Scaperia's 'Infiorata' Flower Festival

A well-known Italian song has as its theme, "to make anything, you only need a flower"

(per fare tutto ci vuole un fiore).

The lyrics of this children's song comes alive every year in Scarperia, a village north of Florence in the Mugello valley, which hosts a flower-painting festival, the "Infiorata," the last weekend in May.
At the base of the mountain pass leading to Romagna, Scaperia is one of the last towns in the province of Florence.
Here, residents color up the main streets and celebrate their community.

Frugal Tuscans are known for not throwing away anything, and reutilizing whenever possible. This includes stale bread which is the basis of their signature soups pappa al pomodoro and ribollita.  Here we are at the end of May, where flowers in a number of small town festivals are separated into petals, stems and buds, destined to be
re-used in the flower paintings.

For a day, Scarperia forgets its medieval origins mirrored in austere medieval architecture, and the streets and squares bloom.  Drawings by local elementary school children (Piazza Clasio), middle school students (Piazza dei Vicari) and shop owners who access their inner child (via Roma) on a theme are chosen, faithfully recreated as patterns and
outlined by the teachers or the artistically talented
directly on the cobblestone pavement.

The locations come alive with people -- children, parent and residents -- decorating the designs, which come alive in 2D and sometimes 3D thanks to papier maché and flower installations.

Petals lend the vividness, and with the mixture of colors and texture, the participant can create almost any shade he or she wants to see in the picture.  Dark colors such as brown and black
are applied with seeds and soil.

The 2016 theme was animals in literature.

An eagerly-awaited moment of the event is the climb to the top of Palazzo dei Vicari.
This is no Disney recreation, the building was the originally the headquarters of the military rulers, later turned into the bishop's palace in the late 16th century.

Great place for putting things into perspective: here is an overall view of the 

fox petal painting.

The eye-catching designs are a heart-warming manifestation of the local community.
When the sun goes down, everyone, including the children, pitches in to dissemble their creations.

Beauty is fleeting -- here it lasts the space of a day.

But the "T" in Tuscany also stands for tradition, and next year
the "Infiorata" will once again blossom
and grace the streets and squares of Scarperia.

Per fare tutto ci vuole un fiore -
To make anything, you only need a flower.

        
               reporting live for Beautiful Florence
                              -- Rosanna 
                                                       & Greta Szabó 

Poli & Teatro Niccolini: Death & Resurrection

Life, death and rebirth: the Easter story in three words.
Easter 2016 in Florence was no exception.

All the world's a stage," wrote William Shakespeare in "As You Like It."

Florence in 2016 saw the rebirth of its oldest stage, the Teatro Niccolini in early January, and right before Easter, the death of the actor who was invited to perform on opening night:
 Paolo Poli.

The origins of the theatre date back to the 1600s.  Amplified to its current size between 1711 and 1764, its original name "Teatro del Cocomero" (Watermelon Theatre") merely mirrored its location on via del Cocomero" (Watermelon Street).  In 1860, it was re-christened in honor of Giovanni Battisti Niccolini, a playwright from the Tuscan town of Livorno who had the honor of seeing his works on stage there. The road, now the present-day via dei Ricasoli leading from Florence's Cathedral to San Marco, was renamed for the second Prime Minister of a united Italian kingdom, Bettino Ricasoli.  The statesman was a Florentine.

Florence was also the birthplace of the acclaimed stage actor Paolo Poli.  He starred in 12 plays at the Niccolini in the 1980s until the early 1990s, when the theatre was closed.  Graciously coming out of retirement at age 86 just for the occasion, his performance re-inaugurated the space after  restoration and renovation which lasted exactly 10 years, from 2006 to 2016.

I met Poli at the event's press conference on January 9.  He praised local publisher and entrepreneur Mauro Pagliai who purchased the building.  Pagliai found financing to so the theatre could maintain its 18th century architecture with modern wiring, lighting and security and Poli thanked him
"for giving the Niccolini back to the city."

Then he unexpectedly expressed his desire "to die in exile, like Dante."
"Florence is a city of merchants with closed hearts, who as described in his 'Divine Comedy' are
ungenerous and miserly, prideful and envious," he added.

