From within the structure of ivory white that colours the textures of the modest architectural features adorning without being a facade that wears lavish protrusions of ostensible ledges and high aspiring stoic colonnades, as warm, soft light of orange hue beams out of its windows and into the canal below it that blesses the plain vanilla complexion with a captivating sense of cheerful festive ebullience so sought by restive souls in the sleepy night, luxurious allure calls for the gondola to be immediately halted such that its mesmerised passengers may disembark from the passage over the lassitude waters of the Grand Canal.

Electric sensations explode in a flowery blossom of tender pink petals, when through the doors, greets an extravagance that is an opulence of meticulous nuanced Venetian traditional elements materialised as contemporary renditions still ever faithful to the provincial principles of a deft style characterised as rich elegance in minimalism.

And in ascension through the building with heavier arms made heavier by the contest of ownership of the many shoes and bottles of Eau de parfum in bags against pulling gravity, the exhilarating potential of purchase is infectious, and eyes are quickly lost in the shopper’s fervour that is hungry amidst this treasure vault containing crafted objects possessing indulgent exquisite sensibilities borne in their designs that have made landmarks of Hermes, Dolce & Gabbana, and Prada.

But even though as these products convey a stellar splendour that lends shoes bearing even the most matte of colours a bright twinkling, accumulated in an ironic statement that is found at highest 5, let the ushered winds take away fatigue, let the silence from beeping cash registers return you your senses once lost in buyer’s frenzy, let the sight of illuminated Venice at night remind you of a beauty that cannot be bought.