My Foray Into Santoni

My lengthy search for a double monkstrap ended when I laid my eyes on the Castagna model by Santoni. I have been searching for a pair of shoes that I could wear to work as well as in more causal settings, and this particular model seemed perfect. A few months back, I tried on a “similar” looking shoe by Canali at Neiman Marcus in San Diego. The Canali leather felt rubbery and after five minutes of carpet wear, the shoes formed visible creases. This is not to say that I did not have my reservations about the particular Santoni because this was another internet purchase and Santoni is notorious for unorthodox sizing. What sold me, however, was that this particular model was from the fatte a mano (made-by-hand) line and cost less than the overpriced Canali. With that in mind, I made the purchase.

Santoni was founded by Andrea and Rosa Santoni in 1975, and gained its popularity by creating hand-made shoes that exhibited quality craftsmanship but also fashion forward styling the Italians are well known for. Just like Ferragamo (Tramezza, Lavarazione, Studio) and Testoni (Amedeo, Black Label, Studium), Santoni has multiple lines of quality. The highest of the Santoni lines is the “Signature” line which is entirely handmade. Next up is the “Fatte a Mano”-“tan sock” (i.e., the lining inside the shoe) which is entirely hand finished and antiqued. Then, there is “Fatte a Mano”-“orange sock” which is hand antiqued, followed by “Santoni Goodyear”, “Santoni” and “Nuvola” lines which are all decent but nothing to write home about. The top three lines are mostly Blake, Goodyear, Norvegese, or Bentivegna constructed (for more in depth information on Shoe Construction, check out J. Cusey’s webpage at askandyaboutclothes.com), and retail anywhere from $600 to $1200 plus.

My shoes are “Fatte a Mano”-“orange sock”, are Blake constructed and hand antiqued. They fit true to size, if not a bit roomy due to a somewhat pointy toe design. The double buckle closure, however, holds the foot in place for a comfortable fit. Compared to my Ferragamo Tramezzas, the Santoni is more substantial in size and weight. This is not to say that they are heavy or uncomfortable during wear. As seen from my amateurish pictures, the shoes have a purple hand painted sole, which is usually used on the more “fashion forward” Santoni models. The hand finish is evident in the different color of each shoe.

Santoni shoes are sold at Nordstom and Neiman Marcus. You won’t, however, find many attractive models or shoes from the fatte a mano lines there. Those who earn to see and try on fatte a mano Santoni shoes in person should visit the Santoni flagship store in New York, located at 864 Madison Avenue, but don’t be shocked by the exorbitant prices.

P.S.  Thanks to Style Forum and Ask Andy About Clothes for Santoni research.

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Shoe Collection

Back row (l-r): Brown wholecuts by Dune; black One Collection ‘Chance’ by Jones; brown One Collection ‘Step’ by Jones; black tassel loafers by Church’s; grey suede and leather two tone by Russell & Bromley; mid brown shoes by Zara; light brown Chelsea boots by Zara

Middle row (l-r): Black pointed shoes by Zara; black punchcap Oxfords by New & Lingwood; tan punchcap Oxfords by New & Lingwood; cream punchcap Oxfords by Grenson; patent shoes by Zara; black and peanut patent/leather co-respondent shoes by Dune; black canvas/leather co-respondent shoes by Dune

Front row (l-r): White shoes by TopMan; brown deck shoes by Austin Reed; oxblood double monkstraps by Nunes Correa; grey and white detail leather shoes by Zara; brown suede shoes by Nunes Correa; brown leather/canvas co-respondent shoes by Dune; brown and black leather wholecuts by Dune; patent leather Oxfords by Church’s

“Just how many pairs of shoes have you got?” they all ask when they spy me wearing a style that is making its debut. I decline to answer not because I take affront to the question but because I haven’t got the foggiest idea how many shoes I own. Do they want the numbers on the smart shoes? The leather ones? Or do they want me to include plimsolls, espadrilles and wellington boots? It was after a recent shopping excursion to the outstanding Crombie sale, and subsequent disappointment at the lack of a pair of tan tassel loafers in my size, that I decided to shine a torchlight into the unknown; there I was, ready to pay for yet another pair of shoes not knowing how many I actually owned. It is general wisdom that if you cannot readily quantify how much you have of something, you have too much.

