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The Florentine
Useful resources about life in Florence, Italy, focusing on the international community.
‘This little pig went to market…’ is the premise of Nancy Shroyer Howard’s engaging Mischief in Tuscany: Running Wild in a Famous Painting. When a Cinta Senese pig with an ...
Fiera, a new children’s book written by Annamaria Sbisa and illustrated by Michela Petoletti, brings to life the beauty and whimsy of Ferragamo’s silk scarves and introduces young readers to Florence. Six playful creatures are aboard a hot air balloon sailing with no evident destination,
Florentine actress, writer and vintner, Natalia Giucciardini Strozzi was recently confirmed as a descendant of the Mona Lisa. She is the daughter of Prince Girolamo Giucciardini Strozzi and Irina Reine. Her ...
Trained at Harvard, professor Rab Hatfield taught at Yale for five years before coming to Florence to head the Art History Department at Syracuse University. The majority of his research deals with Renaissance art, with a particular emphasis on Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci. His books include The Riches of
In a country where food must always be served at the right time and temperature, I find Sunday brunch the easiest way to entertain. I say this for two simple reasons. First, I am a morning person who makes a mean pancake. Second, the prospect of serving pasta to al
‘Arrangiarsi or the ability to ‘arrange oneself’ is all about overcoming obstacles. Italians love to jump fences, and they do it with an agile grace that people from Anglo-cultures can ...
Watch how people share secrets and you’ll discover the things they are trying to hide. Learn how a country exchanges confidences and you’ll uncover the cornerstone of social rapport. Italians may be known to the world as free-speaking, overly expressive individuals, but in
Giovanna Ferrer was once the director of International Public Relations for Salvatore Ferragamo, drove a sports car, and lived in the centre of Florence. Since then she moved on to ...
It was only the third day of the New Year and I had already decided that I was not going to write a single word until the end of the next century. When I am struck by that particular form of self-pity known as ‘writer’s block,&
Traditionally the children of Italy anxiously await a visit from another figure, La Befana, hanging up their stockings on January 6, the Feast of Epiphany, rather than Christmas Eve.
It was an eerily sunny day in December and my friend Silvia and I were weaving our way to the park with the greenhouse. Her daughter Sofia had a play-date and we were, of course, late. As we dragged the poor child by the cuff through the whizzing traffic
Today I’m waging a silent war against a blank page and an enemy expression that has yet to reveal itself. It is Saturday and, gratefully, the office is quiet. Most of the theatre troupe that makes this newspaper have all trooped home to their weekend stage-plays. The
The Contessa is married to an Italian count and has lived in Italy for over 33 years. In 1998, she started Friends of Florence, a non-profit foundation that raises money to preserve Florence’s artistic legacy. The organization has raised millions of dol-lars to fund major
Once upon a time there was a grandmother who loved Italy. She wanted her young grandson to learn to love its culture and people as she did. So she bought him two books: Everyday Life in Ancient Rome and Everyday Life in the Renaissance. Back home she had a closer
I have just spent the entire afternoon dumping the contents of my drawers into cardboard boxes. I found them crushed on aisle seven at the Coop this morning and spent the better part of an hour trying to tape them into squares again. Now that the boxes are almost full,
During my Venetian years, I lived in a crumbling, 16th-century apartment whose best ‘room’ was the terrace on the top floor. I was up there one afternoon mopping— something I did on rare occasions for the sole purpose of keeping my neighbour lady happy. She and
Martina and I piled into an already crowded café in hopes of a corner table. Once a month we meet there to talk, sip cappuccino, and perhaps jot a line or two in our 'Be Bohemian’ notebooks. We were actually both quite busily writing, when someone at the
Giorgio Moro was admittedly very relieved to be walking me home. The night had been a terrible bore, he said. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really deny it. I had spent our entire dinner picking his brain for an Italian expression that might please me. ‘Too much to say&
