Enrico Coveri pour Homme Enrico Coveri 1983 Eau de Toilette

They sit together as they do every Saturday afternoon, in the shade of the plane trees and the cathedral. They sit next to each other and not opposite each other, watching the hustle and bustle on the piazza seemingly uninvolved, as you can't see their eyes behind their sunglasses. If you pass by in a hurry or just glance at them, you could almost think they were ignoring each other - and only if you pause can you see that under the table - with two glasses of Spritz, two cell phones and her bag (not new, but once very expensive) - he is holding her hand tightly in his. Just like every Saturday afternoon in the piazza. And like many more.

The children are already out of the house - one in Rome, the other in America - and of course they miss her. And yet they enjoy bella figura and dolce farniente, two hours every Saturday afternoon. One child is sure to call later, the other at some point. They look elegant in their wicker chairs - just like Italian couples over sixty look elegant when they sit in the piazza with a Spritz. She, still petite, with large sunglasses, suede moccasins and a cashmere twinset under her bouclé jacket. He in a navy blue quilted jacket with a pink sweater, with good shoes and a good watch.

Back then, a good thirty years ago, on a Saturday afternoon like this, he rode his Vespa across the piazza - past the girls standing chatting opposite the cathedral. He was a little nervous, because his two best friends had said that he wouldn't dare invite the prettiest girl on the far left for lunch anyway. He had slowed down close to her and looked back over his shoulder at the two of them, who were watching him from the shadows of the cathedral. Then he dismounted and asked if she would like to go out with him. Two years later, they got married - in the cathedral on the piazza where the plane trees stand.

He recently heard - he's pretty sure of it - a friend of his daughter's say to her, 'your dad is still a handsome man'. He told his wife later at dinner, and she wiped the gray curls from his forehead, gave him a gentle kiss and said, 'Yes, Trottolino, you're still a handsome man He's not sure whether she wasn't trying to make fun of him a little, but when he checked his stomach in the bathroom in the evening, he thought: 'niente male', not bad at all. You can see this satisfaction as he sits there in the piazza, holding the hand of the love of his life in his own. He has never cheated on her.

Enrico Coveri pour Homme tells this story with just one spritz. The Vespa, the spritz, the cathedral and the sunglasses. The blue quilted jacket and the plane trees - and her hand in his for so many years. A fragrance as Italian men liked to wear it at the end of the last century: conservative and yet a little southern bunga-bunga, hesperidic at the beginning and a hint of barber, a little fougère at the heart and then a little real guy. Smells terribly old-fashioned today - even opposite the cathedral, where the plane trees stand. And yet full of tenderness and history - and great love in the piazza, in Italy somewhere.

Summary: 'Trottolino amoroso' is taken from the song 'Vattene amore', which the cantautore Amedeo Minghi sang as a duet with the very young Mietta in 1990 and which has become an evergreen in Italy. Like many lines of the song, 'Trottolino amoroso' is difficult to translate literally - 'Trottolino' is an Italian picture book character in the form of a squirrel - so perhaps a very generous translation would be 'beloved little sparrow'. Lovers in Italy still call each other that. And perhaps that evening the piazza resounded: 'Magari ti chiamerò, trottolino amoroso, dudu dadadà. Ed il tuo nome sarà il nome di ogni città, di un gattino annaffiato che miagolerà...'