I could find no translation for the first word -- "chiromazia" -- with a quick check on the Internet, but add one letter -- "chiromanzia" -- and the word is translated as "palmistry" by Google Translate. The ad goes on:
La Signora "Filomena" & "her Grandmother"
Back from Italy
57 Years Experience
The ad specifies that the duo have "Never failed a case" and, most importantly, they are:
Helps in reuniting lost love, finding true love,
trouble in marriage, success in business,
in-law & family problems.
The malocchio (usually spelled with an h) actually translates, of course, as "bad eye" or, more commonly, "evil eye." If you've grown up in an Italian-American household, you've heard the term many times. You never wanted to get the malocchio; in fact, you'd wear the red horn around your neck to protect you. If you had a stretch of bad luck or illness, it was commonly assumed that someone had given you the evil eye.
100% guaranteed to remove Maloccio (bad luck)
Seeing the ad reminded me of one of the more bizarre and frightening episodes of my childhood. When I was perhaps 10 years old, my mother had a string of painful headaches. At some point, as I looked on, my grandmother performed the ritual that chased away the malocchio and I was a bit freaked out by it. In the kitchen of our apartment on Chelsea Street, my grandmother placed drops of olive oil in a bowl of water and chanted something in Italian and then she tossed the contents of the bowl out the second-floor window.
My mother's mother was a rather practical woman who was born, I found out later, in Jersey City. I can't recall ever hearing her speak Italian except in this instance -- probably words that she had been taught by her own mother. There may have been more to the ritual, but that is all I remember. (It's quite possible that I ran out of the kitchen at that point.)
I just returned from two weeks in Italy and one of the gifts I received was a small plastic figure of a man with a blindfold on his eyes and the horn below him. I was told to hang it on my door. I'm not superstitious, but ... you know ... it was a gift, and so the giver's instructions have to be honored, right?