There is much talk about the values \u200b\u200bthat will determine the market for years avenir, the need for a real turning point, a production level of consciousness, thinking, designing and producing products of the future. There is talk of a return to intrinsic value, durability, clarity and the absolute necessity to introduce a new ethical force global consumer market.
Well, now I'll tell you a story , a fairy tale on the edge of the global market which I think is indicative about what we risk losing sight .
Last year I decided to buy a pair of moccasins so-called "battle", to use every day even to go to work by bicycle, because I was not to sacrifice the honey-colored loafer by John Lobb. I went to a store in Milan famous and, in line with the needs of those, I bought a nice pair of loafers Sebago looking "solid" and the line rather heavy. Not exactly the kind I love, but more than enough to satisfy that particular need. After only a few months one of the two soles begins, suddenly, to break away . He told me about what were the best shoemakers in Milan, and I was given a passing to be the ne plus ultra. - "My dad brought us all his Church" - I was told. And there I went, in Corso Italy. Not specific the name because it is not nice, but be careful what I say below, so you can avoid it, if you consider it appropriate. This "gentleman", with haughty air begins to praise the virtues of his "method", he explains everything carefully what will happen to my moccasins. To me it is fine, confirm the order, and move to take the shoes a week later. The beauty of spending € 50. Almost one quarter of the cost of new moccasins.
They spend another two months, maybe less, and the same sole comes off again . I was horrified, and some taken from other things, I decide not to return to the shoemaker, not even for the just grievances. The moccasins are in the closet until my father tells me of the existence of a "great clazolaio" Avenza , one of the most depressed areas of the province of Carrara, the city where I grew up, and slowly, is making me think again about some of the stereotypes related to the alleged superiority of large cities in terms of services, in the broadest sense.
My father said: - "Go to him, he also made shoes, and I know for sure that Milan has several customers' -. And have customers, "Milan", however, apart from anything else, is a good guarantee, why certain things take place in Milan on their lot and are used to choose the best.
We went to the official delegation (my pard, my brother and me) and we had many problems to physically locate the shop. Imagine a situation Urbanis disaster: narrow and twisted, post-war building dilapidated halls of up to two levels and to make matters worse, no sidewalk. The doors of houses and shops have direct access onto the carriageway. If we wanted to have fun finding the exact opposite of Via Montenapoleone my choice almost certainly would fall on that stretch of road.
finally found the door, from which I barely passed. And I'm not really a giant. Once through here we are down in the famous shoemaker: one room large maximum (not exaggerating) eight feet square, walls lined with shelves full of crooked shoes, of course, and shelves of fortune derived from the accumulation of cartons, and old machinery of the trade . An old radio that creaks. The unmistakable smell of coatings, but especially him, "Black Dog". Black Dog, our man has one eye, but has failed to "bridge the gap" with a prosthesis, has a small crack just white. How tall do not know, because he is sitting on a stool 30 cm high and moving imperceptibly on it covers the small distances that separate him from everything he needs: a kind of electric drill, the wall tools, shoes, and of course the wheel of the radio. Although the day was very bright outside, and inside there was a dim light bulb did the rest, throwing its light yellow. When we enter Black Dog raises the eye, and pulls the cigarette from his lips: - "Wait a minute" - he says - and continues to drill a heel.
In that interminable minutes I look around, I scan the shelves, and I see that now the shoes on display are not a trivial matter. are immediately evident nice pair of English shoes, some dusty, some sparkle. Definitely not in line with the site that hosts them. Conoco my fellow citizens, I know from experience that hardly those shoes all belonged to them. It was clear that most of those shoes came from outside.
Black Dog-as she dubbed my father, for his resemblance to the pirate of Treasure Island by Stevenson - finally gives us his attention:-Let me see-she begins.
show him the moccasins that I mentioned earlier and another couple, even more battered, which will take at least thirty years, who are madly fond. He looks both pairs. The second couple, looking at him lovingly, he says - I'll see what I can do - at about the first pair the other hand, shakes his head, looking for a cigarette. The lights, turn up the eye and says: - Who's the bastard who did this? -. know the answer, was a shoemaker "dude" Course in Milan Italy . It makes me see that the seams were machine-made, so I explained that it compromises the integrity dell'intersiole. Or rather, not explained to me, makes me understand his own way. Snorted, shaking his head and smoke exchanging with the atmosphere of his small den. Yes, because you can not say that he smokes rather breathe smoke always having a cigarette glued to the right corner of the mouth. If you smoke it is generally forced to keep one eye closed. He does not have this problem . Touches the skin of the upper, tells me that is dry, the strokes and I shows as he does to resole shoes. It takes a couple of wonderful Edward Green, the turning upside down to see me cheogni point is made by hand, which he does with those hands were black, hard and calloused. As soon as you realize that you have the opportunity to speak with someone really interested in his work began to reel off anecdotes such as this is the best. It tells of a client came to Milan with a pair of Church's sore soles. He fixes it, the customer is so happy that the door to the Church in London, where he had bought, to see what had been unable Black Dog, the Pirate of Avenza . The Church gets in touch with him (who knows by what means and in what language), we compliments for the work and sends a book's official, he keeps them on display, dusty, but full of pride.
also tell us that unfortunately can not make shoes , died because the lady who made the uppers, and picks up a pair of boots quarryman handmade and fitted. With a bit of nostalgia makes me notice the details and call apostates, on the shelf above.
Once finished the stories he tells me not to hurry, because - "I am very precise, meticulous" - whispers. In larger cities, "not to hurry" means not being able to finish work before the weekend. For him there in a hurry means: - "no earlier than 20 days" -.
Twenty days that take my shoes and, with all the love in the world, the unmount, the cure, the cucirà , one hundred will smoke cigarettes, listen to old songs on the radio and I'm sure, deep fund will be glad to have known a young boy who showed interest in his work, for what was perhaps the most important thing in his life. The shoes . When you watch a great player once you understand how his art touches the ball, the question of how and when I saw Black Dog tap shoes I knew this was not a mercenary, that's not interested Riblah lights, the glamor of the big shopping streets, he only interested in his art.
Leaving her small dark cave I tried a bit of sadness mixed with excitement , like when you know the woman just too late, when you know how to love a certain deadline. I was happy to have found such a man, but I was sad because there was no one with him, there was a nephew who was there to learn. Black Dog was alone, and when they will leave a void, there will be none after him.
Well, this is what we are losing the love for something original, the fortitude it takes to pass a pair of shoes from generation to generation. If they are men like Black Dog also those who want to escape the logic of mass-market will suffer. Why is increasingly alone in his battle.
Quan return from him, in twenty days, I'll pay gladly for his work and try to steal some little secret. Then I will go to Milan, Italy Course, and I do not complain, I will see that presumptuous Solanto what it means to do their work. And do it with passion.
JS
