Words By Allegra Salvadori | Photographs By Stefan Giftthaler

In the heart of Florence’s Santa Maria Novella district, a quiet transformation has unfolded. Where an old cinema once stood—long dormant—Palazzo Ottaviani now rises, its rationalist geometry softly reawakened. The latest addition to the Lungarno Collection, this residential project by the San Giuliano family reads as both architectural homage and personal narrative: a meditation on place, memory, and the enduring allure of slow travel.

Entrusted to Luigi Fragola Architects, the renovation avoids theatrics in favor of balance. Fragola draws from Florence’s own language of modernism—most notably Michelucci’s Santa Maria Novella train station, just steps away—to shape a contemporary grammar of space. Within, ten light-filled residences layer clean volumes with a rich palette: travertine, rosewood, deep blue velvet, ultramarine silks, and marble portals softened by brass detailing. The result is less restoration than reinvention—at once disciplined and romantic.

Each residence speaks its own dialect. Site-specific artworks by Florentine talents animate the walls, while tailor-made kitchens become stages for daily ritual. At the crown, a panoramic penthouse pairs sculptural interiors with a 130-square-meter terrace and silver objects by Ettore Sottsass — a subtle nod to Italy’s design vanguard.

Yet Palazzo Ottaviani is more than interiors. It is legacy. “This is a way to give something back to Florence,” says Diego di San Giuliano, who also oversaw the adjacent H Zero Museum—an ode to his father’s passion for model railways, and to the wonder of detail writ large.

Here, hospitality returns to its roots: private, poetic, precise. Palazzo Ottaviani offers a place to dwell—immersed in history, guided by design, and attuned to the slower cadences of a city that still rewards the attentive traveler.