Poli's wish was granted: he passed away in Rome.  Dapper and elegant, I was not surprised to discover that he had a degree in French literature.  Since I studied French and French literature for a number of years, even acting in a college production of "The Bourgeois Gentleman" by Molière (who knew I would move to Italy?), his style brought to mind the attitude of my teachers.
Although they were "Québécois" (French-Canadians), they were careful
to instill in us a Parisian accent and knowledge
of France and French manners.

Back to Poli, he entered a new life on March 25.  The date also happens to be Florentine New Year, the Feast of the Annunciation (Gabriel appearing to Mary). It was the first day on the calendar up to 1750 in Florence, where it is still  celebrated with traditional events.  Like it or not,
Florence was Poli's final resting place.

In true Florentine style, the actual birth of of Teatro Niccolini had its roots in conflict.  Members of the theatre company founded the "Accademia degli Immobili" on the premises of the present-day Niccolini in 1650.  A year later, the group split:  half went to establish the Teatro della Pergola, and those who remained renamed their company "Accademia degli Infuocati" (The Ardent Actors Academy).  Their coat-of-arms, visible in the newly renovated theatre (right), is of a fiery time bomb beginning to explode.

A speaker at the event said that Pagliai (which means haystacks in Italian, notably combustible) was the right person to to reopen the Niccolini!

The Niccolini's fiery beginning was to continue throughout its history.  After hosting notable productions and actors such as Poli and Vittorio Gassman, it closed in 1995.  The theatre suffered abandonment, the ravages of time, even severe damage caused
by a student sit-in which happened in 2002.

At the press preview, I was sitting one seat over from another extremely famous Italian stage actor, Gabriele Lavia.  I  surreptitiously aimed my Iphone camera towards him, and luckily, he didn't notice.
I did, however, hear him comment that Pagliai's gamble was one of "incosciente follia" (pure madness, not taking risks into account).

In his "fool's paradise" Mauro Pagliai (above), found a bank foundation, the Ente Cassa di Risparmio, as a partial sponsor in the rebirth of the Niccolini.  Knowing that the box office receipts from 406 seats plus boxes of a theatre prose season would probably not cover costs, he decided to turn the
Niccolini into a "multipurpose cultural space."

Sounds like a man with vision.

In the 2 1/2 months of its newfound existence, the Teatro Niccolini has hosted a designer's event during Florence Fashion Week, a concert, and a performance of traditional and contemporary dance marking the close of the Korea Film Festival.  Sunday evening chamber concerts, regularly held in 

Teatro della Pergola's intimate Saloncino, have found a new home.  Starting in May, to avoid waiting in lines, from 9 am - 5 pm, visitors to the Cathedral complex and museum have the option of viewing a video that provides background information on the landmarks.  A bookshop and a café have been added to the ground floor.

Next door is a modest trattoria/pizzeria, which has been there for many years.  The "Buca," in the title means that it is underground, probably in a former wine cellar.  During my first year in Florence, in the '80s, I had a pizza there with my friend Marjorie Coeyman, who was working towards her masters at Florence's Middlebury College study center.

I remember Marjorie and I discovering pizza "capricciosa" (capricious pizza, a tomato base topped with a mixture of mozzarella, artichoke hearts, baked ham and mushrooms as well as the "quattro stagioni," which had the same ingredients neatly divided neatly into four sections.  I believe that I ordered the former and  Marjorie the latter, which surely reflected our personalities.
We did not go downstairs, but dined on the streetfront patio.

Although I enjoyed the pizza, for now I never managed to go back.  There will surely be an opportunity given the upcoming program at the Teatro Niccolini.

I initially meant to post this blog entry the weekend immediately following the re-opening, specifically after a Saturday afternoon meeting at Florence's La Repubblica.  When I arrived at 5 pm, the meeting was postponed.  "We are in the midst of covering a murder of an American --
 do you know her?" I was asked.

I did not personally know Ashley Olsen, although she was to change my life.  Two days later I was asked to write a story on the case that was posted on the homepage of the national Repubblica web site  -- a first for a piece in English, by a American no less.
This led to five days of coverage on my part, relaunching my international career.