Embarrassed by my footwear riches, I decided to sit down and count through the collection not only to satisfy myself of the actual quantity but to examine the range, to see how it had been built. I cleaned, polished and laid out twenty two pairs of smart leather shoes, all of which receive regular use. The strange setup reminded me of a photograph I had seen of the writer and celebrated dandy Nick Foulkes, sat amongst his own substantial shoe collection wearing a loud check suit, conveying a look that was an unusual mixture of apology, pride and satisfaction; I decided against replicating this mise-en-scène and left the shoes to convey what needed to be conveyed: quantity and variety.

It was somewhat strange to see all the shoes together. I had always been confident that I bought dissimilar shoes; “I don’t have” I would mutter “anything in this colour or style.” In truth, some of my shoes are quite similar indeed. It might surprise some that I, being a town-mouse, own so many brown shoes. I don’t subscribe to the ‘no brown in town’ rule as it has ceased to be relevant. Black is certainly the most traditional shoe colour to wear in the city, but considering the number of casual shoes that dominate the streets – plimsolls, All Stars and training shoes – a smart brown shoe no longer looks out of place. I noted that most of the shoes have a predominantly classical shape and style, about which I was not surprised, but I was amazed that I only owned one pair of smart slip-on shoes – a circumstance which I had attempted to adjust on my recent visit to Crombie.

I am rather glad I took the time to arrange the collection as it provides a perfect point of reference when I am considering further pairs; I know, for instance, that I have little need of mid-brown lace ups without taxing my brain or rifling through the boxes under my bed. As embarrassing as it is to own such a variety of shoes, please note that the collection pictured above does not include my seasonal range of espadrilles, plimsolls or driving shoes.

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Reminiscing With Toby Luper, Hemingway Tailors

As an Englishman interested in classic style, it strikes as a particular shame that the industrial manufacture of clothes has suffered so much in this country. Leeds used to be world famous for its suit production, for example, a natural home for the industry being so close to the mills of Huddersfield. And while England still has some of the finest tailors in the world and punches well above its weight in fashion design, domestic manufacturing is a woeful hole.

It was fascinating, therefore, to meet Toby Luper this week. Now a visiting tailor, Toby’s family used to run the biggest suit factory in the country: Black and Luper of Kirkstall Road, Leeds. Back in the 1950s the factory, run by Norman Black and Stanley Luper (Toby’s father), employed hundreds of workers and made thousands of suits for Burtons and Burberry, amongst others. Largely made-to-measure garments, the workers spent their days tending the machines – though there were always tailors on site to correct any mistakes made in the process.

It was the loss of the Burberry raincoat contract in 1991 that triggered the factory’s demise. Having begun his career selling his father’s excess suits from a warehouse in Leeds, and later joining the company proper, Toby tried to rebuild the family business under the name Executex. When that didn’t work out, he turned to personal tailoring.

And while much of Leeds’ business elite now wears Toby’s suits, more than half of his business is now in London. Coming down once a week, or whenever clients request it, Toby visits bankers in their office or uses the Holland & Sherry fitting rooms on Savile Row.

Bespoke starts at £1,850 and made-to-measure £550. The former requires a paper pattern, cutting and sewing by hand in Leeds. Toby brings all his suits to London for fittings (though preferring just the one, forward fitting). The latter is fitted here but made by a company in the Czech Republic, one that Toby’s family has worked with for more than 20 years.

Toby is not only enthusiastic but fastidious about his work. Our half-hour conversation included a debate on pre-made shoulder pads, the merits of a basted fitting and how many men would notice the difference (at first blush) between made-to-measure and bespoke. Sadly from my perspective, but perhaps fortunately for them, the answer is not very many.

