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.
“It’s playful!” Jacqueline Karachi, Cartier’s High Jewelry Creative Director, tells me when I ask about the explosion of color in this current collection. That seven-carat Mozambique ruby ring flanked by wildly elongated diamond baguettes, she explains, is “a very classical design but we gave it a modernity—a little something additional.” I inquire as to the providence of these rare gems, and she tells me something that frankly shocks me: like every jewelry dealer from the vastest conglomerate to the guy hammering out a few pieces in his garage, she goes to the massive gem show in Tucson. “It’s why we have more turquoise and more opal in this collection,” she muses. “We like to mix precious and semi-precious together.” When you see that special stone across a crowded room, she confesses, it is love at first sight. “You see it and you think, I will make a ring with this, or a necklace. There are 14 designers in the studio, and it’s love at first sight for them too.” She adds that the quality of the light can change everything: in Jaipur, she explains, it gives a pinkish glow; in Tucson, the intensely blue sky informs the palette.
The sky is deep azure over the villa today, and there is much to explore—a lake with little Cartier-branded boats floating; a clock building; a chapel; a grotto—but when do I ever have a car at my disposal? The old saying, My mama didn’t raise any fools, clearly doesn’t apply to my family, because instead of spending the afternoon at the villa or hightailing back to Florence, I prevail upon the driver to take me to the outlet mall, which is actually called The Mall. Even though I have been hearing about the legendary Florence outlets my whole life, I regret to inform you that this escapade was sheer waste of time, with prices no better than Woodbury Common. No matter! We are back in town ready to unearth a few spangles from my suitcase and head to the gala.
Held at the Giardino Corsini, a stunning allée is converted into a makeshift runway, and models in evening dresses show off the jewelry we saw this morning. They look splendid, but the standouts are the two gentlemen in tuxes sporting brilliant brooches. Celebrity alert! Here are Adrien Brody and Georgina Chapman (he will deejay at the after-party) and my friend Elle Fanning who I interviewed when she was 12 and attending her first Chanel couture show. After a sumptuous dinner, a Florentine choir—strangely moving, almost spooky—leads us outside where Labrinth plays a set. Then it is time for Adrian to take over, but after a few spins I find myself suddenly exhausted—high jewelry and low outlets take their toll—and like that coveted panther, I long to drip precious stones, and recline for all eternity on a diamond bar.