And the Niccolini?  When would I write about the Niccolini?

You see, I had a second chance, during a weekend highlighting death and resurrection.

Below is a perspective from the seat where Paolo Poli sat on opening night, representing 3 1/2 centuries of passionate "theatre," reborn and destined to live on, portraying the dramas and comedies of life.

Happy Easter/ Buona Pasqua!

--reporting live from Beautiful Florence

                                                                 -- Rosanna

A Florence 2015 Christmas Card

Your Beautiful Florence blogger returned from an eventful trip from the south of Italy regarding family matters on December 18, and on the morning of the 19th, attended a press conference connected with the Uffizi.  The event was to present Florence's annual Christmas gift, a free exhibition called "The Never Seen" (I Mai Visti) with works coming from the gallery's storerooms.

This year's theme, the mythological and archetypal story of Hercules as portrayed in sculpture and paintings from the Roman times to the 17th century, was gorgeous but apart from the gemlike glow of some of the pigments, not particularly in synch with the season.  The event, however, was the prelude of my discovery of Beautiful Florence's 2015 Christmas card.

Drinks and finger food were offered to the journalists on the Uffizi terrace.

The medieval Palazzo Vecchio, loomed nearby--the building seemed so close that one could almost reach out and touch the stonework. 

Finished at the end of the 13th century, Palazzo Vecchio, originally called the Palazzo dei Priori, was constructed as the headquarters of the Florentine republic.  Half fortress, half city hall, it was the seat of a European powerhouse--by the 1290s Florence was one of Europe's five largest cities, with a population of about 100,000.  Commerce and a booming textile industry also made it one of Europe's wealthiest.  The rich merchants and nobles who governed Florence (has much changed eight centuries later?) wanted a building that would communicate the power of their republic, governed at that time by the Florentine people.

After the respite in the tepid winter sun, to exit, I had to walk down an endless corridor encompassing half of the Uffizi.  Chronologically organized according to theme, I stumbled upon Room 71 (of 93!!)

My feet were beginning to feel weary, but however, the rich collection of paintings beckoned me to stop and look.

Then, I saw it.

Correggio's Madonna and Child Between Two Angel Musicians (1515-16).

Antonio Allegri da Correggio (from Correggio, a town in nearby region of Emilia) created this work early in his career.  The background is pure gold, a throwback to earlier Italian primitive  fondo oro masterpieces without a realist background; here, however, the figures are completely naturalistic.
Correggio's birthplace was absorbed into the Duchy of Modena, a sweeter, gentler place than Florence, also evidence by the local cuisine.  The artist Correggio's depiction of the Madonna and Child is, in fact, tender.  The lessons of the Renaissance are evident in the play of light and shadow (chiaroscuro), as seen in the left angels's wing with the lighting obscured by Mary's veil.

Correggio worked at the court of Mantua, which place a great emphasis on music.  When looking at the painting, on can almost hear the celestial Christmas music from the harp and violin.

The Madonna and Child Between Two Angel Musicians is believed to have belonged to the last Medici ruler, Anna Maria Luisa, who prized it so much that she took it with her when she left Florence to marry a German prince.  Upon his death, it returned to the city, and later became part of the Uffizi collection that she willed to Florence for posterity.


Mary is wearing a robe of dark pink rose draped in lapis lazzuli, the Child reaches toward an angel, other-worldly seraphim adore from above and below, sense of stillness and peace pervades all in a precious setting of gold.

Light, color and sound, beauty and balance: 
a Child is born this day.

Buon Natale from
Beautiful Florence
                  -- Rosanna

Nov. 2015 in Florence: Pope Francis & the Paris Tragedy

     It was a little over a week ago, although it seems an eternity given what happened in Paris immediately afterwards, that Pope Francis visited Florence.  Like a rock star, the Pope arrived in a helicopter which landed in nearby Prato, an industrial city where he publicly condemned the problem of thousands of illegal Chinese immigrants who are employed in textile factory sweatshops.  

