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I grew up in San Pedro, a small town outside of Los Angeles, California and spent a full 3 months of every summer visiting my relatives in Ischia, an even smaller town (an island actually) off the coast of Naples in Italy. My name is a multi-syllable collection of letters that sound like music in Italian – RO-ZAWN-NAW FOO-NEE-CHEE-YEH-LOW – when you say it fast, it’s not so awkward.

Growing up, I went by Rosie… ironically very feminine for a little tomboy who wore a dress only when required. With three brothers and most of the kids on our street being boys, I got dirty every day, and was always kinda rough despite my small size (I’m not quite 5’ tall!).
I went to business school in college and had a great job working for PricewaterhouseCoopers for numerous years. And then I met this really great guy from the east coast whose name couldn’t have been any more American: Kevin Smith. Really? Of all the last names in the world, I fell in love with a Smith? Yes, yes indeed, I did. This guy was (is!) the perfect balance between city and country, rustic and refined, white collar and green thumb. For more than 15 years now, I have proudly introduced myself as Rosanna Funiciello Smith! How’s that for a juxtaposition?

Since I lived in California and he lived here in Virginia, much of our courtship unfolded via our flip phones and email. We flew back and forth every 6 weeks or so and within 6 months, he asked me to marry him! Within the next 8 months, we had 2 big engagement parties (one on each coast), 2 beautiful bridal showers (one on each coast), and one big wedding in California, all while still living on opposite coasts, and keeping up with our respective jobs.
After the honeymoon, I packed a suitcase with clothes and a few wedding gifts, and moved to beautiful Virginia into Kevin’s childhood home. A tiny farmhouse in Gainesville, located on a dirt road named for his Great-Great-Grandfather, it’s surrounded by heirloom blooms, green pasture, a large garden and beautiful woods. Charming, peaceful and full of squirrels, it often reminds me of the simpler lifestyle of my Italian relatives.
The farmhouse itself hadn’t changed much since 1974 when Kevin and his parents moved there, so when we were courting, he would tell me stories about the land, and how seldom a car would drive by, about the antiques in the house and in the barns. This corn sheller, was a gift from his beloved grandmother who I was lucky to know; she instilled an appreciation for antiques in her whole family.
Kevin’s Grandpa Smith, who lived down the same road like the generations before him, raised corn on the family’s cattle farm, which was dried in the corn crib, and then each day, little Kevin would run cobs through this hand-cranked farm implement to separate the kernels from the cob so he could feed all his hundred or so chickens, ducks, turkeys and geese… his friends, as he called them, since he was an only child and there were barely any people around here back then. (How do you not fall in love with a story like that?! I was smitten with Smitty!) Anyway, after years of sitting in the shed, it had fallen into disrepair, and his Dad surprised him with its restoration one weekend when he came home from college. Around here, things with flaws, dust and dents are salvaged, repaired and brought back into use, not discarded and replaced.
Stories like these, and so many others about the history of the stuff in and around the little farmhouse had me falling head over heels in love with this guy. Lucky for me, I don’t have to do any of the dirty farm jobs like clean the chicken coop or feed the pigs. At the Villa Smith Farmette, as it is now affectionately called, I get to cook the food we grow in our garden, collect the fresh eggs, decorate (over and over and over again!) and my favorite, host al fresco parties (al fresco because the house is too small for inside parties)!
Villa Smith Farmette
Between my experiences in Italy where I was steeped in history, and then falling in love with Kevin, I see old things and places with an appreciation for their patina, character and story. I keep squirrelling away treasures so they can continue to “tell stories” and inspire memories and nostalgia for generations to come.
All this to tell you that I fell in love with antiques and vintage stuff because I fell in love with a great guy from a rural little haven in Northern Virginia, where a sense of history and place enriches us every day.
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“The story of how I started Bella Villa really begins with my personal love story”
-Rosanna Funiciello Smith,
Owner of Bella Villa

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