By Amanda Ruggeri

The first time one Italian friend picked me up on his motorino, he almost refused to let me get on. "You're not wearing a scarf," he said, looking at me with concern.

I frowned. Of course I wasn't; the September weather was practically balmy. And then it registered. "Oh, the colpo d'aria? I'll survive," I said. After four years in Italy, I'd learned that there was one thing many Italians feared above all others: literally, the "hit of wind."

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Source: http://nymag.com