Rome, I Think We Have a Problem

Two beautiful hotels, an unreasonable amount of pasta, a little luxury shopping and a city that made absolutely no effort to be subtle. I fell completely in love.

There are cities you visit, cities you admire, and cities that make you start entertaining completely impractical ideas about relocating before you've even unpacked your suitcase. I arrived expecting the usual extraordinary architecture, excellent food and a few days of indulging my considerable weakness for fashion. What I hadn't anticipated was how completely the city would get under my skin. Rome is magnificent, chaotic, theatrical, occasionally inconvenient and almost offensively beautiful. I loved it.

There is something wonderfully unapologetic about a city that has spent more than two thousand years accumulating history and still sees absolutely no reason to behave modestly. Ancient columns stand beside Renaissance palaces, Baroque fountains appear at the end of narrow streets, and even the most ordinary walk can turn into an unexpected encounter with something that would be the principal attraction of another European city. Rome doesn't arrange its beauty neatly for visitors. It simply exists, layered and gloriously excessive, while everyone else attempts to navigate around it.

I spent my summer visit moving between two exceptional hotels, Hotel de la Ville and Portrait Roma, exploring the city's most recognizable landmarks, eating with an enthusiasm that bordered on competitive sport, shopping along some of its most elegant streets and, somewhat unexpectedly, riding a scooter through Villa Borghese. By the time I left, I had developed a fairly serious attachment to the place, along with the suspicion that I had consumed enough pasta to sustain a small Italian village.

A Roman affair begins at Hotel de la Ville

Occupying an eighteenth-century palazzo on Via Sistina, just above the Spanish Steps, the Rocco Forte property has the kind of location that makes you feel as though you've somehow been granted access to a particularly privileged version of Rome.

The interiors are a delicious mixture of historical references and contemporary Italian glamour. Rich fabrics, intricate patterns, polished details and carefully considered color combinations create an atmosphere that feels unmistakably Roman without descending into theatrical imitation. There's a confidence to the design that I particularly appreciate. It doesn't try to erase the building's history in pursuit of minimalism, nor does it insist that luxury must involve an alarming quantity of gold furniture. Everything feels layered, elegant and wonderfully assured.

And then there's the location. Being able to step outside and find yourself moments from the Spanish Steps is the sort of convenience that becomes increasingly difficult to surrender. Rome is a city best experienced on foot, provided you accept that every journey will take longer than anticipated because something beautiful will inevitably distract you. Staying here made wandering feel effortless, and the surrounding streets offered an endless procession of architecture, cafés, boutiques and people who appeared to have mastered the art of looking extraordinarily well dressed while doing very little.

Hotel de la Ville also understands something essential about Roman hospitality: the view matters. From its elevated position, the city unfolds in a spectacular arrangement of rooftops, domes and warm-toned buildings. Rome looks particularly beautiful from above, where its architectural contradictions become a remarkably harmonious whole. It's the kind of panorama that encourages you to linger longer than planned, preferably with something cold in your hand and absolutely nowhere urgent to be.

Portrait Roma and the pleasure of being wonderfully spoiled

My second Roman address was Portrait Roma. And if Hotel de la Ville offered the grandeur of a glamorous Roman residence, Portrait Roma delivered something more intimate. Part of the Ferragamo family's Lungarno Collection, the property sits on Via Bocca di Leone, just off Via dei Condotti, in the heart of the city's luxury shopping district. For someone with my particular interests, this is a location that requires a certain amount of financial self-discipline.

Portrait Roma feels less like a conventional hotel and more like an exceptionally stylish private residence where someone has thoughtfully anticipated what you might need before you've even realized you need it. The atmosphere is discreet, polished and personal, with a strong sense of Italian craftsmanship running through the interiors. Beautiful materials, elegant furnishings and fashion-inspired details create an environment that feels luxurious without constantly reminding you how much everything costs.

