Venice Has Never Been Modest
Venezia non è (mai stata) sobria
The original Italian version of this article, including some personal (amazing) pictures of Venice and Aman Venice, can be read here 👇🏻
If it moves us today, it's because it once was excessive, theatrical, and shameless. Wealth, romance, and months-long carnivals: forget billionaire weddings—Venezia invented them.
These days, Jeff Bezos’ wedding is making waves on every corner of the internet. On LinkedIn, no less, people are engaging in profound reflections about luxury, values, love, yachts, and the decadence of modern society. Some praise it, some condemn it, some quote Seneca, others prefer silence (though not really).
And that’s all fine.
But allow me to offer a different lens. A personal and historical one.
A Venetian Weekend (Without a Yacht)
Back in 2019, I didn’t have a wedding to celebrate—just one to honor. It was Valentine’s Day, the start of Carnival, and I decided to spend two unforgettable days with my wife at the Aman Venice, one of the most stunning hotels in the world.
The city was dressed for Carnival, and by some miracle (or by prices that were still reasonable back then), we had the privilege of living something truly surreal. A frescoed suite overlooking the Grand Canal, a discreet and impeccable staff, and a palace that truly felt like our own.
But the most touching gift came from the hotel itself: a private tour through Venice’s hidden side, led by a professor of art history.
We crossed the city by foot and private boat, exploring secret chapels, private palazzos, and forgotten monasteries. Despite the season, Venice felt unusually quiet—no crowds, no queues. And between shadowy alleys and glowing altars, we learned something deeper.
When Venice Was Vegas (and Wall Street)
At one point, our charming guide, half-drunk on prosecco and history, said something I’ll never forget:
“The Venice you admire today was once the Vegas of Europe. A cultured Vegas. A floating Wall Street.”
By the 18th century, Venice had already lost much of its global trading power. But it had learned one essential truth:
If you can no longer rule the seas, then seduce the world.
Carnival lasted for months. Courtesans were not just beautiful, they were educated and influential. Noblewomen were escorted by "cicisbei" (elegant male companions), while masked men and women gambled, flirted, danced and plotted in candlelit "ridotti"—Venetian salons somewhere between casinos and private clubs.
The whole city was a stage.
A grand masquerade, where aristocrats, artists, royals and tourists came not to see—but to be seen.
When Excess Created Beauty
Those two days in Venice taught me that the historical beauty we admire today—the palaces, chandeliers, and ballrooms—wasn’t born from restraint. It came from a brilliant mix of vanity, power, seduction, and spectacle.
Venice wasn’t a museum. It was an expertly managed theatre of excess.
And it still is, if you know how to look at it.
A (Not-So-Moralistic) Closing Thought
So yes, we can raise our eyebrows at Bezos’ wedding.
We can pretend we’d do things more tastefully, more ethically, more authentically.
But maybe—just maybe—while sipping a cocktail on the Grand Canal, we should remember that Venice has never been modest.
And that’s exactly why we love her.