Every Name Carries a Story.
Long before this was a shop, Rosario Leonardi was a man and this is his story.
The Crossing
In the early 1900s, twin brothers Rosario and Vincenzo stood on a dock in Palermo, Sicily, and said goodbye to each other.
One boarded a ship bound for New York. The other - Rosario - boarded a different ship, The Manilla, bound for New Orleans. Whatever words passed between them that day are lost now. What isn't lost is this: two brothers, born within minutes of each other, spent the rest of their lives an ocean and a country apart, building two entirely different futures out of the same beginning.
One more thing changed on that crossing: the family name. Rosario's last name was Leonardo when he left Sicily. When he signed his immigration paperwork, the final "o" was not closed clearly enough, and the name became Leonardi. His twin, Vincenzo - known in New York as Vincent - and that branch of the family remained Leonardo in the New York area, a small paperwork accident that made reuniting the Leonardo twins much harder in the years before computers.
Rosario chose Louisiana. He chose the French Quarter. And he chose to build something with his hands.
A Trade Made of Fire and Iron
In the French Quarter, Rosario became a farrier - the craftsman who shoes horses, working iron over fire until it bends into exactly what's needed. It's not a trade that forgives carelessness. You either know your material, or the horse pays for your mistake. Rosario knew his material. He became known for it, well-regarded in a city that didn't hand out reputations lightly.
He met Inga Fink, a young Irish woman, and built a life with her - not in some grand house, but in half of a shotgun double at 832 Barracks Street, the kind of narrow, shared New Orleans home where you could hear your neighbors through the wall and your children through every room. Together they raised five kids in that house.
No inheritance. No shortcuts. Just a trade, a marriage, and five children raised in a half of a house he earned by working iron with his own two hands.
What Got Passed Down
I never met Rosario. By the time I came along, he was a name in old photographs and a few stories that survived being retold a hundred times.
But something about him stuck with me anyway - maybe because of what he chose, twice. He chose New Orleans over New York, separating from the brother he shared a face with. And he chose a trade where you can't fake what you don't know. Iron tells the truth. So does horseshoeing. So, it turns out, does Murano glass.
When I started this shop, I wasn't trying to build a tribute. I was trying to sell jewelry I believed in. But somewhere in sourcing real glass from real Venetian makers - refusing to pass off something fake as something true - I realized I was doing the same thing Rosario did at his forge a hundred years earlier: working with a material that doesn't lie, and refusing to cut corners on it.
That's why this shop carries his name.
The Through-Line
Rosario crossed an ocean with nothing and built a life out of fire, iron, and honest work. I'm not shoeing horses in the French Quarter. But I'm still in the business of making sure what you're holding is real - sourced from people who actually make it, restored by hands that respect it, never dressed up as something it's not.
He built it from iron. I build it from glass. Same standard.
Real Relationships, Not Just Real Glass.
Authentic Murano glass isn't something you stumble into. It comes from real relationships with real artisans.
That's exactly why I work directly with Ercole Moretti, one of the most exclusive bead designers in Venice. Every piece I create starts there - with glass that has a verifiable origin, not a guess.
Alongside my original designs, I personally source and restore vintage Murano Millefiori pieces, bring uncirculated treasures back from my European supplier relationships, and curate freshwater pearls for those who want the same integrity in a different form.
This isn't a warehouse. It's not a dropship operation. It's one person - me - making sure what reaches you is actually what I say it is.
Why I Care So Much About "Real."
The online market for Murano glass is flooded with mass-produced imports and vague sourcing claims. I've seen too many people get burned - paying real money for something that isn't what it claims to be.
I'd rather be the seller who proves it, every time, than the seller who just says "trust me."
What Makes This Different
This is the Venice I want my customers to see. Venice is more than a place. It is an experience, a way of life that feels completely real even when the tourists leave.
The Venetians built their city in the Venetian lagoon because water was protection, but living there has always meant living with the lagoon, not above it. When acqua alta comes, the water does not stay politely outside. It comes into the buildings. If you live in Venice, you have to really want it.
Elin Hilderbrand wrote, "If you can see the ocean, the ocean can see you." In Venice, that feels literal. The lagoon is always present. That relationship with water, nature, beauty, patience, and risk is part of why real Venetian glass matters to me.
The Dogs Are Part of This, Too.
If you know me from Along Came Polly, Rosie and Bubba, you already know these dogs are not a side note in my life. They are woven into the way I work, the way I show up, and the way people came to know the person behind the jewelry.
They have modeled pieces, kept me company through long days of sourcing and restoring, and built a community that reaches far beyond a storefront. In one year alone, their Facebook videos reached 69.3 million views - a number that still makes me stop and take it in.
For a lot of customers, trust started there: hearing my voice every day, seeing the dogs, watching the jewelry become part of real life instead of something staged for a display case. Adding them here feels right, because Rosario Leonardi has always been about more than glass. It is about what is real, what lasts, and what people feel connected to.
Collecting, Gifting, or Creating
I built this shop for the people who care about getting it right: collectors who want provenance, families looking for a gift that actually means something, and makers who need materials they can trust. Whoever you are, I'd love to help you find the piece that's actually yours.