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In 2024, luxury hotels in Venice are a dime a dozen: you can barely walk a hundred yards in the city’s historical center without passing a set of quatrefoil Gothic arches marking the entrance to a jaw-dropping palace hotel, or without catching a glimpse of a liveried doorman shooing pigeons away, preparing to greet a weel-heeled group of guests gliding up to a canalside entrance via water taxi. What is hard to find in this most tourist-saturated of cities, however? A luxury stay that also somehow feels like a home away from home.
Yet that’s exactly what you’ll find at Violino d’Oro: a family-owned jewel box of a boutique hotel that opened earlier this year, featuring 32 elegantly designed rooms and suites are spread across a quartet of neighboring, interlinking buildings. Somewhat counterintuitively, given that whole “home away from home” thing I mentioned, it’s actually positioned on one of the busiest thoroughfares in La Serenissima—just around the corner from the who’s who of designer boutiques that line the Calle Larga XXII Marzo a few minutes from St. Mark’s Square, and adjacent to the Canal San Moisè, where tourists throng every morning and late afternoon for gondola rides. But as soon as you step through the hotel’s unassuming entrance, and hear the quiet hum of its sliding doors close behind you, an air of calm seems to blanket every surface. (I was paying a visit during the Venice Film Festival in the last days of high summer, meaning the crisp air conditioning was also very much welcomed.)
After being ushered to a cozy sofa and nestling myself between a stack of velvet cushions—and perhaps most importantly, being offered a tall glass of iced tea—I was able to take in my surroundings fully. Through the diamond-patterned windows, I could see the arched bows of gondolas floating by; inside, the taupe and cream walls were hung with an eclectic mix of paintings ranging from Baroque portraits of nobility to cutting-edge contemporary pieces that speak to the city’s current status as an art world hub, all lit by the gentle glow of 1950s Murano chandeliers lending the terrazzo flooring an alluring twinkle. I also watched with curiosity a stylist’s assistant carry in a stack of garment bags to be dropped off for a premiere later that evening, and overheard the names of a thrice-Oscar-nominated film director and his actor wife who were checking in later that day during the exchange. Though the supremely discrete staff gave nothing away when I enquired about any other A-listers who might have passed through its doors over the preceding week—this is not a place to see and be seen, despite the presence of eavesdroppers like myself, but rather a place where the glitterati come to find a peaceful haven one step removed from the chaos of the city.
To wit, I was swiftly whisked up to my room by a porter—endlessly helpful, without being overbearing—and discovered the hotel’s real magic trick: its Tardis-like ability to feel strangely spacious despite its appearance from the outside. I was set up in a seriously impressive suite with a bedroom, two bathrooms, and a living area all wrapped around a peaceful terrace surrounded by leafy potted plants and with plush outdoor furniture, with the only sounds being the squawk of seagulls and the occasional horn of a vaporetto carrying faintly on the breeze. The atmosphere is one of tasteful, discerning charm—but also gently playful, thanks to the custom-designed upholstery featuring patterns of rusticated bricks and loopy, hand-drawn Roman busts, and the Chinoiserie-inspired mural in my living area that whispered of Venice’s prominent position in the historic Silk Road.
Dig even deeper into the provenance of the decor, and you’ll discover the hotel’s commitment to Italian craftsmanship is a serious business. Overseen by co-owner Sara Maestrelli and her aunt, Elena—the family’s Collezione Em group runs a handful of equally distinctive properties in Florence and Forte dei Marmi—the interiors manage to celebrate the very best of the country’s design culture, while also feeling unfussy. Which is to say, you won’t feel like you need to be tiptoeing around the antiques here: every piece of furniture and decorative object feels like something to be lived with and enjoyed. Even so, slowly noticing the artisans behind each detail is like a whistle-stop tour through the history of Italian design: sumptuous Rubelli curtains and cushions all woven in Venice, Marioni coffee tables from Florence, windows and walk-in wardrobes crafted by the Venetian woodworking masters at Lunardelli, Venini glass chandeliers forged in the factories of Murano—the list goes on. (And on, and on.)
All of this will be happily explained to you by one of the concierge team, who—in keeping with the property’s overall philosophy—are also on hand to offer the kind of recommendations your most stylish friend who frequents the city often might send over. (Essentially, the kind of friend who might stay somewhere like here.) Need a reservation for an outdoor table at that local’s favorite trattoria you spotted while wandering the alleyways of Castello? Consider it done. Taken a shine to a particular decor item in your room, and fancy a visit to the local artisan’s studios where it was made? They’ll be happy to oblige. And after a long day pounding the pavements—or more accurately, the cobblestones—of the city, you have that enormous bathtub to return to, lavishly stocked with Ortigia soaps and salts for a pre-dinner soak.
That homey feel was in full evidence on my final night, as I followed the rabbit warren of corridors that seam together the hotel’s various buildings and down a few flights of stairs to find myself at Il Piccolo, the bijou restaurant comprising of just nine tables that—in the spirit of Violino d’Oro more broadly—offers subtle, meticulously executed riffs on classic Venetian fare and the flavors of the lagoon. As I sat at a corner table by the window with my book, I watched as a group of a dozen or so locals made their way in for a celebratory dinner. (With the help of my very rusty Italian—and a little more of that eavesdropping I’d been doing in reception the day before—I did manage to pick up on there being some tangential link to the film festival as the reason for their regular raisings of the glass.) Even dining solo, I was made to feel just as welcome by the staff, and it was hard for the convivial atmosphere of the dining room not to rub off on me as I tucked into the hearty meal that followed: an amuse-bouche of silky baccalà on a cube of toasted bread; a plump pair of scallops, seared and served with tangy puréed broccoli; a perfectly-cooked plate of glossy spaghetti with briny clams, garlic, and parsley. And then back to those luxuriously crisp white linens for a deep sleep.
Gazing out the windows the next morning and observing the quieter goings-on of the streets behind the hotel, it wasn’t hard to see why it’s the kind of place that a local might recommend to a friend visiting the city. Sophisticated but not stuffy, and five-star service that also feels familial: Violino d’Oro may sit in plain sight in one of the busiest areas of the city, but it still carries the air of a true hidden gem.
