Big in Little Italy

American footballers have shoulders artificially enlarged by statement armour; tailors in Naples don't use shoulder padding, preferring a more easygoing look, flattering the body rather than exaggerating it.

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But that might simply be the difference between the American and Italian ways of doing things.

The Ghia Cadillac is a demonstration of these contrasting styles. The result of them coming together is a masterly synthesis of brute force and elegance. The linebacker steps backwards, rips off his sweaty armour, gives a graceful nod and puts on a nice suit. But New York and Turin were involved as well as Detroit and Naples.

Cars, of course, transport you. On the ground and in the imagination. I often think the latter is even more important than the mundane business of connecting the first two letters of the alphabet. In this case, the imagination takes us and our Ghia Cadillac directly to neither Detroit nor Turin, but 154 East 54th Street in Manhattan, where we pull up outside a swish canopy that says 'El Morocco.'

There are blue and gold doors, while a notice says 'Proper Attire: jacket and tie required at all times.' Formerly a speakeasy, by 1953 El Morocco had evolved to become a place where you could count the people who count.

The proprietor of El Morocco was onetime boxer John Perona, but now gentrified in his own sharp Italian threads. Never forget, the Italian idea of gentiluomo gave us the idea of gentleman. Born Giovanni in Ivrea, near Turin, Perona narrowly missed an accidental death on his way to the US when, detained by a passionate romantic interest in Liverpool, he missed his sailing on RMS Titanic.