     Another helicopter ride and he was in Florence, where he had lunch at the Caritas soup kitchen staffed by volunteers.  Pope Francis was served the simple, yet hearty, meal of the day given to the poor on the usual plastic plate, with plastic utensils. After an after-lunch siesta in the Curia headquarters, he visited the newly renovated, state-of-the art Cathedral museum and then went to the Florence stadium in the Popemobile.  Here Sua Sanctità (as Italians call him) is in Piazza del Duomo, Florence's cathedral square, in the company of Cardinal Betori.

At the stadium he said, "I would like the Church not to rest easy but rather be anxious, in order to get close to the those whose are abandoned, forgotten and imperfect.  I would like the Church to have the face of a mother, who understands, accompanies and caresses.  I would like you to share the same dream of a Church just like this, to believe in it and be able to innovative in complete freedom."

  The aura of peace that Pope Francis left Florence (even traffic jams disappeared for a day) was shattered by the Friday the 13th massacre of innocent civilians in Paris clubs and restaurants.  But (who knows!) his words helped to inspire the gesture decided by Florence's city council pictured below:

the open-air copy of Michelangelo's David, that ultimate symbol of freedom wearing a black armband with the French flag draped at his feet.

  This strong message from David can be seen in front of city hall in front of 

Palazzo Vecchio, Piazza Signoria.

The photo of the Pope is by faithful Beautiful Florence blog photographer Cathleen Guerrero.

Reporting live from Beautiful Florence -- Rosanna

The Tuscan Summer of 2015 & 1944

Today is August 11, marking the 72nd anniversary of Florence & Tuscany's liberation from Nazi and Fascist forces thanks to the efforts of the Allies who proceeded northward from Rome, aided by local partigiani (Italian resistance fighters).  

2015 is also the hottest Tuscan summer since records were kept, with daytime temperatures hitting 102°F.  

Even for a die-hard beach aficionado like me,

the heat was too much to head to the coast on weekends.

I abandoned my spot under a beach umbrella 

(left) along the Mediterranean, and began to dream of a picture I published in the magazine Vista, Florence & Tuscany.  Taken by my work soul mate Andrea Pistolesi, it depicted a waterfall somewhere near the Tuscan border with 

Emilia Romagna.

That picture haunted me.  An alternative image popped into my mind's eye: a cool, clear river I bathed in many years ago.  With only my memory to go on, I decided to find it, and to return.

In the search, friends Erin (mother of a toddler and six months pregnant), husband Chris and myself, took a trip back to the tumultuous liberation of Tuscany as well as to the timeless beauty of the countryside.

I called old friend, Andrea Politi, remembering having been invited to a convivial lunch at his family country home near Pelago, and indeed, he identified the river as the Vicano, which follows its course close by, eventually flowing into the Arno.

One Sunday morning, Erin, little Elise, Chris and myself went up to the mountain pass of the Consuma (3000 ft), hosting a village renowned for its schiacciata, the Tuscan variant of the focaccia, which comes topped or filled with a choice of vine-ripened tomatoes, porcini mushrooms from the local woods, onions, ham, cheese etc.  We had a mid-morning merenda (snack), accompanied by espresso, but had so enjoyed our authentic Italian moment in a non-touristy location that we neglected to take pictures.

Chris drove us down the mountain to an altitude of 1500 ft, to Diacceto, where we made a turn-off to Ferrano.  As per Andrea's directions, Chris drove to the end of paved road, and continued to on a dirt road (strada bianca) to the end, until we saw a small chapel.

"This is Andrea's property!," I said, and indeed later on he confirmed that that his rustic country home and chapel were originally part of a larger estate and that his ancestors were originally tenant farmers.

It was Erin who spotted the plaque on the house first.

It says that a Jewish family found refuge within its walls thanks to the big-heartedness of Giuseppe Politi, Andrea's father.  Their lives were saved in the wilderness of Ferrano, and the marker commemorates this fact for posterity.

"They were the Navarro family from Rome," Andrea told us later, "who had friends in Diacceto, just down the road, on the way to Pelago."

It was Andrea's late father, a partisan fighter known as
Braccioforte (Strong Arm) who sheltered them.  He headed a group of 200 men, the Perseo brigade, who sabotaged the German's mean's of communications and routes, also to help defend the
local population.

