Seventeen carries a curse in Italy that thirteen could only dream of.

I mentioned in my thirteenth post that I would address Italy’s fear of seventeen, but more than that, I have prepared to share how inherited beliefs shape—or limit—our choices.

In Italy, hotels skip from floor 16 to 18. You might also find number 17 omitted in Italian planes, street numbering, hotel floors. The Italian airline carrier, Alitalia, does not have a seat number 17. The national lottery changes 17 to “the disgrace.” Even Renault sold their “R17” model as “R177” in Italy, adding an extra seven to dodge disaster.

Why? In Roman numerals the number 17 (XVII) is an anagram of vixi, meaning “I have lived”—the past tense that means “I am dead.”

An anagram. That’s it. That’s the entire foundation of a nationwide aversion that costs millions in architectural revisions and rebranding campaigns.

The Fear That Raised Me

Growing up with Italian influence from my Nonna Maddalena and Nonno Alfredo, transferred down to my Mom Cristina, and then shared with me, my brother Derek, and Dad Kris, the number 17 became the fear of all fears.

Every time we looked at the clock, it was the 17th minute. Somehow, the day of the month was the 17th more often than not when we would pay attention to the calendar. Those minutes and those days were reserved for avoiding progress, stunted by superstitious fear that the number 17 would sabotage all plans and wreck success in exchange for failure.

We’d built our own prison of avoidance, seeing patterns that confirmed our inherited fear.

The Pattern Reverses

One day, I broke the mould.

A simple calculation changed everything—I was born in ’89—add those digits together and you get 17. The number we had spent years avoiding was literally written into my birth year through some basic math.

That realisation opened my eyes to other seventeens hiding in plain sight. Stuart, one of my best linemates in hockey, wore number 17. We were an unstoppable force on the ice, collecting points, not curses.

The most significant seventeen came in 2017 itself. That year, I incorporated Solespire—the company that would transform my life. The same year, I met my future wife Leila on VK, a Russian social network. We met in person on the 17th of December in Mexico, sealing another connection to this supposedly cursed number.

Through Solespire’s success and financial freedom it has afforded me, and through finding love with Leila—seventeen transformed from a family fear into personal fortune. What was meant to limit became what liberated.

The Mathematics Italy Ignores

While Italians dodge seventeen, mathematicians celebrate it.

Seventeen is prime—the seventh prime number, in fact. It’s the only prime that equals the sum of four consecutive primes (2+3+5+7). It appears in the Fibonacci sequence. Carl Friedrich Gauss proved at nineteen that a regular seventeen-sided polygon could be constructed with just a compass and straightedge—a discovery so profound he requested a heptadecagon be inscribed on his tombstone.

The Roman Numeral Remix

The fear of XVII becoming VIXI reveals something profound about human psychology: we see patterns where none exist, then build entire belief systems around these phantoms.

But, if we’re playing the anagram game, let’s play it properly:

XVII could also be rearranged as VIIX—which means nothing.

Or kept as XVII—which means seventeen.

The meaning we assign is the meaning it carries. Romans chose death. I choose life, love, and success.

From Inheritance to Independence

The origins of the superstition surrounding venerdì 17 in Italy are rooted in historical events, religious beliefs, and cultural influences. According to Christian teachings, Friday is regarded as a day of penance and mourning because it is the day of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. In the Old Testament of the Bible, it’s said that the great flood happened on the 17th of the second month.

All of this to point out a collective agreement to be afraid, to stunt growth, and stop advancing for a moment. While many in Italy take the day off from work on Friday the 17th to avoid leaving the house, a small percentage of us do something different.

We keep building.

My Italian heritage gave me many gifts—passion, family loyalty, appreciation for beauty and craft, but it also tried to give me this fear—which I learned to reject. The difference between inheritance and destiny is choice.

I kept the gifts. I rejected the fear.

The Business of Breaking Superstitions

Many prominent mathematicians, including no less than both Gauss and Riemann, conjectured that the inequality was strict when it came to prime numbers. To everyone’s surprise, this conjecture was refuted when Littlewood (1914) proved that the inequality reverses infinitely often.

Even a mathematical genius can be wrong about patterns. How much more wrong then are our superstitions?

The real curse isn’t XVII. It’s accepting someone else’s programming as your operating system.

My family’s fear of 17 wasn’t protecting us—it was limiting us. Every time we avoided that number, we reinforced its power over us. We were creating the very thing we feared.

The Italian Paradox

In fact, the number 13 is considered good luck in Italy. Think about that—Italians embrace the number most of the Western world fears, while fearing a number most of the world ignores.

There are many more Italian superstitions that date back hundreds or thousands of years. If you receive something sharp such as a penknife as a gift, tradition says you should prick the person who gave it to you, or give them a coin in return. Spotting a hearse with no coffin inside is thought to be an omen that your own death is approaching.

These beliefs reveal more about the power of cultural transmission than about reality. They persist not because they’re true, but because they’re taught.

Your Seventeenth Step

Right now, someone in Italy is avoiding seventeen while someone in their competition embraces it. One loses opportunity to ancient fear. The other gains advantage through indifference.

In a global economy, cultural superstitions become competitive disadvantages. While you’re dodging your culture’s unlucky number, someone from another culture is using it to win.

The question isn’t whether seventeen is lucky or unlucky. The question is whether you’ll let a Roman anagram from two millennia ago influence your decisions today.

Seventeen isn’t death. It’s data. It’s opportunity. It’s whatever you decide it is.

I’ve decided it’s mine.

My birth year ordained it. My business claimed it. My love story confirmed it.

Sometimes, the greatest rebellion is simply doing the math.

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Which inherited fear is costing you opportunity? Sometimes, the number you’re avoiding is the one you’re meant to claim.