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About Florence

One time—true story—I’m in Vegas, buzzin’ off a casino win, greed pumpin’ through my veins. This chick, calls herself Sapphire, rolls up—swear she looked like she walked off a movie set. Knew her game, quoted me triple the usual. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Sweetheart, I eat overpriced deals for breakfast!” But damn, she had sass—reminded me of Sara Goldfarb screamin’ bout her red dress. Ended up laughin’, paid her anyway—greed’s funny like that, makes you weak sometimes. Surprised me how quick she turned it around, like a pro pitchin’ a merger.

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First off, I’m just getting settled when this lady storms in. I mean, she’s got that “I’m on a mission” vibe. She’s all decked out in designer shades and a beach cover-up, like she just stepped off a yacht or something. She slams her stuff on the counter—like, lady, chill! It’s just a cashier, not a wrestling match. Anyway, she’s got this fancy gelato from Gelateria La Dolce Vita, and she’s complaining it’s too melty. I’m like, “Uh, it’s gelato, not ice cream, lady!” But I just smile and nod. Customer service, right?

Eugenio Cecconi, painter of the Maremma, on display in Forte dei Marmi