What I loved about staying at two such different properties was discovering how many interpretations of Roman luxury can coexist within a relatively small area. Hotel de la Ville is expressive, grand and richly decorative, while Portrait Roma is quieter and more residential in character. Both understand that luxury is about more than an impressive lobby or an expensive room. It's the feeling a place creates, the way it connects you to its surroundings and the pleasure of returning after a long day in the city.

Portrait Roma's position was particularly dangerous because stepping outside placed me almost immediately among some of the most recognizable names in Italian and international fashion. There are worse problems to have, although my wardrobe would probably argue that I already own sufficient evidence of my affection for luxury shopping.

Rome is essentially an open-air museum with excellent restaurants

I've visited beautiful European cities, but Rome operates on an entirely different level of historical extravagance. The Colosseum alone is enough to make you reconsider what we mean when we describe contemporary architecture as ambitious. Standing before an amphitheatre that has survived nearly two millennia is an extraordinary reminder of how much human history exists beyond our own tiny moment in it.

And yet Rome doesn't feel like a museum. That's what makes it so captivating. The ancient world isn't sealed off behind glass. It exists alongside traffic, cafés, apartment buildings and people going about their ordinary lives. You can spend one moment contemplating the architectural achievements of the Roman Empire and the next trying to determine whether a nearby restaurant has an available table.

The Pantheon is another place that demands a little time. Its enormous dome remains one of the great achievements of ancient engineering, and the opening at its center allows natural light to move across the interior in a way that feels almost theatrical. There's something deeply moving about standing inside a building that has witnessed so many centuries of change while remaining so remarkably intact.

Then there is the Trevi Fountain, which is every bit as extravagant as its reputation suggests. It's enormous, elaborate and surrounded by people attempting to capture the perfect photograph. Normally, this level of tourist enthusiasm would test my patience, but Rome has a remarkable ability to make even its most crowded attractions feel worth the effort. The fountain is a spectacular piece of Baroque theatre, and no photograph quite communicates its scale.

I found myself constantly looking up, which is both the correct way to experience Rome and an excellent way to nearly walk into people.

I came, I saw, I ate an unreasonable amount of pasta

I went to Rome with every intention of enjoying the food, but I may have underestimated my commitment to the assignment. Italian cuisine is one of those rare things that manages to be simultaneously comforting, indulgent and deeply sophisticated. The ingredients are often deceptively simple, yet the results can be extraordinary. Rome, in particular, has a culinary identity built around dishes that have very little interest in accommodating modern dietary anxieties.

Carbonara, cacio e pepe, amatriciana and gricia are the great Roman pasta classics, each demonstrating how much can be achieved with relatively few ingredients and an extremely confident relationship with cheese. I have enormous respect for a culinary culture that understands the importance of pecorino and refuses to apologize for it. A beautifully prepared plate of pasta doesn't need edible flowers, elaborate plating or an unnecessarily long explanation from the waiter. It simply needs to be excellent.

And then there is the pleasure of eating in Rome itself. Meals feel like occasions without necessarily being formal. A leisurely lunch can become an entire afternoon, while dinner often begins with the perfectly reasonable intention of ordering something light before developing into a rather more ambitious affair. There is something liberating about being somewhere that treats eating as a fundamental pleasure rather than an inconvenience to be managed between other activities.

I ate a huge amount, and I regret very little of it. There were moments when I genuinely wondered whether another plate of pasta was advisable, but those moments tended to pass quite quickly. Gelato presented its own challenges, largely because I believe it is important to support local businesses, particularly when they sell pistachio-flavored things.

A scooter, Villa Borghese and a brief career in Italian transportation

Of all the things I expected to do in Rome, riding a scooter through Villa Borghese wasn't particularly high on the list. But it turned out to be one of those experiences that stays with you precisely because it was so different from the carefully planned itinerary of monuments, restaurants and shopping.

Villa Borghese is a beautiful expanse of greenery in the middle of the city, filled with tree-lined paths, gardens, sculptures, museums and pockets of quiet that feel surprisingly removed from the surrounding streets. After the intensity of central Rome, the park offers a completely different atmosphere. The architecture and history are still present, but here they're softened by trees, open spaces and the gentle rhythm of people enjoying the outdoors.