In retaliation, the Nazis rounded up 19 locals, including women and children, who were the victims of a massacre.  For their anti-Nazi and anti-Fascist stance and actions, the village of Pelago was awarded a silver medal at WW2's end.

The house itself is from the 1700s, a quintessential slice of true Tuscany.

Andrea's sister lives here in the summer, while Andrea himself and wife Nicole, of Polish-Jewish heritage whom he met on a trip to Paris, arrive from Florence on the weekends.

After a picnic lunch among the olive groves, it was time to find the river.

Indeed refreshing, but only one to three ft. deep because of the drought, alas! we did not go swimming.

Sitting on cool rocks, we put our legs and feet in.  The Vicano indeed pristine as the nature surrounding it, and full of fish and crayfish.  NB:  from a subsequent Internet search, I discovered that the place to bathe in the Vicano river is at Fontisterni, several miles away, where German tourists have been even reported to dive in the river's pools recklessly headfirst.

Another memory flooded in my head: that of a stone church dating back from 1100 CE (or AD).

Andrea obliged us and led the way in his vintage Vespa scooter, from 1984.

Isn't it a beauty?

As timeless as the original Fiat 500.

In any case, we were traveling in a red Opel Corsa, half-German, half U.S. General Motors car, bought new in

1996.

It was an uphill drive -- great for a spring or fall hike -- but now I was glad to be in the car.

Suddenly, after parking, we were in the presence of a perfectly preserved stone Romanesque church.

Its antiquity is testified to by the open bell tower and the
single rose window.

The church's name is Santa Maria a Ferrano

(St. Mary of Ferrano), and is located at 1800 ft.  For the record, it was built in the 11th century, and belonged to the Albizi family

(my office in Florence happens to be on Borgo degli Albizi, and the descendants of the family still live in the Renaissance section of the palazzo).

Santa Maria a Ferrano has been more or less abandoned since 1574, occasionally serving as a barn, before becoming recuperated by a religious community headed by a German monk.  He has apparently taken to Italian habits and was away on vacation.

Hence the door was locked.

Years ago, once inside, I saw a wood beam ceiling and a ray of setting sun come in through the bare rose window, to strike the stone altar.
Indelible memory.

This is the view of the hills around Ferrano and Santa Maria a Ferrano, woods filled with chestnut, beech and fir trees.

Driving back, I saw a sign for Rufina, which provided an adventure for the following weekend for me, Erin & family:  a visit to Petrognano, a farm bed-and-breakfast w/pool (we swam at last!) belonging to friends Enrico Lagorio of the La Toraia Chianina burger food truck fame, and his wife Antonella.

Here Chris, Erin and Elise are going into lunch and meeting another family.

In a twist of fate, Petrognano is situated right below Pomino, which was for centuries an Albizi wine estate.  The family coat-of-arms still graces the then (19th century) innovative white wine blend, Pomino Bianco.

It would appear that I have a karmic link with this historic Florentine family, although my family is originally (and proudly) from the hills of Lucania, province of Matera, near Pollino.

As for me and Andrea, as pictured, we continue the long trail of our friendship.

It dates back to when I first arrived in Beautiful Florence as a young girl, when I became friends with his neighbor, Mariangela Bortolani, introduced to me by art historians Lucia Monaci Moran and Gordon Moran.  Older than us -- I  learned during our adventure that Andrea was born to Bracciaforte (Strong Arm) and his wife at the beginning of peacetime, the end of 1945.

He has always been to Mariangela, an art conservator who is from the mountains of Emilia and who would probably recognize Andrea Pistolesi's waterfall photo -- and I,
nothing less than a Tuscan big brother.

    Reporting live-- 

                                    Rosanna

Italian Health Care & A Personal Resurrection

Today is Easter, and with no disrespect intended to Christ, I would like to write about a personal resurrection in part engineered by the Italian nationalized health care system (free for everyone, even tourists, no need for insurance).

