The Florence Files, June '26

For Today

Today is a long overdue edition of The Florence Files.

• An essay on becoming a more private person

• All my new favorites in the city – the best sushi, the best tacos, a hidden gem courtyard for aperitivo, a vintage bookstore, and a great café with great people watching, to name a handful

• All the new additions have been added to the Happy Hoteling in Florence Google Map, which is linked at the end of the post, the only thing under the paywall today

For Gauging Interest

No, those are surely not the only things in the works but things I’d like a temperature check on.

I’d also like to get an updated read on what you think about the For Consideration and For Consumption sections (absent today as they were present earlier in the week).

Happy Hoteling!

xMarissa

It’s about time, isn’t it?!

When I moved here, I thought I’d want to share it all with you all. I thought I would have a litany of Instagram Stories every day, and that I’d update you in writing here like I did in that first month of March 2025, before I had any visa whatsoever.

I’m truly a extroverted introvert – if you meet me in person I am anything but meek but I am also most at home in my inner world and I always have been. Last May, in the Aeolian Islands, I had this wave of realization that posting about and sharing my life in detail was good for my outer world but bad for my inner one. I find it a bit tasteless to whip out a tripod, or film myself in public. It adds to the ever-changing intangible, collective reality of a world that’s deeply entrenched in social media. When I was participating in that, I would innately view what was in front of me through a lens of possible captures. A walk through Florence would have stops in my pace every 45 seconds or so, changing a moment in my mind into an attractive content capture of it. I have absolutely no problem with others doing this or me doing it sometimes, but I realized that I always felt like I was interrupting my train of thought or forward inertia to document it, so I could essentially, show it off. I realized I would have lots of camera roll proof of what my eyes saw but I would have less immersive memories of moments if I continued this way.

As someone fortunately born with a good memory, I was altering the way I would look back on things. When I remember moments from the past, it’s a full picture – what it sounded like, what it felt like when the air hit my skin, what it smelled like, what I connected with, what I critiqued, and most of all, how I felt. Taking lots of iPhone photos had changed this a bit – I was losing some nuance of the full spectrum of emotions tied to any one memory. I guess I remembered the moment of actually taking the photo more than I remembered the actual just being part.

It’s abundantly obvious for any reader or follower of mine that I am a deeply nostalgic person, and that’s something I like about myself. I’m able to tap into childlike joy easily because I remember being a child so vividly.

In the hammock of Locanda del Postino in Salina last May, I thought about my favorite travel memories from my life. My favorite ones, those that I could recall with most clarity were rarely captured through on an iPhone, unless by accident. My favorite memories at hotels were also rarely captured, even though writing about them is my job.

I decided as I swung in the hammock, looking out at an infinite sea, that it was not necessary to live through a lens in order to do my job. At the end of the day, my main job is to write, which is not dependent on constant capture.

It’s not?! I grappled with this realization, someone who entered high school the year Facebook opened to non-college students, and who was in the middle of college when Instagram debuted. I had subconsciously programmed that one day, when I have an audience I will need to share it all. (Substack has released colored text, and what is new is novel!)

I realized that I felt a strange freedom when my phone would die. Yes, partly because I was unreachable to anyone besides whom I was with, but also because there was nothing to interrupt the inertia of one moment after another – the narrative of a day existing as it naturally would. I thought about all the times I’ve been somewhere in Italy with a fully dead phone and how much more vivid my memories were of those times. Sure, I didn’t have proof that I was there but, after all, I am not on trial. I need no proof – I have this insanely good memory despite taking Benadryl my entire life.

The things I did want photos of – the hotel itself, things that I felt compelled to capture in video so I could replay the sounds, and my outfits – I could still capture without being on a never-ending scouting trip because I now live in Italy.

So I stopped photographing every day. I continued to live in awe and excitement and frustration and anxiety with only a mental capture. I was shocked how much I loved the…anonymity? I don’t know if that’s the right word, but it most closely equates to how I feel internally.

I shared a bit of the beginning of this feeling about a year ago, but not the full breadth. I got DMs asking me to share more of my everyday life in Florence and it made me want to do so even less.

So for the last year, and especially since being back permanently with a new visa in March, I’ve shared almost nothing in real time. Instead, I chose days where I take my Leica out with me with the intention to photograph that day. Photographing is not the same as taking content, in my mind. Even untrained, it’s some form of art. This practice gave me a new habit for my iPhone – to the camera as a camera and not as a diary or proof of existence.

