Palazzo Lungarno Nove, Florence

We arrived on foot from the Arno, up a Via Tornabuoni glittering with vitrines, and almost walked past the door: Palazzo Lungarno Nove hides behind a sober stone facade that gives nothing away. The lobby, when we found it, was a study in deliberate understatement, all waxed plaster the colour of unbaked bread, a single sculptural light fixture, and a pietra serena staircase that the architects had the good sense to leave alone. A young woman in unbranded linen offered us a Negroni Sbagliato before we'd signed anything. Outside, Florence performed its usual gilded theatre; in here, the volume had been turned right down.

The room

Our room sat on the third floor, beneath a beamed ceiling that the restoration had stripped back to its honest oak. The design language was consistent: lime-washed walls, a bed dressed in undyed linen, brass fittings gone soft with deliberate ageing, and a writing desk facing tall windows that opened onto the rooftops of Santa Maria Novella. There was no clutter, no gilt, no faux-Florentine flourish. The bathroom, clad in pale travertine, held a walk-in shower and a basin carved from a single block of stone. We particularly liked the small touches: a carafe of Tuscan water, a hand-bound notebook, and shutters that actually blocked the morning sun.

In a city drunk on gold leaf, Palazzo Lungarno Nove has the confidence to be made of plaster and shadow.The Suite Edit

Service & food

Service is warm without being obsequious, which in Florence is no small feat. The team is small and visibly proud of the place; our request for a tour of artisan workshops came back the next morning as a typed itinerary. The kitchen does not attempt a full restaurant, sensibly, but the rooftop bar earns its keep: a short menu of crostini, a properly bitter Negroni, and a parapet view that takes in Brunelleschi's dome and the river at once. Breakfast is Tuscan and unhurried, all schiacciata, pecorino and cantucci, served until a civilised hour beneath the beams.

The verdict

This is a hotel for design-literate travellers who want the historic centre at their feet and the shopping at their door, but who flinch at the brocade-and-chandelier school of Florentine luxury. Couples and solo aesthetes will be happiest. The honest caveat: Via Tornabuoni is a busy, bag-laden street, and the lower front rooms catch some of its daytime bustle, so ask for something high and rear-facing if quiet matters to you. We slept beautifully on the third floor and left wishing we'd booked the rooftop for one more aperitivo.