This year, I was one of the many laid low by a particularly nasty form of flu.  Laid low is a compliment, knocked out is a better description.  It started as a cold and stuffed sinuses and progressed from there.  I had to take a cab home from work after emailing La Repubblica -- for whom I write a column -- 

that I was ill.

The next morning, with practically no voice, I called my family M.D., Dr. Carlo Ressel (pictured above in his office at Due Strade).  He is available for phone consultations twice a day -- again at no charge.  When he heard me croaking, Dr. Ressel immediately asked if I had a fever (Italians are obsessed with la febbre as a symptom).  I don't think so, I replied.  "I will be in your neighborhood tomorrow afternoon, and if I don't see you at the clinic, I will make a house call," was his reply.

In Italy, a house call doesn't cost a dime.

The next day, despite chills, aches and pains, I managed to get dressed and walk down the block to his office.   He examined me and again asked if I had had a fever.  "Well, I don't know," I replied.

"I couldn't find the thermometer, and really....I don't get this bit about sticking it under the armpit 

like everyone here does and not in my mouth.  

Plus, the temperature is in Centigrade or Celsius, not Fahrenheit."

Ressel laughed and proceeded to measure it.  Despite his name, he is indeed an Italian 

-- a Florentine he would specify -- M.D.  

He is descended from Josef Ressel, of Austrian-Czech origin, who emigrated to Trieste and invented both the ship propeller and steamship.  His great-grandson has inherited Josef's love of the sea.
 On duty 11 months a year, Dr. Carlo Ressel takes a month's vacation
(as all Italians did pre-recession)

in July on the island of Elba.  As state-subsidized health care is available year-round,
a substitute takes his place.

Here and now, he told me to come back in a few days and wrote a prescription.  

As in most clinics in Italy, the pharmacy is practically next door.

Well, I believe in natural remedies and holistic medicine but I was in no shape to go to downtown Florence.  I was grateful for what I was given (above), which helped me greatly, along with throat remedies and the Italian version of Vicks Vaporub.

After displaying my tessera sanitaria (Italian national health care card), I pulled out my wallet.

Guess what?  I didn't pay anything, not a single euro.
 I turned the above box around and read (as the gentle reader can see)

Confezione dispensata dal SSN -- medicine courtesy of the Servizio Sanitaria Italiana

--the Italian Health Care System.  

I will take that over an HMO or Blue Cross any day.

After spending three more days in bed, somewhat better, with a hint of appetite returning,

I had breakfast on Monday morning and returned to the office.

Despite the fact I had sent an article to Repubblica written by a collaborator, 

I noticed the old column was still online.  There was only one possible thing to do:

invent an option.  I communicated this via email, specifying that I wasn't completely well,

and astonishingly (my editor is rarely in contact, simply too busy)

received this reply:

"Ciao Rosanna, just tell us what we can put.  A big hug.

lm" (= Laura Montanari)

Thanks to to that message, I entered into a quiet interior space.

It reminded me of 20 years ago, when I wrote a column for the print version of Florence's La Repubblica, that I reported for work once more with the flu, this time with a fever.  I sought a free computer, and found one, next to executive editor Claudio Giua's office,
 at the desk of the late Paolo Vagheggi.

Again, I was in the eye of the storm, the tempest being a deadline I was really too ill to meet.

I went beyond time and space and did it in just under two hours.

Fast forward to the present, then as now, I made it.

The next day, again in bed, with Arlene, the faithful Filippino cleaner (since '96!) hovering over me instead of ironing, the congratulatory phone calls began.

The column I wrote in a comatose yet calm state was a huge success:

http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2015/02/16/news/a_special_florence_museum_week-107477880/

All I needed to do was be.

Well, I had managed to get home the day not by cab but on my own power.

Luckily, I didn't need an ambulance.  And -- guess what -- if

I had (like this one pictured above at the Santa Maria Nuovo hospital close to my office)

it, too, is FREE.  The vehicle is supplied by the Italian health care system.  The drivers and paramedics -- all specially trained -- belong to a completely volunteer ambulance service,

the Misericordia (literally: mercy or compassion for others in misery, to be helped with heart).

The Misericordia had been helping the the sick and injured in Tuscany since the times of the plague,

that is, 1244.  

