Finding Venus… In the Hills Above Florence. And Pondering Where Luxury Truly Lies.
For anyone who read my article on the trips I was dreaming of most for 2026, you’ll know that visiting Florence, and more specifically the Uffizi Gallery, was high on my bucket list for my 40th year. And I made it - exactly one week before 41 found me. (I’ve been running, but it seems I can’t hide.) And that meant a very hot weekend in July.
In an ideal world I would have planned this trip for May or September, but other (fun) things got in the way, so in very brave spirit we decided to forge ahead just in time for my birthday, and prepared ourselves for some spicy temperatures.
Usually when we do a city break I have learned to always choose a hotel right in the thick of it - and yes, the hotel is the trip - not just somewhere to lay your head. For me it’s just as much a part of the experience as anything - and every city has iconic names and memorable stays in their own right.
For this one I had a list of places that felt the most Florentine, hotels that are just as much a part of the city as the city is a part of them. From the St. Regis to the Four Seasons, Helvetia & Bristol to Il Tornabuoni, and of course the local Ferragamo-founded Lungarno Collection, home to the growing portfolio of Portrait hotels. But the July weather, and a rather inspiring Condé Nast Gold List inclusion, drew me out of town towards Fiesole, and the stunning 15th-century villa of Il Salviatino. A more perfect Tuscan immersion you couldn’t hope for, complete with transcendent views of the grand dame Duomo herself, decorative gardens, luscious frescoes, and a countryside swimming pool for a cooling dip. It was the dream.
Over two nights and three days we shuttled into town in the evening and morning and retreated for the burning afternoons - and every time we wound up that driveway it felt like coming home. Always greeted with a warm welcome, big Italian smiles, and inquisitive questions about where we had been and what we had done. It felt personal, it felt memorable, it felt comforting, and it felt like real luxury. The living room felt like ours, the decor felt like someone mulled over it for days, weeks, and years so that everything was perfectly selected and perfectly placed (and I believe they really did), the gorgeous squared bar felt like we could step behind it and fix ourselves a cocktail, and the terraces felt like we could linger happily as long as the heat allowed.
On arrival we had a lunch facing Firenze that was divine. Our junior suite was sumptuous (although we missed out on the Duomo view - I won’t make that mistake again), and we had the kind of bed that you go to hotels for. In town we learned how to saber a bottle of Franciacorta at the St Regis, we saw the sun go down over the River Arno, we took the stairs to Loggia Roof Bar (another mistake I won’t make again) and ate truffle flan and wild boar ragu at Osteria del Cinghiale Bianco. And the next morning we returned to find Venus.
After some confusion with tickets (and a very Italian booking system - am I the only one?) we thronged through crowds in search of the goddess of love. And boy was she sublime. We clamoured for a view, took a rake of requisite photos, and soaked up the Renaissance just as the Medici (and Botticelli) intended. What an era, what a picture, what a feeling of being taken to another time and another place. Florence itself felt like the set of a painting, wrapped in richness and glossed over with a legacy built on cultivating culture and beauty. A devotion to flourishing, as the name suggests.
We walked a little way out of the centre to lunch at Cibrèo Caffè in Sant’Ambrogio - a small enclave of town held up by Cibrèo with a café, trattoria, restaurant, and venue of the same name all housed in this corner of Firenze. We sampled three pasta dishes including their famous tagliolini with cacio e burro, and wanted desperately to fit in more. That evening we had aperitivo at Gucci Giardino and delicious wine and Florentine t-bone steak in the palazzo at Cantinetta Antinori. And all with our first-born four-legged bestie Biscuit, who was welcomed in true Italian style (along with my handbags who were given their own seat) everywhere we went (bar the Uffizi when he was left at ‘home’ in Il Salviatino).
On our last afternoon, after a morning spent replenishing at the pool overlooking the abundant landscape, we decided to take the pilgrimage to Villa San Michele for a final hurrah. Our front desk called, the table was confirmed for all three of us, and up the hill we went. We were met with a flurry of porters and doormen, as we stood mesmerised by the imposing façade and otherworldly view. It was a lot to take in. Was it a relatively polite welcome? Yes. Was it a warm one? No. I have stayed in and dined at other Belmonds and had unforgettable experiences. This one was for all the wrong reasons.
After a lot of quizzing and calls to the restaurant about the time of our reservation (which had been made for 2:30pm, although it seems the last lunch sitting is officially 2:15pm) at the entrance to the hotel, we were finally permitted to enter the building. We were led through the beautiful lobbies, opulent spaces, and impeccably designed lounges to the restaurant terrace where you could catch glimpses of Florence from a great height through the original monastic arches. And stopped again. For the first time in Italy, no dogs were allowed, which had not been communicated. After some discussion we were shown to a very hot, very empty garden area, beautiful of course, but not what we planned. Eventually a kind restaurant manager took a look at our quiet, tiny pooch, and its well-heeled owners and agreed to seat us for the end of service. We ate, we drank, we were merry, we salvaged the experience, although with quiet disappointment, and I took the opportunity to explore the property and take in the hype for myself. It is undoubtedly stunning, but undoubtedly stiff. In some ways exactly as its original Franciscan forefathers might have intended.
This end to our trip made me think about what luxury really means. In a place formed by curiosity, passion, patronage, innovation, foresight, elegance, and style - with a dedication to creating wonder that has lived on for centuries - what does affluence, extravagance, and luxury really mean? And for me it was arriving at a place that was, and still is, meant to be someone’s home. How privileged is that to feel like you are living in a resurgence of splendour just for a weekend? At Villa San Michele everything looked perfect, at Il Salviatino it felt better. It felt individual. Maybe not as seamless in service, maybe not as many processes and procedures, maybe not as many people doing as many different things for their guests, but it felt like Italy, it felt like Florence, it felt like living in an era that we can only imagine, and every time it felt like coming home. And that, to me, is true luxury.
We had a similar experience last year at La Monastica in Buggiano Castello in Tuscany. A small boutique hotel, artfully designed, years in the making, with people who cared so much, and food we still think about. I love a big brand name as much as anyone, but I am learning to seek out these independent gems more and more.