Dear readers, WHAT A JOY. A radical re-wiring, a powerful nervous system reset I didn’t expect. Now, I keep my phone in my purse and take it out with intention – like a camera. I have days where I naturally feel like stopping to metaphorically smell the flowers every few minutes and photograph it, but I’ve stopped forcing that to be every day. I take photos and videos of my outfits when it naturally comes to mind, instead of it being a daily box to tick.

For my first few weeks back I tried on sharing my private life on my Close Friends stories – dating and day-to-day trials and tribulations. I quickly realized I wish I would have kept most of the things fully to myself, as even on my Close Friends stories, I would distill the complexity of a thought or a moment into a run-on sentence and it didn’t feel really and truly true.

That has made me revel in something I thought I would never possess – mystery. The product has been big changes to my body – less anxiety, and most critically, and chronic illness flares that would last less long. I’ve forever struggled with what most humans do, perception, and specifically, if and when and how people could tell how I feel on any given day.

As a lifelong sick kid, I’ve come to realize over-sharing was a product of trying to influence a narrative of wellness. I did not predict that under-sharing would actually shift my reality towards actual wellness. I also did not predict that having less to be perceived on would make me even more curious about the world, which is my most prized possession. I do now know that for me, personally, over-sharing goes hand-in-hand with over-thinking, which is not fertile ground for true curiosity.

It turns out you can molt from an over-sharer to an under-sharer, just like I have finally learned to slow the f-ck down.

Knowing myself, sharing this now could totally be a catalyst to want to now suddenly share more, or it could not at all. Regardless, I finally understand the power of a private life and keeping things to yourself and giving the world less fodder for perception. I’m now living a different reality of an only child, one where I am not the main character in every scene but an active extra in each day.

When you do see me post on Instagram Stories, you’ll know that it was because I actually, actively felt like capturing that moment. You’ll know it was not crafted, nor curated, or over-thought. I don’t have the power to know what works for everyone, but this has proven to be the most sustainable way for me to be a content creator with the over-played trope of American in Italy.

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The majority of the time, I still frequent my favorite places that I’ve shared many times over and over again. It feels good to be a regular, and for people to know about and understand my allergies. And, I’ve become one lucky bitch who gets a discount at restaurants many reserve months in advance for.

BUT, I do have a handful of new favorites and discoveries worth sharing.

First is the best, best, beeeeest sushi in Florence, by far. Until I first went about a month and a half ago, I was really under the impression I would never really satisfy my craving for fantastic tuna sushi. We are not by the coast, after all. We are known for meat and beans.

Then the explore page on Instagram became useful, as I was dealt a post of sushi that actually looked like the real deal, with the caption stating it was a Japanese sushi chef. It was called Bentoro. I looked it up and it was, miraculously for me, an 8-minute walk from my apartment. But outside the historic center walls, in Campo di Marte, a direction I rarely turn towards except to dispose of my garbage. The restaurant is small and off the touristed track, which is its saving grace – I can arrive and sit at the sushi bar without calling ahead almost every time. The otoro, or fatty tuna, is genuinely among the best I’ve ever had. I now crave it like I craved Sugarfish for so long. The wakame salad is exactly how I like it – with multiple types of algae and not in a soup of sauce. The sushi rice is real sushi rice, a main gripe for many other restaurants in the city. The fish is always something that actually melts in your mouth, not just an adjective. There is never one hit of fishiness, which I despise as I’m allergic to all fish besides tuna so I do not have the palate for that. The sake is good and actually cold. I love, love this place.

Just around the corner is another gem, a place that I’d had on my personal Florence Google Map since last March, but had never been to previously because again, I rarely go into Campo di Marte. It’s called Bar Bar, and it has the most magical little outdoor courtyard that actually feels like a hidden gem without hyperbole. They open at six, which is so wonderful because I’ve come to prefer lunch being my heartiest meal and then enjoying a good aperitivo in the six-o-clock hour. They have tapas, bar snacks and little plates along with a cocktail menu, and it’s all so good. They also have a true menu for lunch and dinner, but I’ve yet to stay for a full meal. It’s a place that does not exist, almost at all, for tourism and I f-ing love it.

Both of these places are in the via Gioberti area – just outside the historic center from my neighborhood, Sant’Ambrogio.

