Hotel Lungarno

‘Elegance and comfort are not incompatible, and whoever maintains the contrary simply doesn’t know what he’s talking about’. Shoe designer to the stars Salvatore Ferragamo might have been talking about high heels but, bouncing around our suite at Hotel Lungarno, it's a joy to see that his design principles ring true throughout the family hotel business. 

Moments beforehand, after a bumpy taxi ride through the hubbub of the largely pedestrianised city, we arrived at the hotel to a heart-warming Italian welcome and three sweet words any weary traveller is happy to hear: ‘we upgraded you.’ Our River View Studio Suite is the epitome of Italian elegance with a Juliet balcony suspended over the River Arno. The vista is magical and Mr Smith is slightly star-struck, or rather ‘sight-struck’, by our front-row view of Florence’s blockbuster bridge, the legendary Ponte Vecchio. 

So, after testing our Lavazza coffee machine, and admiring the ginormous bed, crisp linens, plush velvet sofa and marble bathroom, we peel ourselves away in pursuit of fresh air and famous frescos. Both mine and Mr Smith’s first time in Firenze, with just 36 hours to do the place justice. So the plan is this: to see as much and eat as much as humanly possible. The city is tightly packed and easy to wander on foot, so off we amble, in the vague direction of the orange-tiled crown of the Duomo, a beacon in the blue skies above. 

Our first stop is Borgo Antico, a trattoria that comes highly recommended by our genial concierge as a top spot to people-watch whilst tucking into Tuscan specials. One carafe of Montepulciano later and we’re about to take down a seared Tomahawk steak as big as our table, with a tasty panzanella salad on the side. 

After lunch we weave our way across the piazza to Gelateria della Passera where the list of organic gelatos on offer is almost as long as the queue outside the Uffizi. After much umming, ahhing and onerous decision-making I get my lips around their fig and ricotta gelato. Ice cream will never be the same again. 

Florence has a mighty big checklist of must-dos: galleries, gardens, museums and palaces that keep tourists coming back in their droves. But we opt for a more casual approach to exploring and lose hours in the tangle of romantic cobbled streets, gazing into palazzo courtyards, colourful artisan workshops and candle-lit chapels that have barely been touched since Dante’s days. 

As aperitivo hour strikes, we duck into La Ménagère 1896, originally Firenze’s first homeware shop and now, over a century later, an enchanting home to an experimental florist, chi-chi shop, industrial restaurant and basement jazz bar. Forget any fusty impressions of Florence, the vibe here is more Shoreditch hipster-hangout.

Before we turn in for the evening we settle into a cosy corner of the Lungarno lounge for a riverside cocktail. In the heart of the city and within reaching distance of the Arno beneath us we feel lucky to have the perfect nightcap nook just a flight of stairs away from our marshmallowy bed. The lounge bar, like the rest of the hotel, is luxurious and stately without being OTT. The family love of Firenze, and of art, is apparent everywhere; more than 400 artworks fill the 63-room hotel. Original Picasso and Cocteau masterpieces hold court in the eponymous PicTeau Lounge. 

All self-respecting culture vultures and city-breakers know that Florence is the birthplace of the Renaissance – but how many know it’s the birthplace of the Negroni too? Well I certainly do (now), and it turns out they don’t get more creative than the selection at the Lungarno. I bypass the curious-sounding sage and coffee infusions, opting instead for an Earl Grey number that arrives in a teacup complete with dehydrated Campari teabag.  

Come morning my Earl Grey is void of any alcohol but that’s probably for the best as we’re again heeding the advice of our wise concierge and scampering out to the Uffizi before brekkie to dodge the queues. Straight through the doors as they open for the day, we’re giddy with excitement at having the place almost to ourselves. It might be morning but it all feels rather Night at the Museum. We make a beeline for the Botticelli’s hoping to get a glimpse before the hordes arrive. The Birth of Venus is the real crowd-pleaser and we’re early enough to have a moment alone with the goddess of love. 

Caravaggio, Michelangelo, Donatella – after a morning power walk around Italy’s greatest art gallery we return to the Lungarno ravenous and primed to really enjoy the bountiful hotel breakfast. Inspired by the Italian charm of the 1950s, the restaurant walls are adorned with fashion sketches and photographs of Salvatore Ferragamo in his Hollywood heydays. 

As we admire the artworks an impeccably-presented waiter checks in on us, topping up our indulgent morning mimosas and equipping us with a few insider tips for the day ahead. It’s true that Salvatore found fame as a prodigious shoemaker but I can happily confirm that the Ferrgamo family certainly know how to do hospitality too.