How the Elite See Rome

Rome has always been a city of contrasts, where ancient history collides with modern chaos. Tourists swarming its streets alongside locals who’ve seen it all before create a unique dynamic. But what happens when those tourists have an endless budget and a willingness to indulge in the ultimate experience? Fulvio De Bonis and his boutique travel company Imago Artis cater to Rome’s elite, offering bespoke itineraries that include private tours of the Colosseum, access to long-lost art treasures, and exclusive use of train cars.

De Bonis’ phone is a powerful tool for arranging these exclusive experiences. But what does this reveal about Rome itself? Is it possible for a city so steeped in history to remain relevant to its own inhabitants? The Marble Plan, an ancient map of the city engraved onto marble slabs, serves as a poignant reminder that even in imperial times, Rome was a destination for visitors from far and wide. Today’s tourists are not so different – they come seeking experiences, souvenirs, and Instagram-worthy moments.

The concept of access and exclusivity is at the heart of De Bonis’ story. In a city where grandeur and beauty seem limitless, is it only the privileged few who get to experience the real Rome? What about those who can’t afford bespoke tours or have no connection to the local elite? The role of the cicerone – the learned guide who shows visitors around – has remained a constant thread throughout Rome’s history. From Lucian in antiquity to Charles and Sebastian in Brideshead Revisited, guides have played a crucial part in shaping tourists’ experiences.

However, when ciceroni become gatekeepers, do they prioritize their clients’ interests over the city’s own well-being? How do we balance the need for exclusivity with the desire to make Rome accessible to all? De Bonis is tight-lipped about prices, but it’s safe to assume that a bespoke tour won’t come cheap. This raises the stakes on who gets to experience Rome in its truest form – and at what cost?

The dichotomy between public and private spaces is at the core of this debate. As a city, Rome struggles to balance its public monuments with the private interests of those seeking exclusive experiences. Imago Artis may be discreet about prices, but it’s clear that access comes at a premium.

As we navigate Rome’s labyrinthine streets, it’s hard not to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath our feet. The Marble Plan serves as a poignant reminder that even in a city so steeped in history, there’s always more to discover. In an era where experience-driven tourism dominates the conversation, Rome finds itself at a crossroads.

Will it prioritize the interests of its elite visitors or rediscover its own identity as a public space? The answer lies not just with De Bonis and his team but with the city itself – and what it chooses to reveal to those who come seeking more. As I watched Fulvio pull open the doors to the private guild church, a sense of awe washed over me. But alongside that feeling came another: one of trepidation for the future of Rome as a public space, and the role of its elite in shaping that destiny.

Who really owns Rome? The answer may lie not just with those who can afford exclusive experiences but also with those who seek to redefine what it means to visit – or live in – this eternal city.