
Black Friday has returned, although, in fairness, it never really left. We now inhabit a kind of permanent “Black November,” a retail twilight zone where every product whispers, “Buy me now, before I become scandalously more expensive.” And, right on cue, nearly seven in ten Italians are poised to click “Add to cart,” already plotting Christmas gifts with the strategic finesse of a general preparing for battle. The average spend? A modest 278 euros, just enough to reassure ourselves nothing’s changed, aside from the extra tenner that mysteriously appears each year.
But while we enjoy our digital dopamine hits, our cities are looking decidedly less festive. Shutters fall, shops close, and “For Rent” signs bloom across historic streets like a fungus no one ordered. Not just in idyllic villages, but in cities like Trento, Trieste, Ancona, Ravenna, places where neighbourhood shops once served as a community’s heartbeat. In twelve years, Italy has lost more than 140,000 businesses. Today, over 100,000 storefronts remain dark, waiting for someone brave or foolish enough to switch the light back on.
Ironically, Italians say they want more local shops. They long for humanity, proximity, and the comforting smell of real life. Yet, when the moment of truth arrives, the wallet performs a perfect swan dive straight into online checkout. Convenience? Laziness? Or simply the irresistible seduction of next-day delivery?
Meanwhile, the online world is gearing up for its own holiday celebrations. Enter the scammers—those tireless opportunists who treat Black Friday as their personal Christmas banquet. Fake websites, suspicious links, miraculous discounts: it’s all meticulously engineered to separate us from our money, or better yet, our identity. While we’re hunting for bargains, they’re hunting us. How festive.
In Veneto, however, consumer optimism is surprisingly bright. Spending on clothes, dining, wellness, and books is expected to rise, fuelled in part by Black Friday itself. Young people, especially, have evolved into a sort of discount-detecting species: sharp-eyed, swift-fingered, and capable of tracking deals with predatory precision.
Yet the sour taste persists. Physical stores still beat online in principle—but those in historic centres are struggling for breath, overshadowed by malls flashing discounts like sequins on a disco ball. Not ideal for anyone who believes in high streets filled with stories, characters, and the comforting presence of real humans. These shops are running a marathon with no water stations, no rest, and certainly no applause.
Which leaves us with a choice:
Do we opt for quick convenience, the almost magical speed of next-day delivery?
Or do we choose the shop around the corner—the one where a purchase feels like a tiny civic investment rather than a digital transaction?
Nothing is set in stone yet. The future of our cities still depends on us. If we look up from the glowing screen long enough, we might notice that “super mega discounts” come and go—but a living, breathing high street is something far harder to bring back from the ashes once it’s gone dark.
In dodici anni abbiamo salutato più di 140mila attività e oggi oltre centomila locali restano vuoti, in attesa di qualcuno disposto a riaccendere la luce. E, paradossalmente, gli italiani dicono di volere più negozi di quartiere. Peccato che, quando arriva l’occasione, il portafoglio cada di nuovo sugli acquisti online. Per pigrizia?