The Art of Looking Good by Rebecca Ford
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Castello Del Nero
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She was in front of me in the queue for the ladies. Perfectly cut jeans over perfectly cut legs, cigarette hanging casually from her fingers and a slim black mobile phone clamped to her ear. When a cubicle became free she wafted in, shut the door and continued talking. Posing is an art form in Florence - even in the toilets.
Of course this should not be surprising in the city of Michelangelo, Botticelli and da Vinci - the hub of the Renaissance in the 15th century. Thanks to the rich and powerful Medici dynasty, major patrons of the arts, Florence boasts thirty per cent of Italy's art treasures - many of which are masterly celebrations of the human body. Surrounded by so many firm thighs, pert breasts and rounded buttocks, lovingly arranged by some of the world's greatest artists, it is no wonder that the Florentines are body-conscious.
My first stop is the Bargello, an old prison with a grizzly history, which now houses a priceless collection of Tuscan Renaissance sculpture. It is stuffed with sensual statuary, such as Michelangelo's Drunken Bacchus and Ammannati's Leda and the Swan. One of the most important works is Donatello's bronze David, the first Renaissance nude made around 1430. Slim and seductive I can't help thinking that he has a rather effeminate look - a camp David you might say, especially when compared to Michelangelo's version with the perfect pecs which stands in the Galleria dell'Accademia.
From here I take the short walk to the Piazza della Signoria, the city's civic centre. It is dominated by the Palazzo Vecchio, once home to the Medicis, now used by the municipal authorities. From the outside it looks rather like a fortress, but inside I find a maze of apartments lushly decorated with frescos, tapestries, paintings and sculpture. In the imposing reception hall, the Salone dei Cinquecento, are a set of statues by Vincenzo de'Rossi, depicting the Labours of Hercules. The naked figures of Hercules and Diomedes wrestle so vigorously that you can almost smell the sweat from their straining muscles. The effect of all this sensuality can have a striking effect on the British, as E M Forster so shrewdly observed in A Room with a View. I spot what look like two of his characters outside the Palazzo Vecchio. A couple of elderly ladies, with sensible shoes and perms, are taking a great interest in the huge white figure of Neptune which stands in the centre of the Ammannati Fountain in the Piazza. They giggle like schoolgirls at the fact that, viewed from a certain angle, Neptune looks as if he is remarkably pleased to see them. I notice one of them takes a photograph before she moves on.
The best way to see a sensual city such as Florence is slowly. Rushing round trying to make 'seen it' notches in your guidebook only gives you sore feet and a headache. I think it's essential to make frequent stops for coffee, where you can digest what you've seen and watch the never-ending people show. In cafe Rivoire across the piazza I sit down close to a couple who have carefully arranged themselves to their best advantage. She is pretty, he is beautiful: clothes by Armani, body by Michelangelo. They somehow manage to talk and eat for the next hour without spoiling an inch of their careful pose. In the piazza, two mounted policemen cut through the crowd, lightly tanned and exquisitely turned out in tight grey jodhpurs etched with a maroon stripe. Their ensemble perfectly matches the rugs under their horses' saddles. They feel my glance and smirk.
Flaunting what you've got - whether it's beauty or wealth - seems to have been a Florentine pastime from way back. The Medicis were particularly good at it, as I discovered the next day in the Medici Chapels at the church of San Lorenzo. I walk up the elegant staircase and am suddenly confronted with the opulence of the Chapel of the Princes. Built in baroque style it was begun in 1604 by Nigetti and wasn't finished until the eighteenth century. Celebrating the glory of the Medicis rather than the glory of God, its octagonal walls are completely covered with semi precious stones and are topped with an ornate dome. In the New Sacristry are the tombs of Dukes Giuliano and Lorenzo, lavishly topped by Michelangelo's allegorical figures of Night and Day, and Dusk and Dawn. The Medicis might not have been able to take their money with them but they certainly left a sumptuous legacy.
The most important art collection in Florence is in the Uffizzi but for sheer splendour you can't beat the Pitti Palace. Ornate ceilings, rich carpets and curtains compete for your attention alongside frescoes and furniture. The walls are covered with paintings including bright, fleshy works by Rubens and Raphael and a famous Madonna with Child by Filippo Lippi, a too masculine monk who fell in love with his model, who was a nun. There is so much here that some rooms are hopelessly overcrowded and it is in danger of looking like a high class junk shop. But in a way this just adds to its atmosphere.
Many of the museums and galleries shut at lunchtime but this is your opportunity to explore Florence's narrow streets, walk along the Arno or just lay on the grass in the Boboli Gardens. The shops are open late and sell everything from designer clothes and fine shoes to extravagant ceramics and fragile bottles of grappa. At 6 o'clock I find myself caught up in the nightly promenade, when all Florence struts its stuff along the Via Calzaiuoli. The air is heady with the smell of after shave and cigarettes, as young and old stroll slowly in their best clothes, stopping occasionally to chat to friends and admire one another. Looking good is an art after all.