Harmony

Rosalba Piccinni, the enchanting visionary behind Potafiori in Milan’s Bocconi neighborhood, calls herself a cantaforista (a singer-florist), although a supernova would be an equally fitting descriptor. There at the flower shop, wine bar, and restaurant-hybrid where live performances are de rigueur, Piccinni has created an unlikely and delightful setting for engaging all of one’s senses over glorious plates of eggplant caponata salad and fresh pastas such as casoncelli, a crescent-shaped stuffed type from Piccinni’s hometown of Bergamo. And at its center is Piccinni herself, a jazz singer whose most recent album “Rosa Che S’Inchina” (The Rose That Bows) is a cleverly-titled homage to the Italian vocalist Mina (who rose to fame in the 1960s) through several reinterpreted versions through the pop singer’s songs. But there must be something more than pasta fueling Piccinni’s boundless energy—when she’s not performing on-stage or bringing her flower delivery serenades to locations as far flung as Rome, she’s designing floral schemes for major clients and events—and there is, she tells us. Although the answer is almost frustratingly simple: it’s the very act of singing itself.

When I was little, my parents always listened to music. And they danced a lot. If there was music, there was automatically dancing. They would often dance to slow songs—ballads. That type of dancing is sometimes referred to as ballo del mattone, where you stay in one spot, embrace, and move closely together. They were magical moments for me.

I started singing when I was six, with a chorus. I always sang, I always felt good doing it. It brings a freedom and happiness to my soul.

Often when I’m working with flowers and making arrangements, it’s not that I choose the flowers, but they choose me.

I love finding flowers spontaneously—what’s available in a local field, for example. I like mixing fresh flowers with dried, always using components from what’s local.

Two years ago I was in Calabria for a wedding. It was spectacular. We used only what was available in the fields, in the trees—all the greenery of the region that time of year, which was the height of summer. We couldn’t plan it in advance or before getting there. It was all spontaneous and improvised, based on what was available then at the time.

I’ve lived in Milan for 13 years. It’s a very stimulating city because there’s always something new happening, and also the chance to make things happen—there’s opportunity. It’s really in your hands what you can do here. You have the opportunity to reinvent yourself.

It gives me energy. It’s also an opportunity to meet people, and for me, that’s an exchange of energy—synergy. It’s a shared moment that energizes me, and it can happen anywhere, not just when I’m on a stage.

Potafiori, my project, doesn’t only include flowers and music, but also food. It’s about being together around a table in a beautiful setting, like family. That’s why I also wanted to open a restaurant that showcases my voice, my flowers, and it’s accessible to everyone. That’s what it’s all about.