There is jewelry, and then there is jewelry. On a flying visit to Florence, Italy, last week, you are confronted with the usual groaning display of glittery gold on the Ponte Vecchio—and please don’t get me wrong, I love this stuff—but then there is the heart-stopping high jewelry presented by Cartier, at their Le Voyage Recommence fandango, which of course is the reason for the trip in the first place.
Who can deny the pleasures of Florence and its spectacular Renaissance architecture—big lines at the Uffizi, so we’ll catch Venus’s birth next time; a quick wave to Michelangelo’s David (he’s a replica anyway…) It’s a town made for walking. In less that 10 minutes you can travel from Caffe Gilli, the site of the famous photograph, “American Girl in Florence,” to Humana, a Florentine version of Goodwill where everything is around 15 euros (but alas, looks it). Or set off in the opposite direction to the 800-year-old Santa Maria de Novella—far more than an apothecary, where your friend buys the tobacco soap, but you are so overwhelmed by the wealth of lotions and potions that you get nothing.
Cartier saves the best for last. Leading up to the unveiling of the high jewelry is a sunset cocktail the night before at the Antinori Winery. A triumph of modernism, the building was designed by Marco Casamonti, and you arrive from deep underground—my ear pops—to a stunning vista where you are served a menu comprising ravioli, risotto, and tiramisu—three words I know in Italian. So delicious, so chic, but no jewelry until tomorrow!
The next day bright and early I pile into the car—each and every Cartier guest has his or her own driver, a luxury that is impossible to overpraise, and head an hour and a half out of town to Lucca, to the newly restored 19th century Villa Reale di Marlia, the former residence of Napoleon’s sister Elisa.
Seventy-eight pieces of glorious high jewelry are on display here, in flower-festooned chambers lit by dazzling chandeliers. Cherubin dance on the ceilings: the vitrines showcase blockbusters in unexpected combinations of hue and stone, making this jewelry, despite its rarified pedigree, modern and fun. Why not enmesh a pair of Zambian emeralds in a bed of turquoise and diamonds? Who says you can’t mix diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds in an extravagant Tutti-Frutti suite? A 54-carat Ceylon sapphire necklace is actually practical: the pendant detaches—wear it as a brooch!—so you can simplify things with a mere sapphire-and-yellow gold chain. The above are all jaw-dropping, but I have more modest tastes—can I please have the little glyptic-carved black jade panther reclining on a diamond branch and brandishing a rubellite drop? I promise I will wear it every day.
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