, violence and gender discrimination, beset by questions but lacking a multitude of answers. We have become a country of “sleepwalkers“, uncertain of the direction to take; old, fragile and increasingly alone, almost all convinced that Italy is a country in decline, as reported by research institute Censis – that rational and exacting analyst of our political and social mood. We are afraid of climate change destroying the world, but also fearful of wars and what the impact of new technologies may be. Younger generations no longer have children (only one in four couples will have a child in 2040) and are willing to leave Italy in search of a better professional and personal future (six million Italians live abroad). So, is it all negative?
According to Censis, the overall picture is more complex. Between 60 and 70% of us feel involved in discussions on civil rights, adoption for singles and homosexual couples, equal marriage rights for same-sex couples and, above all, ius soli (Italian citizenship for those who are born or go to school in Italy). And we display a strong sense of community (in our local areas) and a spirit of helping out and public service (the rise of volunteering). These are areas in which women play leading roles.
In short, there are many sides to Italy. We can only build up a proper picture of the country by delving into its contrasts and contradictions, knowing full well that the old, reassuring petty-bourgeois ideal of achieving prosperity has given way to a never-ending series of fears and worries. And we should, in any case, recall Ennio Flaiano’s acute reflection: “In Italy the shortest line between two points is the arabesque”.
So, have we really entered “the winter of our discontent”?
To put it another way, will the abilities of the Voghera housewives come in useful too in prioritising “good sense” and avoiding the traps laid by “common sense”, seeking to think in terms of real people and no longer in terms of “the people” as characterised by politicians?
All this will be discussed at the Teatro Sociale in Voghera, which recently reopened and was promptly named after Valentino Garavani, a famous fashion designer (born in Voghera, he may only have dressed a few housewives, but was certainly much in demand by beautiful and wealthy women in high society). This “semi-serious reflection from the economic boom to new forms of consumerism” features contributions from cultural and economic figures (Nando Pagnoncelli, Andrée Ruth Shammah, Maria Latella, Emanuela Scarpellini, Germano Lanzoni – star of the Imbruttito Milanese – series, Camilla Sernagiotto and Andrea Zatti).
Organised by trade association Assolombarda, the discussion is part of the “Pavia: Capital of Enterprise” programme. Its aim is to understand how social and cultural structures are changing and how to react to widespread concern about our future. That is, how to identify the choices we can make to avoid surrendering to the widespread Desperate Housewives-style nervous breakdown (the Americans had their own semi-equivalent version of our housewives), focusing instead on the prospects, however difficult, for recovery and development.
There is, however, a virtue that may help: that pragmatic, very Lombard, good sense that Alberto Arbasino, who coined the “Voghera housewife” expression in the mid-1960s, attributed to his aunts – solid provincial, bourgeois women. In the 1950s, moreover, Leo Longanesi, a champion of irreverent irony from the Romagna region, had already asked, “Will the old aunts save us?” in reference to women who were “all teachers”, “oak trunks with solid roots”, “faithful gendarmes to the State”, “guardians of the classical order” and inclined “to avarice as a sign of decorum…an act of faith… a pedagogical norm… and moral principle”. They remain relatives of “La signorina Felicita”, she of the “small things in terrible taste” portrayed in verse by Guido Gozzano (who was, however, from Turin). And in any case, during the twentieth century, they were a bourgeois focal point for a country emerging from the small-town, peasant-inflected fascist rhetoric of the so-called Italietta and entering the glittering modernity of post-war reconstruction, the “economic miracle” and a world of overwhelming political, economic and social change.
This was the Italy of television, of the quizzes hosted by Mike Buongiorno (Lascia o raddoppia?, Campanile sera) and Mario Riva (Il Musichiere), of the advertisements of Carosello and of the Saturday evening variety shows with the alluring Kessler Twins and Don Lurio’s choreography. It was an Italy that won recognition for having the most stable currency, awarded by the “Financial Times” to the lira in 1959 and 1964. An Italy that won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry, awarded in 1963 to Giulio Natta, the father of “plastics who rejuvenated Italy” (in the words of the Corriere della Sera headline commemorating the anniversary sixty years later). And an Italy that built the Pirelli Tower, designed by Gio Ponti and inaugurated in 1960 – a metropolitan symbol of industrial modernity. But it was also an Italy where, in 1966, state broadcaster Rai’s polling service, investigating how understandable the words spoken on small-screen programmes were, identified the “Voghera housewives” as the segment of the public least capable of understanding terms such as “leader ” or “scrutiny”.
This is, perhaps, where the roots of the stereotype lie: a provincial woman, with a low level of education, performing domestic work, or in any case low-skilled work, and possessing little familiarity with politics or social issues. Like all stereotypes, the description grates. And yet, it had great success. It also controversially referenced the popular literature of Carolina Invernizio, who was also from Voghera, with its easy language and cheap thrills.
Beniamino Placido, a sharp and cultured television critic, returned to the theme in the 1980s when writing in La Repubblica about the public who adored the programmes of Bruno Vespa.
This was, however, a different world to the Voghera aunts evoked by Arbasino.
Time has passed. But those housewives lived through recent history – they braved the 1973 energy crisis and the first attempts at “austerity” (they were in the squares, with their families, for the car-free Sundays, which began in December of that year, to limit petrol consumption after the price skyrocketed). They voted overwhelmingly against clerics’ attempt to abolish the divorce law in 1974. They contributed – each in their own way – to keeping the country united during the anni di piombo period of terrorism and brutal social conflicts. And they took a breath of satisfaction when the 1980s arrived, marked by money in their pockets and opulent consumption.
And today? Without giving in to unhealthy nostalgia for the good old days and setting aside the “Voghera housewives” or “Treviso housewives” (an evolution of the category in Nanni Moretti’s 1981 film Sweet Dreams), it is now time to jettison the ethics and aesthetics of those small kitchens and living rooms with embroidered doilies on tables and embrace the tensions and expectations of the women – young and old – of a province that increasingly, even in uncertain times, is proving to be anything but provincial.
These determined, enterprising women are skilled in the digital economy and determined to claim their rights and fulfil their duties – including fighting against gender violence and inequality. These are women leading institutions and businesses. They are at the heart of the “pink wave” that thronged Italian squares on 25 November to demand a stop to the violence against them, and against democracy and civilisation. They are women on a journey, happy to identify with Paola Cortellesi’s beautiful film, There’s Still Tomorrow. That “tomorrow” may require effort and be opposed by some, but it is also necessary and possible.
It may be worth reinterpreting – carefully and with new eyes – the Lombard pragmatism so dear to Arbasino.