My other favorite is…tacos. Yes, real, good tacos, even for a Californian and someone who’s spent a lot of time in Mexico. Tosco Tacos is right in the heart of my neighborhood, Sant’Ambrogio, helmed by an Italian guy who fell in love with Mexico and wanted to bring a piece of it home. Huge success. Everything is made in house and everything is good and really satisfies the craving for something not Italian. The salsas have the right spice. I get the carnitas tacos and, when available, the al pastor. It doesn’t taste like an Italian play on Mexican cuisine, it tastes like what their tagline is – the Mexican taqueria in Florence.

Now, beyond my immediate vicinity.

I’ve been on an unintentional hunt for a great shakerato in whatever part of the city I’m in. Two new fantastic additions to the rotation – Caffè Lietta and Giacosa (not new whatsoever, but new in my regular attendance).

Something I love about Venice and Bologna is the café culture under a loggia – it’s so cinematic regardless of circumstance. It feels so Italian, so communal, so much like a living room outdoors. Caffè Lietta is under a loggia in Piazza della Libertà, another area at the very perimeter, by Porta San Gallo – the northernmost point of the historic center of Florence. While there are tables inside, the glory is outside, in the tables under the loggia, where English is rarely spoken and a lot of old Pucci is frequently seen. They make a great shakerato, and they toast a toast (ham and cheese) just right, and they make a solid spritz for aperitivo. It’s the perfect place to go if you feel stifled by the tourism of the city.

Giacosa is the birthplace of the negroni. Yes, really! But I hate gin. I’m in it for the shakerato and the heavenly maritozzi, with not just fresh whipped cream but also creamy custard. It’s divine, and very conveniently located in the Santa Maria Novella neighborhood. Someone asked a while ago where has my favorite maritozzo, and now I can firmly say there, even though it’s not hyper-traditional. It’s a great stop in conjunction with a day of shopping, or an hour well-spent at the Giunti Odeon or at Palazzo Strozzi, or Palazzo Davanzati. Usually, for me it’s paired procuring a new book at Odeon and looking at beautiful things at Loretta Caponi and a visit to COS and a meal at either Cantinetta Antinori or Trattoria Marione.

Lastly, some new-to-me stores.

One of my favorite things about Italy is the existence of the erboristeria – an herbalist shop. People thrived in this city long before modern medicine, after all. As an eczema girl, I use rosehip oil religiously and in the US a big bottle of the pure thing is often pricier than I’d like. I found a really good one at Erboristeria Medicinale Toscana, an unsexy name and place with an extremely affordable price. It’s the deep orange color that means it’s the real, good stuff and I’m quite obsessed. The brand of the rosehip oil is Le Erbe di Jonas.

In the same piazza, there’s a vintage store that I had long not thought twice about, Giratempo Vintage. The downstairs, however, has some treasure to be hunted. It’s packed and a bit claustrophic but you can find a vintage Gianfranco Ferre suit for less than 200 euros. It’s particularly ripe in vintage designer business casual type wear.

In the same area, Mimi Furaha is a quirky little multi-brand boutique that reads kinda Eileen Fisher but has some really fantastic pieces – beautifully-tailored shirts, fun necklaces, and yes, flowy stuff that fits the Fisher bill too.

Libreria Salimbeni is in Santa Croce and a treasure trove of a bookstore. They have historic books and first editions, but also a really wonderful curation of art and photography books and vintage magazines. It’s one of my favorite places to pop into and buy something I don’t technically need but do need. It’s a very easy place to leave inspired.

Société Anonyme is in my neighborhood of Sant’Ambrogio, and it’s a store for the avant-garde designer shoppers. They have all the coolest pieces that are a bit off-kilter or androgynous and not my style but certainly many people I know’s.

l'Ó Profumo is a haven and heaven for fragrance – smaller European brands and the known and loved lines too. The staff is so knowledgable, the building so Florentine, and I’ve found three new perfumes I’m obsessed with (I’m a very hard fragrance critic).

Lastly, I think I’ve mentioned Antica Occhialeria before, but recently I went to their location on via San Gallo and it’s a whole new world from the one in Oltrarno. There’s a whole wall of different colors and materials you can make bespoke glasses or sunglasses from, as well as deadstock pieces, and very cool designs of their own making. It’s a gem for people who want eyewear everyone doesn’t have.

The Google Map below does have almost all my Florence recommendations, but a full true, updated city guide is also in the works for paid subscribers.