As the sun sets on another Italian summer, the 2025 vacation season has revealed a stark and unsettling reality: the dream of a seaside holiday, once seen as an almost sacred tradition for families across the country, is slipping further out of reach for many. According to PressMoliLaz, the numbers are unambiguous: July saw a 15% drop in beach attendance compared to June, with even more dramatic declines of 25% in Calabria and Emilia-Romagna. The culprit? A relentless surge in vacation costs, which have soared by 30% compared to 2019, transforming what was once a right into a privilege for the few.
It’s not just a story of empty beaches and shuttered umbrellas. The price of hotels and motels has skyrocketed by 40.6%, B&Bs and vacation homes by 22.7%, and organized vacation packages by a staggering 56.6%. Domestic flights, crucial for reaching many of Italy’s renowned destinations, have seen an 81% price hike, creating not just an economic barrier but a form of territorial discrimination. Even basic beach services—like renting an umbrella and sunbed—have gone up by 5%, as cited by consumer association Altroconsumo. For many Italian families, a simple day at the seaside now feels like a luxury splurge.
Antonio Capacchione, president of the Sindacato Italiano Balneari, painted a somber picture: “In terms of presences and consumption on the beach, the month of July was worse than June.” This contraction, he noted, has cut across the entire country, from the Ligurian coast to the southern shores of Calabria. The most jarring twist? While the number of international tourists is on the rise, fewer Italians are able to enjoy their own country’s natural treasures. “Italians are becoming foreigners in their own land,” PressMoliLaz observed, highlighting a scenario where the right to the sea—a communal good if ever there was one—is slipping away from the very people who call this place home.
This isn’t just a fleeting market fluctuation. It’s a deep-seated shift, a kind of anthropological transformation in the relationship between Italians and their territory. The economic squeeze is so acute that many families are now only able to afford brief weekend getaways, if at all, rather than the traditional week-long holidays that once marked the Italian summer. Federalberghi, the national hotelier association, confirmed that in Sardinia, for example, “the number of Italian tourists decreased mainly in terms of length of stay rather than number of arrivals.” The days are shorter, the breaks more hurried, and the sense of leisure diminished.
But the story isn’t uniform across the peninsula. While regions like Calabria, Emilia-Romagna, and even Liguria—long a favorite of the northern bourgeoisie—have seen steep declines in tourism, Sardinia and Puglia have bucked the trend, thanks to a steady influx of international visitors. Still, even Sardinia wasn’t immune: as of August 24, 2025, it experienced a 10% drop in tourist presences, as reported by local sources. The composition of foreign tourists is changing, too, with fewer Germans and more travelers from Scandinavia and Eastern Europe, suggesting that even international tourism is being shaped by shifting economic tides.
Agritourism, interestingly, has been a rare bright spot. In Sardinia, the season was excellent for farm stays and rural escapes, offering a glimmer of hope for operators who have otherwise faced a tough summer. Looking ahead, there’s cautious optimism for September, with many bookings already on the books and hopes pinned on a surge of last-minute reservations as Italians and foreigners alike try to salvage a bit of summer before autumn sets in.
Behind these numbers lies a deeper question about what it means to rest, to recharge, and to belong. Article 36 of the Italian Constitution guarantees workers the right to paid annual leave, a principle that goes beyond mere absence from work—it’s about the right to meaningful leisure, to the kind of restorative time that vacations provide. When rising prices force entire segments of the population to forgo holidays or cut them short, Italy isn’t just facing economic hardship; it’s witnessing the emergence of what PressMoliLaz calls a new form of “vacation poverty.” This isn’t just about material deprivation, but about a loss that touches the very core of well-being and social cohesion.
The macroeconomic impact is hard to ignore. Despite a 2.5% drop in overall tourist flows in 2024, tourism spending rose by 3.8%, reaching 127 billion euros. The paradox? The sector is generating more revenue by serving fewer people—a phenomenon economists have dubbed “forced premiumization.” The result is a tourism industry that’s becoming increasingly elitist, with wealth and access concentrated among a shrinking group of consumers. This model, PressMoliLaz argues, threatens not just the industry but the broader social fabric, as the reduction in domestic tourism ripples through transport, hospitality, local crafts, and support services.
The weekend concentration of tourism, as noted by beach operators, is another sign of the times. What used to be a relaxing holiday has morphed into a series of micro-escapes, reflecting the mounting financial pressures on Italian families. It’s a new form of “survival tourism,” where the right to rest is squeezed into ever smaller pockets of time.
What’s to be done? Many industry leaders and observers are calling for decisive public intervention. Confcommercio, the national business federation, has advocated for “supporting tourist demand with tax relief and simplification measures to counterbalance inflationary pressures.” But experts say that’s just the beginning. Looking to Europe, there are models for making holidays more accessible: from French vacation vouchers to Scandinavian social tourism programs, there are proven tools for ensuring that leisure isn’t just for the privileged few.
Given that tourism accounts for over 13% of Italy’s GDP and directly employs more than 3 million people, the stakes are high. Leaving such a vital sector to the whims of the market, PressMoliLaz warns, risks undermining not only economic stability but also the very idea of collective well-being. The challenge is to strike a balance between profitability and social access, to ensure that vacations remain a right of citizenship and not a distant luxury.
As the “summer of disenchantment” draws to a close, Italy stands at a crossroads. Will it reclaim the ideal of leisure as a shared national good, or resign itself to a future where only the well-heeled can afford to dip their toes in the Mediterranean? The answer will shape not just the future of Italian tourism, but the kind of society Italians wish to build for generations to come.
