When a village fines bare skin, what is really being policed?

Varenna, a fishing village on Lake Como, has begun fining tourists up to €200 for appearing in public bare-chested or in swimwear, according to the Guardian. The measure is framed as an effort to preserve local decorum and protect the character of a place that has, for generations, drawn visitors precisely because of its beauty and informality. Yet the rule exposes a tension that now runs through much of Italy's relationship with tourism: the desire to welcome the world's money while policing the world's behaviour.

The rule is not unique. The Guardian notes it is the latest in a series of attempts by Italian holiday destinations to crack down on what authorities deem uncouth tourism. Venice has restricted cruise ships; Florence has banned large groups; smaller towns have imposed noise curfews. Each measure responds to a real strain—infrastructure overwhelmed, neighbourhoods transformed, local life squeezed to the margins. But each also reveals the impossibility of the bargain tourism demands: you cannot invite millions and expect them to behave as though they are not there.

What makes Varenna's fine worth pausing over is its specificity. Bare skin is not litter or noise. It is not damage. It is a question of what body is acceptable in a public space, and who decides. In a lakeside village in July, when the heat is intense and the water is metres away, the distinction between swimwear and street clothes becomes arbitrary. The fine does not protect Varenna's character so much as assert control over it—a reassertion of local authority in a place where tourism has already rewritten the rules of daily life.

The deeper question is whether fines can preserve what they claim to protect. A village that must charge visitors for their appearance has already conceded that the old order is gone. What remains is not civility recovered but civility performed, purchased, and policed. That is not heritage. It is theatre with an admission price.