But that's another story.

Reporting live from Beautiful Florence

                                             -- Rosanna

85 Years at Casa dei Tessuti

It's Christmastime and everyone loves a party.  But what are those bolts of fabric doing behind the
hors d'oeuvres?  As a tailor's daughter who appreciates fabric, without ever learning to sew, I was glad to be invited to the 85th anniversary bash of Florence's House of Fabrics,
Casa dei Tessuti, on via de'Pecori,
along with faithful blog photographer Lakota Gamill.

This is one of the window displays with an alluring evening gown
made from one of the bolts of fabric displayed within the shop and for sale.
Any takers for New Year's?

Even the unsuspecting visitor could see that tradition reigns at the Casa dei Tessuti.

These are present-day representatives of the militia of the glorious Republic of Florence, hired for the
celebration to welcome guests.  Normally they are on duty during city ceremonies as well as for the
parade preceding the yearly Calcio Storico (in semifinals and finals, representatives from four Florentine neighborhood compete against each other in a Renaissance sport combining rugby, soccer and occasional brute violence).

Casa dei Tessuti was founded in 1929 by Egisto Romoli.  His sons Romano and Romolo Romoli still run the shop today. The brothers believe that the store is carrying on the tradition of Florence's glorious Wool and Silk Guilds.  Artisan guilds were so important to Florence that delegates from each formed the ruling city council during the medieval times in the republic that eventually gave way to three centuries of control by the Medici family.

Above left is Romano Romoli next to Kathy Knippel, director of Studio Fuji Art Studio, a Florence school of textile design, silkscreening and fashion. She created the soft sculpture above the antique cash register depicting the workers of the wool guild and gave it the Casa dei Tessuti as a gift.

Romano's father, Egisto, decreed that all the personnel hired by Casa Tessuti for posterity would be men.  So it was, and continues to be: to the right is Andrea Spulcioni, who accepted an offer of employment at the shop at the tender age of 15, in 1974.

"I have seen the world without leaving Florence," says Andrea. "I've served the queens of Holland and Denmark, Bedouins in their native dress, bejeweled women with no credit left on their cards, and people who appeared down and out (straccioni, literally: dressed in tatters: Maybe they needed a new wardrobe!) who purchased 7,000 euro worth of fabric." Buying habits have changed, he notes, the locals who would make small purchases have diminished, giving way to the "well-to-do tourist who spend a bundle and takes away bundles and bundles."

All have the option to have clothes made to measure by tailors and seamstresses.  My father would have been content.

My heart-sister, Mary Louise, calls me "the hand," for my ability to touch and assess fabrics and textiles, my father's legacy.  Well, "the hand," reached out to touch cashmere, wool, alpaca, linen, cotton in addition to silk prints, gorgeous brocades and damasks.

The store carries original fabrics by Valentino, Ungaro, Dior, Pucci and Cavalli

as well as textiles inspired by the designs of Chanel.
My heart-sister recalls, on a visit to Florence, that Romano showed her
a small swatch of "fabric"
made with woven peacock feather strands.

On a more modest note, Andrea is especially proud of the selection of
English fabrics and genuine Scottish tweeds,

including Harris tweed, which, because of the loom, can be no wider than 70 cm (27 1/2 inches).

I asked Andrea why Egisto preferred to have men only at the service of customers.
"He believed that a women could not, in complete honesty, advise another woman on the choice of fabric and color.  Egisto felt there was always a touch of
hidden jealousy in dealings between the gentle sex.
Since men and women are not competitive in regards to fashion, a man can be counted on to be completely honest on what best suits a client."

I wonder what Egisto would have thought of his grandson Alessandro, Romano's son, and his companion Sibilla,
who are pictured below with the celebratory anniversary cake.

Rest in peace, Egisto, for again in keeping with tradition, Sibilla has set foot in Casa dei Tessuti to participate in 85th anniversary bash; career-wise she is a Florence tour guide.

At present, Alessandro flanks Andrea in customer care.  He will carry the fabrics and unmuted, unchanging tradition of the Casa dei Tessuti into the future.

Reporting live from Beautiful Florence

      -- Rosanna