When I was in college, poring over the pages of E.M. Forster’s A Room with a View as part of my A-levels, a somewhat whimsical decision was made to embark on a class trip to Florence. Officially, it was an educational excursion—unofficially, it was a thinly veiled excuse to visit the heart of Tuscany. What I didn’t expect was to fall head over heels in love with both the romance and romanticism of Florence. From the quaint allure of its cobbled streets to the regal beauty of its sprawling gardens, everything about the city felt like stepping into a living, breathing romance novel. The people, the culture, the omnipresent art that seemed to decorate every corner of the city—it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Even after many years, no other place has quite matched the romantic impression Florence left on me.

The Character Of Florence

Okay, so I joked about my college using A Room with a View, as a rather pitiful excuse to visit Florence, but actually, it was a far more profound choice than it might seem. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t a fan of the book; I found it insipid and dull. Not because I dislike literature (far from it, I dabble in fiction myself and am an obsessive reader), it just wasn’t a very interesting book.

The one element of it that was interesting was the romance. I’d really struggled to even get through it until the book’s protagonist, Lucy, while wandering the streets of Florence and consumed by the art-filled galleries strewn throughout winding streets, is seduced by the city’s vibrant energy and slowly sheds her English propriety. Florence’s intoxicating mix of beauty and freedom are a catalyst for Lucy’s emotional awakening and self-discovery, leading to her romance, and suddenly the book got interesting.

Even so, I didn’t really get it – truly get it – until I walked those streets and viewed that art and stared into the crystal clear waters of the Arno and soaked in the energy and the stunning beauty of the Piazza della Signoria and the Palazzo Pitti. Florence has a voice of its own, a character of its own, and seems to speak to you on a very visceral level. The lively chatter in the markets, the street vendors scuttling around after tourists with their little tables, randomly setting down beside you and tempting you with their wares, the serene whispers in the Uffizi, and the passionate debates in its cafés. Layers and layers of Renaissance art, intriguing alleys, sunlit piazzas, beautifully kept gardens and all the intrigue of the Medici family who built them, all seem to form an unspoken dialogue with you as you explore. 

The city itself seems to think, to feel, and perhaps to encourage you to become. What your transformation looks like will depend very much on you, but Florence is like a muse drawing out your innate creativity, passions, gifts, desires, and aspirations. It’s the type of place that leads to personal epiphanies and complete shifts in perspective on life, love, everything.

Perhaps part of this was the fact I was there as a hormonal seventeen year old. Who knows. I’ll have to return as a somewhat less chaotic adult and see if the same sensation ashes over me the second time. 

Rm W/A View: The Romance And Romanticism Of Florence

The Romance Of Florence

There’s something vaguely magical about Florence that happens the second your feet hit her ancient cobblestones. The majestic rise of the Duomo, which has such an imposing and dominating presence you can almost feel it, even when it’s not in sight, marks a pinnacle of Renaissance achievement. Yet it’s not only the obvious points to the city that make it so captivating; it’s the less trodden paths that lead to quiet, ivy-clad cafés, bistros stuffed with delicious treats, and street stalls where vendors have rolled their wares out on great mats. Florence boasts some of the most grand sites in the modern world, with the likes of the Uffizi Gallery allowing you to wander among masterpieces by Botticelli, Michelangelo, and Da Vinci, each piece speaking silently of human potential and beauty. But the romance of Florence is far deeper than this, an intangible ambiance that permeates the air.

As the sun sets, casting a golden glow over the Arno River, the city transforms. The light softens, touching ancient stones with an almost otherworldly hue. The bustling markets of Florence have been a thriving hub of trade since the Middle Ages, when those artists we now consider to be among the greatest humankind has produced were alive, working, and doubtless wandering those same streets purchasing food, art supplies, and searching for inspiration. The streets are seeping in something enduring and sublime, allowing Florence to exist in a perpetual golden hour, a timeless scene of picturesque perfection.

Footsteps echo across the Piazza della Signoria, while a whisper of conversation drifts through secluded gardens, and Florence seduces you with a subtle but persistent romance. It’s a city where every corner offers a new invitation to fall in love—not just with its visible beauty, but with the very essence of life it celebrates so gracefully.

Rm W/A View: The Romance And Romanticism Of Florence

The Romanticism Of Florence

Yet, there’s an element of Florence that transcends the visible charm—the romanticism of Florence, the stunningly surreal romanticised Florence that exists as much in the imagination as it does in the tangible world. This is the Florence celebrated in novels and films, immortalised as a haven of art and enlightenment. Room With A View may not be my favourite book, but every novel written about this city, every movie filmed there, every painting of its stunning gardens, the tranquil clarity of the Arno, and the streets and architecture, has added another layer to the romantic ether of the city.

Sure, Florence is still a modern city filled with real people, and the romanticism of it has glossed over the everyday realities—crowded tourist spots, the wear of time on ancient stones, and the challenges of preserving such a deeply historical place amidst the demands of modern life. But you can almost ignore all of these things when you visit.

My memories of Florence are so rose tinted I view it as a kind of paradise. And yet, I distinctly recall being utterly miserable on the first day I was there. The trip was long and arduous, the place we were staying was dirty, crowded, with a disgusting bathroom and a very disappointing breakfast. I was homesick, as only a seventeen year old in the first blush of a new romance and wishing to be with her boyfriend can be.

And yet, these memories and my memories of Florence itself exist in strange separation. Almost as if I took two holidays, to two different destinations, and while one was a misadventure of poor quality accommodation and teenage angst, the other was a dreamy meandering through a veritable paradise I’ve longed to return to ever since.

Florence And The Janus Gaze

Reflecting on Florence conjures an image reminiscent of Janus, the Roman god of beginnings, transitions, and endings, who is often depicted with two faces—one gazing into the past and the other toward the future. This dual-faced deity perfectly encapsulates my experiences in Florence, a city that seamlessly blends its rich historical tapestry with the pulse of modern life.

Like Janus, Florence presents two visages: one, the Florence of Renaissance splendour, immortalised by artists and poets, where every corner heralds a bygone era of unrivalled artistic achievements; and the other, a living city, vibrant with the hustle of daily commutes, the clamour of marketplaces, and the challenges of preserving its cultural heritage amidst the demands of modernity. This juxtaposition makes Florence not merely a destination to visit but a place to experience deeply, engage with fully, and reflect upon intensely.

These twin faces of Florence taught me to appreciate not only the romanticised beauty idealised in novels and films but also the genuine character of a city grappling with contemporary realities. It’s a lesson in the beauty of duality—the way places, like people, have complex layers and multiple facets that deserve recognition and respect.