Florence’s Ponte Vecchio is one of the most over-photographed spots in the world. But step through the door at number 44r, and time seems to genuinely stop.
The story of Bernardo Antichità begins in the late 19th century, when Caterina Pasquinucci’s great-grandfather, Adolfo Melli, relocated his family to Florence and opened this shop on the ancient bridge, specialising in jewellery and fine works of art. It quickly became a supplier to European royalty and nobility. The shop still holds the original correspondence and certification documents from that era — including the royal warrant granted by the House of Savoy, confirming their role as official suppliers to the heir to the Italian throne. A gilded plaque mounted on the wall reads: Fornitori della Casa di S.A.R. il Principe di Piemonte — “Supplier to the Household of H.R.H. the Prince of Piedmont.” It is the title of Italy’s last crown prince, and the shop’s quietest historical footnote.
The business passed from Adolfo to his son Gustavo Melli, and eventually to the current generation: Caterina, her husband Fabio Bernardo, and their son Duccio. The three run this four-generation antique jewellery shop together, continuing at the same address on Ponte Vecchio 44r, going about their work without fanfare. The first thing Duccio said when we met was: “On this bridge, I think we’re now the only ones left doing true antique jewellery.” Among the densely packed jewellers of Ponte Vecchio, the remark landed somewhere between pride and quiet melancholy — after the pandemic, the Melli shop, named after his mother’s family and once located just steps away on the same bridge, closed its doors for good.
Inside, the experience feels less like shopping and more like wandering into a small private museum without an admission fee. The display cases hold intaglio rings from ancient Rome and the Imperial period — carnelian, agate, and basalt engraved with gods, warriors, portraits, and family crests, each stone set into hand-crafted gold mounts, waiting for their next wearer. Nearby sit 18th and 19th-century signet rings from Italian guilds and noble families — made to seal, to authenticate, to carry trust — alongside rings commissioned to mark a journey, a marriage, or a bereavement. Then there are the pieces with papal provenance: a Castellani gold pendant accompanied by a Vatican scroll, documenting the day in August 1857 when Pope Pius IX personally presented it to a Florentine countess, the original written record preserved alongside the jewel itself.
