It started slowly, the way the best summer days do. Every detail was intentional, every moment unhurried.
The afternoon heat held the villa in silence. Shutters open, dresses hanging loose on doors, the sound of footsteps echoing across old stone floors. Somewhere, the faint clink of glass. The scent of wisteria, growing wild by the windows, fills the air. No rush. No noise. The soft build-up of something about to begin fills the air.
At Villa Medicea di Lilliano, just beyond Florence, this wedding celebration had plenty of thoughtful moments. The bride got ready, surrounded by her closest friends, as sunlight fell across her shoulders. In another part of the villa, the groom and his groomsmen moved slowly through their rituals: pressed shirts, whiskey, and easy conversation. Outside, the cypress trees stood still.
Their first look happened in the courtyard. Quiet. No countdown. It was just the two of them, taking a moment to breathe. Framed by the old inner courtyard, it felt suspended, real, and private.
Guests arrived at the sound of a harp, soft and winding. Parasols swayed gently in the garden as they found their seats. A pageboy, just a little off-script, wandered ahead. The ceremony unfolded under the shade, in front of the villa’s old fountain. There was no need to overdress it; it was already perfect. The vows were spoken low and close, the kind of words meant only for each other, even in front of the guests.
Aperitivo was followed in the inner courtyard. Cold martinis first: sharp, clean, served in glasses. Then came the wood-fired pizza, sliced and laid on marble. It was an unpolished yet intentional nod to Italian simplicity.
By golden hour, the garden had shifted. The light had thickened, and the breeze turned warm. Long tables stretched across the lawn, covered in sage linen and lined with florals in ivory and deep burgundy. Clusters of grapes spilt between the candles, soft wax pooling around the bases. The effect was effortless, like the table had been there all along.
Dinner unfolded without a rush. Music played low. Glasses clinked. Laughter rose and settled. Then, quietly, the couple cut the cake on the panoramic terrace. Behind them, Florence began to glow.
And then the getaway: a black Burton, engine humming low, slipping through the hills with Florence in the rearview. The engine turned over. The villa watched them go. The headlights caught the shimmer of cypress leaves.
CREDITS
Planning and Organisation @weddinglab.ch @roberta_burcheri_events
Photos @pagephoto.ch @oljadietiker_wedphoto
Venue @villamediceadilllliano
HMUA @derbeka_beauty
Florals @corcortezfloral
Wedding Gown @maramariebridal
Videographer @federico_cardone
Celebrant @jennifer_patrice_celebrant
Classic car @Wego_now
Harpist @chiaratrallorimusicplanner
Bridesmaids dresses @nola.london
Stationery @symphonystationery