Exploring it on a scooter added a wonderfully playful element to the afternoon. There is something particularly enjoyable about abandoning the idea that every travel experience needs to be culturally significant and simply doing something because it's fun. I spend a great deal of time thinking about fashion, hotels, restaurants and the finer details of places, but sometimes the most memorable moments are the ones that require very little analysis.

Villa Borghese also offers some extraordinary views over Rome, particularly around the Pincio terrace, where the city stretches out beneath you in a sea of rooftops and domes. It is one of those places where Rome seems to reveal another side of itself, less monumental perhaps, but equally beautiful. I loved seeing the city from this perspective, away from the busiest tourist streets and surrounded by the kind of greenery that makes you forget you're in a major European capital.

A little shopping, because obviously

It would be deeply unlike me to visit Rome and not spend a considerable amount of time exploring its fashion houses. Italy has given the world some of its most influential designers, and shopping in Rome feels like a particularly appropriate way to appreciate that contribution. One could argue that visiting boutiques is a form of cultural research, and I am entirely comfortable with that interpretation.

The streets around Via dei Condotti, Via del Babuino and Piazza di Spagna form one of Europe's most elegant luxury shopping districts. Here, fashion exists against a backdrop of historic architecture that gives even the most familiar international brands a different atmosphere. There's something special about exploring Italian houses in Italy, where the connection between fashion, craftsmanship, design and the country's broader cultural identity feels particularly tangible.

I love the experience of shopping as much as the purchases themselves. Examining fabrics, looking at construction, understanding how collections are merchandised and discovering pieces that don't necessarily catch my attention online are all part of the pleasure. A beautiful boutique can be an education in how a fashion house wants its world to be understood.

And Rome is especially good at making luxury feel natural. Fashion doesn't appear as an isolated commercial activity. It sits comfortably alongside centuries of art, architecture and decorative craftsmanship. The relationship between beauty and everyday life is everywhere, from the proportions of a Renaissance building to the details of a beautifully made handbag.

Of course, this philosophical appreciation of Italian design does occasionally result in shopping bags. I consider that an occupational hazard.

The thing about Rome is that it makes you want more

What surprised me most about Rome wasn't its beauty. I expected that. Nor was it the food, the shopping or the extraordinary historical landmarks. It was the atmosphere of the city itself, the way all these elements exist together without seeming to compete for attention.

Rome is not particularly interested in being efficient. Its streets don't always follow a logical route, its buildings refuse to conform to one architectural period and its most beautiful corners often appear when you're trying to get somewhere else. There is a kind of organized disorder to the city that makes it feel alive. Everything has accumulated over centuries, and somehow the result is more compelling than anything that could have been planned from scratch.

I loved the warmth of the buildings in the late afternoon, when the sunlight turns the facades golden and the streets begin to soften. I loved the elegance of the shopping districts, the theatrical scale of the monuments and the smaller moments when I found myself simply wandering without a particular destination. I loved how easily a day could move between ancient history, contemporary fashion, a beautiful hotel and an extremely satisfying dinner.

And perhaps most of all, I loved that Rome doesn't seem to feel any obligation to simplify itself for visitors. It's extravagant, sometimes overwhelming and full of contradictions. There are crowds, noise, traffic and all the usual inconveniences of a city that attracts millions of people every year. Yet none of that diminished its appeal for me. If anything, the imperfections made it feel more authentic, more textured and more interesting.

I left Rome with beautiful memories of two exceptional hotels, countless architectural discoveries, a very successful relationship with Italian food and the realization that I could happily return again and again. There are still neighborhoods I want to explore, designers I want to discover, restaurants I want to try and entire afternoons I'd like to spend doing absolutely nothing more ambitious than sitting outside with a coffee and watching the city go by.

Some destinations are wonderful for a few days, but you feel satisfied when it's time to leave. Rome had precisely the opposite effect on me. I wasn't ready to go, and I suspect I could have stayed considerably longer without running out of things to love.

I'm already thinking about going back. Next time, I might even leave some room in the suitcase for the shopping.