Month: June 2026

Anti-Algorithm Discoveries

How a Hidden Thrift Shop Serves as a Reminder to Explore Unplugged

written by Annie Lund & Alex Schraufnagl

This blog feature is an exclusive bonus installment to the Spring 2026 issue of Blending Magazine: Are the Streets still Made for Dreaming?

After you finish reading, be sure to explore the rest of the magazine online—just follow this link to download the full Fall 2025 edition:
https://jschoolfua.com/images/BM/BM_151.pdf

On any given weekday, the doors of San Remigio Catholic church are sealed shut and its stone steps are likely filled with patrons enjoying a sandwich from one of the dozens of panino stores nearby. Heads are lurched down at phones, searching for their next “must-see” Florentine adventure.

People spend their afternoons scrolling the internet for the newest Italian trend, and chasing a version of Florence that has already been curated for them. However, on Saturday and Sunday nights, the church steps draw a different crowd. Not a passerby rushing between reservations, but those curious enough to notice a small room off the sanctuary that warmly glows with an open door.

Immediately upon entry to Mercatino Parrocchiale, you’re met with the smell of old books and a circle of Italian women conversing. Jewelry, artwork, photos, and clothing litter the room with no rhyme, reason or price tags. Trinkets and treasures are priced however the women say, typically under five euros.

All items are donated, the market is only open on weekend nights, and proceeds support the church ministry. As you weave through the aisles of the shop, you find yourself getting lost in the hundreds of dusty items lining the shelves while the comforting buzz of Italian conversation lingers in your ears.

In an era where Florence has become a hotspot for viral meals, shops and photogenic storefronts, Mercatino Parrocchiale is a symbol of discovery without TikTok or Google reviews. It stands for what international students and tourists crave but can’t articulate– the feeling of curiosity that leads to organic finds.

It’s hard not to notice the algorithmic feel of the city given the lines stretch around corners, crowds gathered in familiar clusters, and entire days planned based on what appears on a screen. Even the location of the market showcases the popularity of Florence’s city center with bustling nightlife and viral sandwich shops.

This modern way of travel through social media feels familiar. A TikTok shows you exactly what you’re going to get before you walk through the doors of an establishment, leading to a predictable and pre-tested experience. Individual restaurants and shops in Florence have gone viral for singular meals and products, which become the establishment’s entire identity.

Mercatino Parrocchiale offers an entirely different experience, where the place is defined by the people that come together in it rather than a singular item. The uniquely authentic feeling of the thrift comes from the people who create it, not the products they sell.

San Remigio’s market is a product of people coming together, offering a unique experience that is often hidden beneath an endless reel of digital content. This tiny thrift store represents a quieter, unfamiliar layer of the city that often goes unnoticed in the noise of its digital counterparts.

No one is telling you which items are worth picking up and there is no viral moment attached to a specific corner of the room, leading to an experience that feels authentic and unfamiliar. Visitors to the market must pick through the donated goods and find items that speak to them, offering a new authentic experience where souvenirs are not pre-picked by influencers or the plethora of travelers who post about their experience in Florence.

This online phenomenon of modern travel begs the question- what else are we missing?

If the most interesting and quirky parts of Florence don’t show up in the algorithm that pushes popularity, then maybe they exist just outside of it entirely. Not hidden, but overlooked. Sometimes, the best way to explore a city is the old-fashioned way, with an open mind and no agenda at all.

Moving like this allows you to experience Florence as your own, rather than through the curated aesthetic of someone else’s screen. If you have the privilege of visiting Florence, challenge yourself to follow your own sense of curiosity, even if it leads nowhere in particular.

Step into places that don’t ask to be seen. Linger where there are no lines. Let yourself get it slightly wrong. After all, the feeling of stepping out of a small shop and back into a street full of tourists completely unaware of what they’ve just passed feels like holding onto a quiet secret.

