by Jelizaveta Demcakova. Cover image Ginevra Poli courtesy
Telling the story of Florence without slipping into clichés is a task for the few — and Ginevra Poli is one of them. An art historian and journalist with deep, lifelong ties to the city, Poli is the author of Firenze, a new guide published by Morellini/Feltrinelli that seeks to restore the city’s full complexity: its human scale, its quiet beauty, and the subtler rhythms that lie beyond postcard stereotypes.
In the city’s guideshe invites readers to see Florence from unexpected angles — far from familiar tourist routes and closer to the network of places, habits, and memories that shape its most authentic identity. With a sharp eye and an accessible voice, Poli constructs an itinerary that weaves together cultural insight, lesser-known corners, glimpses of everyday life, and personal reflection.
In this interview, she discusses how the project began, what it means to write about one’s own city without idealizing it, which places she believes truly capture Florence’s essence, and how a guidebook can reveal as much about its author as about the place it describes. The result is an honest, contemporary portrait that brings the city back to its most intimate — and at the same time most welcoming — dimension.
Ginevra Poli’s New Florence Guide Speaks to Locals and Travelers
When you were writing this book, who did you really have in mind: the tourist who wants to discover the city, or the Florentine who wants to rethink it?
I’d say both. I love visiting and telling the story of my city: every time feels like seeing it with new eyes. From that feeling came the desire to write a book that could speak both to Florentines and to those who arrive from afar with a traveler’s curiosity. Florence is fascinating, but like every great city, it thrives on contrasts. I wanted the pages to flow between those opposites: chaos that becomes music and silence that becomes breath. When I let art and writing guide me, everything feels lighter, as if inside a bubble that protects and reveals. I hope readers find a new gaze—another point of view to play with.
Florence Stereotypes and the City’s True Identity
If you could erase one stereotype about Florence, which would it be? And what would you rather people learn to really see or feel?
I’m not sure I’d erase any of them. That Florentines have sharp humor, that Florence is overwhelmed by mass tourism, that its inhabitants are proud to excess… I hate to say it, but it’s all true. And those very traits give the city its identity. I love and hate it for that—like loving someone whose flaws you know well but choose every day nonetheless. Florence shouldn’t be idealized or diminished: it should be lived and accepted for what it is. Everyone perceives it in their own way, depending on their bond with the place. All I can do is invite people to look at it carefully, to truly feel it—in its sunsets, its glimpses, its gardens. Oh yes, one stereotype I will debunk: Florence has greenery, plenty of it. Read my guide and you’ll change your mind.
Understanding Florence’s Inner Life
What is the “breath” of Florence?
Florence’s great fortune is its ability to spark curiosity in anyone who lives in it or passes through. Over the years, I’ve realized how important it was to grow up here. Today I could live in the countryside and maybe I’d find a different, more genuine peace, but at fifteen or sixteen a city like Florence becomes your whole horizon. You can go to the cinema, to the theatre, meet friends, try new places, hop on a train and be at the sea or in the mountains in an hour. Everything is within reach—both a blessing and a temptation. Everything makes you feel that the world is waiting just outside your door. A small town offers a slower, more intimate breath, but if you don’t know how to listen to its silences, it can feel suspended. Florence, in those years, taught me to search, and this book hopes to help others see it “with the eyes of a small town.
How to Live in Florence Like a Local
The city seems hard to conquer—as if you had to earn its trust. What advice would you give to someone moving here to study or live?
It’s true: Florence doesn’t give itself away easily, despite its beauty. It’s a city to observe slowly, one that opens up only to those patient enough to stay. Florentines are like that too—not cold or suspicious, but attached to deep, long-built relationships, the kind you count on one hand. Sometimes I feel that distance too; it can seem stubborn, but it’s part of the charm of living here: you learn that not everything has to happen immediately. My advice is to approach Florence and its people with lightness and irony, without forcing anything. Step back, listen, adopt a slow, curious gaze. When the city senses your sincerity, it knows how to give affection in return.
Where can someone experience solitude without feeling like a foreigner?
The answer is… “within yourself.” I don’t think there’s one precise place—what matters is finding a passion, even a small one, that makes you wake up with a smile. Something that lights a fire inside you, even when loneliness feels heavy, as it does for everyone. Time alone is essential: it’s where we truly get to know ourselves. You have to give yourself space, be kind to yourself, treat yourself to an evening at the cinema, the theatre, a dinner out, or some music. I was lucky to understand early on what fuels me, but over time I learned it’s not an innate gift: it comes from experience and the willingness to push through limits and fixed ideas. Writing was once just a pastime for me; I had to reinvent myself again, find new stimuli, because with time it became, in its own way, a “profession.”
An Ideal Day in Florence: Cafés, Wandering, and Sunset Magic
What does your ideal day in Florence look like—the one that feels most like you?
When I manage to carve out time for myself, I love starting with breakfast out: a chocolate croissant and a cappuccino—a small ritual that instantly lifts my mood. Then I pick a new place, an exhibition, or an event in the city, put on my headphones, turn on some music, and let myself wander without hurry, alone or with company. I have a weakness for sunsets, especially in spring or summer, when the light warms and my mood lightens. I often watch them along the Arno, among people, my thoughts, and my music. Between frenzy and sweetness, every sunset is a rebirth unto itself, never the same; and in Florence—my home—I love it even more.
And if it weren’t Florence, where would you start over? In which other city would you find a different truth?
In Italy? Until recently I would have said Rome. It’s full of stimuli and warmth, but with my personality I fear I’d feel lost. Rome is a great embrace, but chaotic: there, your neighborhood really matters, it gives you stability. I hoped that, throughout the pages of this book, that feeling of belonging to a Florentine neighborhood would continue to live on. Verona, on the other hand, was the most romantic solo trip I’ve taken: I walked endlessly to see it all, and it left me with an unforgettable memory, though it might feel a bit too small for truly starting over. Lately, Ferrara and Mantua have drawn me in, though I couldn’t tell you why. Abroad? Spain attracts me.
Florence’s Places Most Visitors Never See
Which place do you think reveals the real Florence—the one tourists often miss?
I’d say the Museo di Palazzo Davanzati, which represents the transition from the medieval tower-house to the Renaissance palazzo. It’s no coincidence that it’s also known as the “Museum of the Old Florentine House”: built in the mid-14th century by the Davizzi family, merchants and bankers, it was restored in the early 1900s by the antiques dealer Elia Volpi, who turned it into a testament to the life and comforts of ancient Florentine families. The rest—you’ll discover in the guide.
While writing this guide, did you discover anything new about the city or about yourself as a Florentine?
Absolutely. Especially at twenty-seven, you can’t expect to know everything—and maybe that’s the beauty of it. Writing this guide, which isn’t meant to be a scholarly treatise but a journey into Florence, was a demanding challenge. I felt—and still feel—a great responsibility: telling the story of your own city isn’t easy, but we should take ourselves a bit less seriously. For me, this is a starting point, not a finishing line. This book even pushed me to enroll in the Specialization School for Historical and Artistic Heritage, to fill gaps and continue feeding my sense of wonder.
What do you think of Leonardo Mincolelli’s photographs?
Leonardo is a talented and very young photographer. I involved him because I wanted the book to have his gaze—a gaze I recognize myself in. There’s always something alive in his photos: people or animals, never still lifes. Nature always interacts with its surroundings; every subject carries its own energy and story, revealed through the play of shadow. I hope these photographs inspire readers to listen to Florence at every moment.
