These Shoes are Made for Walking

My cultural association ElePHAS of which I'm a founding member just wrapped a major exhibit, A first in local history. “Shoes: From Clogs to High heels. One Hundred Years of Valdarno.” that shines the spotlight on the remarkable history of shoe manufacturing. Held at the Palazzo del Podestà, the at the historic Palazzo del Podestà, the seat of government dating from the 1400s, the exhibit featured large-format advertisements spanning several decades (the industry really took flight after the war as Italy began to rebuilt its economy) shoes created by small shops that started in garages to those created by up-and-coming houses like Ferragamo. In one massive room, my company created a series of videos showing each production phase that visitors found mesmerizing. We'd also spent months interviewing current and former industry workers who took us through the industry's humble beginnings through its golden years in the 70s and 80s and the current crisis threatening the global fashion industry. A companion book containing archival photos, our edited interviews with Valdarno designers, model-makers and factory owners, sold out and, I'm told, the publisher plans to print an expanded second edition.

This being Tuscany, the whole history isn't without controversy. There were hundreds of small family-running shoemakers at one time. When Prada began to make its mark (it first came to fame by producing purses in Milan), it started to buy up all the mom-and-pop enterprises, essentially eliminating the competition as it expanded across the globe. Some decided to close rather than sell (at the right time if one was nearing retirement age and had had a good run). Those who resisted couldn't compete and eventually closed down. Prada absorbed many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of worker. Countless others worked for Its competitors in nearby Florence. Some naturally rose through the ranks to become managers and production heads. In fact, the exhibit's artistic director who planned the exhibit's layout had a prodigious career at one of the major maisons and, given his family roots in shoemaking, gladly accepted the role – and did it all in great style. He's since moved on and his massive paintings that graced the exhibit marry the aesthetic beauty of shoes to nature. At opening night in early January, there were hundreds of people lining up to see the show – some miffed that they couldn't enter for the standing-room only conference before kick-off Over the course of its month-long run, one of the most frequent comments was, “But this isn't a provincial show; it's worthy of a major city.”

Our mayor is currently trying to find a permanent space for the exhibit. And with so many storefronts empty here, particularly after the pandemic, you'd think it were easy. It's not. There's politics, substantial funds to be raised, and making it accessible to stimulate tourism. On the second to last day, I moderated a round table featuring number of people I'd interviewed including new faces working in various aspects of the shoe trade. It was the last discussion before closing the shoe and after each speaker a round of applause. For my part, as an outsider deeply involved in her community, I felt proud to have been entrusted with so many people's stories in the name of safeguarding a piece of this area's history that touched every corner of the globe. Now, onto finding a permanent location.