Chasing Inspiration or Chasing Instagram?

written by Reagan McGowan, Kate Cooper, Maggie Baker & Emma Stromberg

This blog feature is an exclusive bonus installment to the Spring 2026 issue of Blending Magazine: Are the Streets still Made for Dreaming?

After you finish reading, be sure to explore the rest of the magazine online—just follow this link to download the full Fall 2025 edition:
https://jschoolfua.com/images/BM/BM_151.pdf

Note: Some interviewees within this article did not provide last names and are identified by first name only.

Florence has long been a city that invites curiosity. Its narrow streets, Renaissance architecture, and centuries of art and history naturally inspire those who walk through it. Traditionally, visitors arrived eager to learn, to wander, and to discover. However today, that sense of exploration often begins long before arrival, through a screen.

This piece began with a simple question: are study abroad students and tourists experiencing Florence for themselves, or are they chasing a version of the city they’ve already seen online? To explore this, conversations were held with locals and visitors across Florence focusing on how social media shapes movement, behavior, and perception within the city.

At a small bar near Piazza Santo Spirito, Marco, a bar owner described a daily routine he has come to expect. Tourists order drinks, often Aperol spritzes, and immediately begin taking tons of pictures of them.

“Every day I see people ordering a spritz and taking five pictures before they even drink it,” he said.

For Marco, the shift is clear. Where visitors once lingered over conversation or asked about local wines, many now seem focused on documenting the moment rather than living in it.

This behavior extends far beyond cafés. Near Ponte Vecchio, Sofia, a jewelry vendor, watches tourists pause in nearly identical spots along the bridge, often for long periods of time.

“Many people come here and say, This is the spot from Instagram,” she explained.

What was once a passageway now becomes a staging ground for recreated photos. Even meals, traditionally a central part of Italian culture, have become part of this visual routine. Giulia, a server at a trattoria near Piazza del Duomo, noted that it is rare for customers to begin eating immediately.

“Before they eat anything, they take pictures,” she said.

She has also noticed that social media influences what people order, with visitors sometimes requesting dishes or drinks they have seen online, rather than asking for local recommendations.

Florence is increasingly navigated not through spontaneous exploration, but through a digital checklist. Visitors move between locations they have already seen online, following paths rather than discovering spots organically. This pattern has physical effects on the city too. Certain locations become densely crowded while others, equally rich in character, remain unseen by many.

Yet, the influence of social media is not entirely negative. For some, it serves as a gateway rather than a limitation. Andrea, who works in a gelato shop near Via dei Neri, explains that many customers discover the shop through Instagram or TikTok.

While some take a quick photo and leave, others stay, ask questions, and engage more deeply.

“It depends on the person… Some come for the photo, but others stay and talk.”

Among study abroad students, there is also an awareness of this dynamic. At Piazzale Michelangelo, Emily, a student from the United States, admits that she had seen the view online before arriving. While she found it just as beautiful in person, she was struck by the crowds.

For locals like Luca, a university student, this shift has subtly changed the atmosphere of the city.

“Sometimes it makes the city feel more like a stage than a real place,” he said, describing how public spaces are increasingly treated as backdrops for photoshoots rather than real places.

And yet, despite these changes, Florence continues to offer moments that resist this pattern. In Piazza della Signoria, street musician Matteo performs for crowds that often begin by filming, but sometimes stay to listen.

“Those moments feel more genuine,” he said. For him, the city’s ability to inspire has not completely disappeared. “Even if people come because of Instagram, once they are here, they still experience the beauty of the city.”

Florence today exists in a space between performance and presence. Social media shapes how people arrive, where they go, and what they prioritize. It creates expectations, and influences behavior. But it does not fully define Florence.

The city still offers something deeper, found not in perfectly framed photos, but in small, unscripted moments: a conversation in broken Italian, a quiet street discovered without intention, a song that makes someone stop and listen.

The question, then, is not simply whether visitors are chasing an Instagram version of Italy. It is whether they allow that version to be the only one they see.