Deirdre McQuillan visits the shoemakers of Padua, and discovers exactly what work goes into those designer Italian heels
Manolos may have become almost a generic name for sexy high-heeled shoes, but if the shoemakers of Padua had their way, we'd be referring to our Francescos, our Robertos and our Pietros, not to speak of our Barbatos. These boys make some of the most beautiful and luxurious women's shoes in all of Italy, a country famous for its footwear and whose very geographical shape is that of a boot or "stivale".
Not only do the Paduans create their own ranges, but this is where the upscale shoes of Christian Dior, Chanel, Bruno Magli, Jimmy Choo, Louis Vuitton, Anna Sui, YSL, to name but a few, are made to the highest and most exacting standards.
In one of the factories, I see an order for Alexander McQueen in production, and watch as red-heeled pink leather stilettos decorated with jewellery and chains are lined up for their final polish, each one a little masterpiece of design and craftsmanship. In another, tiny Swarovski crystals are being fixed, one by one, in the shape of the designer's initials, onto a pair of chic black leather runners for the Italian designer, Laura Biagotti, an extremely laborious manual task. A pair of see-through summer sandals is criss-crossed with fine stitched slivers of snakeskin.
In another, the leather soles of a pair of sandals have been laser cut into tiny, decorative scalloped edges. There are printed pumps made from a single piece of leather by Francesco Marchiori, ingeniously folded and twisted, a challenging task for the most experienced craftsman.
Shoes with hand-painted vamps or heart-shaped toes, tattooed leather boots with shapely curves and a collection with black lace edging are just some of the many innovative designs. Whatever the style or inspiration, Lord of the Rings or Gladiator, its execution is superb.
Padua's tradition of shoemanship goes back hundreds of years, to the Venetian "calegheri" in the 13th century. But the birth of modern shoemaking came at the end of the l9th century when a young craftsman called Luigi Voltan from Stra, just outside Padua, went to the US and discovered new production techniques. In l898, with machinery imported from North America, he set up the first mechanised footwear factory in Italy, thus creating the present-day industry in the Riviera del Brenta.
In 1923, the School of Shoe Design was set up in Stra, a centre for professional training, which until recently was housed in the famous neo-Palladian Villa Pisani palace on the banks of the Brenta.
Padua, half an hour from Venice, has an illustrious artistic and cultural history. It is the place to see the paintings of Giotto, Tiepolo and Mantegna and of course the famous Basilica of St Anthony. Its university, where Galileo taught, has the oldest anatomy theatre and university garden in the world. Petrarch spent his last days in this fine old city, which boasts one of the most ravishing cafés in the world, the famous early l9th-century Pedrocchi.
Shoemakers who grow up in this area, in which agriculture and industry flourish side by side, become accustomed to the beauty around them. "You steal the art with your eyes," says one. And interestingly, working with leather demands humidity and heat, those very elements basic to the region's climate. One morning you wake up to clear blue skies and sunshine, the next to a penetrating fog.
Most present-day shoemakers are third-generation craftsmen and many remember their fathers making shoes by hand. "The first job for a boy in the factory was hammering in two nails," recalls one. It was a tough apprenticeship. Roberto Lazzaro remembers singing loudly as he hammered so as to hear himself over the noise of the machines, when suddenly all the machines stopped. "And the next thing I was pulled up by the ear and given a kick and told to stop singing," he smiles. Though shoes may not be made to measure any more, there is still a huge amount of handwork in high quality Italian footwear.
"People don't realise," says Franco Bacchin, owner of Brunella, as he shows us around the factory "that there are 250 stages in the production of a pair of shoes." More than 20 people will handle each shoe during its production from drawing to delivery. Precision is paramount. One upper comprises 42 pieces of leather.
Pietro Cacciavillani of Mitica, who produces some 500 prototypes, of which 200 become the final range for collections such as his own Roby & Pier label, explains that each shoe begins with a wooden maquette carved by hand, then converted into a solid piece of hard plastic, the "forma" or last. Over this is placed a sheet of white paper onto which the design is sketched. This is then covered in clear adhesive tape and cut in two to form the flat pattern from which the leather is cut. Each last has its own sole, each size has its own last, so there is a huge amount of component parts.
From there, the fledgling shoe proceeds on its exhaustive journey of assembly. One machine is simply there to shave the edges of any leather pieces to be stitched together. Another formidable instrument inserts steel rods into heels in a hard, gunshot action, before the heels are tested for resistance.
The hides come from all over the world, including South America, though the best cowhides are from Europe. Goatskin, for lining, comes from Pakistan and India, sheepskin from New Zealand or Russia. The smell of leather hits your nose the minute you enter Brunella's storeroom, which houses €250,000 worth of skins including python and "whip" (a type of snake, "serpenti"), imported under licence from Indonesia.
In the celebrated Barbato factory, we are shown fish skins from stingrays used as a decorative trim on vamps and heels. The Barbato brothers, Andrea and Ugo, sons of the founder, are known for innovation and extraordinary craftsmanship, and their ideas become trends. Ugo shows me around the factory and a prototype boot made from leather and net that looks like lace. "I prefer women in high heels," says this designer who started in the factory at the age of 15. "They express the more feminine side of women and look more elegant."
Explaining the resurgence of retro trends in shoes, he says: "Young people who didn't know the 1950s and the 1960s are discovering these old shoes in the flea markets and developing new ideas from them."
We watch a young shoemaker, Lucio, stretching a decorative leather upper over a base and hammering it down with tiny nails which he spits from his mouth. "I counted the nails once and I had hammered in 850 in one hour," he says showing his protective gum shield.
You can recognise the shoes of Padua not just by their style and finish, but also by their trademark sole and knife motif stamp which dates back to 1260 and was used by the ancient School of Venetian Shoemakers.
In the l970s, the Consorzio Maestri Calzaturieri del Brenta was founded to promote and protect local footwear products in Italy and the world. Up to 10 years ago, most of the footwear from their 200-odd factories was exported to Germany; now much of it goes to the US, China and other parts of Europe. Pascal Ledwith of Arnotts started buying from Stra 15 years ago, and considers it "the heart and soul of good design and good quality".
Some brands have an extraordinary loyal following; one Irish customer orders every design from Barbato in her particular size every season, according to Ledwith. As we leave, Roberto is about to leave for Japan, and Pietro, a U2 fan and an accomplished guitarist, is off to rehearse with his band. The shoemakers of Padua may work hard, but they still like to sing, and today nobody stops them.
The shoes of Brunella, Mitica, Antonio Barbato and Francesco Marchiori can be found in Ireland in Arnotts, Henry Street, Dublin