There was time for a little reminiscing about the days when England was a clothing powerhouse, though. Like the work ethic his father instilled in him. The first day Toby joined, his father made him sweep the warehouse, so that he always had a riposte if an employee refused to do it. Sounds fun.

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Where To Shop In New Zealand

You may have thought I was being overly harsh about New Zealand in my last post, even unnecessarily superior. So this post is the counter point if you like, including some useful tips and suggestions should you find yourself despatched to the end of the World by your government or employer.

The sad thing is that, despite the reluctance of most men to take an interest in their appearance, there is a thriving independent designer scene and some perfectly solid antipodean high-street retailers.

Aside from Rixon Groove in Wellington, which I’ve already highlighted, if you’re in Auckland then the areas known as Parnell and Newmarket are the places to start. Parnell is mainly boutique style stores, interior design, art galleries and jewellers, not to mention cafes. Newmarket on the other hand is clothing orientated. All the outlets I encountered were home grown or from next door neighbour Australia. The creativity and originality, for a country with such a small population, really puts the monotonous high streets over here to shame.

In terms of easy high street options there is Rodd & Gunn, a very rough approximation would be a Kiwi version of Hackett -presenting a stylised notion of their nation’s sartorial traditions and qualities of manhood. That means simplicity, subtlety, comfort, practicality and quality. This last point, quality, is particularly welcome; all Rodd & Gun clothing comes with a two year guarantee. Their motto is: “If it’s not the best, we don’t sell it. If it’s not perfect, we’ll replace it. If it’s not guaranteed, it’s not Rodd & Gunn”. All the clothes have an outdoorsy feel, and they’re also the official clothier of the New Zealand All Blacks. I’ve bought bits on my sojourns to New Zealand and have been very happy.

In addition to this you have Australian retailer Country Road, a Gap equivalent, with some good basic kit and a sound overall aesthetic. If you’re looking for business shirts then try 3 Wise Men. Founded by three guys who wanted a London type shirt retailer, they approximate to TM Lewin/Thomas Pink. While they haven’t quite learnt how to copy an up market Jermyn Street shirt as Lewin’s has, they nonetheless have a nice cut and good, high, well designed fused collars, with removable collar stiffeners. I have a few of their shirts and prefer them to many London high street offerings.

So, if you find yourself out there, the sartorially inclined need not abandon hope.

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What’s A Nice Shoe Like You Doing In A Sale Like This

Trawling through the sales at department stores such as Selfridges and Harrods is no happy experience. Harrods is generally unbearable even out-of-season but smack bang in the middle of the January sales it is a tortuous whirligig that manages to make me feel physically ill. If you sell ‘all things for all people’ then you should certainly expect the latter when you offer the former for a greatly reduced price; expect them to push, expect them to shove, trample and snatch.

As much preparation time as they are afforded (virtually the entire calendar year) it is remarkable how consistently chaotic and zoo-like such establishments become in the weeks after Christmas. What is even more incredible is that the stock which, at any other time, is treated by staff with a reverence and protection causing customers to wonder whether they have stumbled into a museum by mistake, is suddenly no longer worthy of the ‘touché-pas’ pedestals; magnificently overpriced baubles, bags and beads, no longer behind glass, are left to the mercy of bargain-thirsty shoppers who rifle through stock piles and scarf bins like primates dismantling an automobile.

It was amongst this mess that I found some of the most splendid examples of footwear I have ever seen. It was an uncanny setting; dumped alongside some of the most vulgar (D&G flipflops) and absurd (Dior trainers) aberrations of shoemaking, they shone with a peculiar quality that set them apart from all other examples. They reminded me of the bespoke examples that sat in the window of Foster & Son or Cleverley with a patina to the leather reminiscent of antique furniture and a shape, classic yet contemporary, that distinguished them from the winkle-pickers and square toes that surrounded them.

The style of the shoes, though slightly fantastical (imagine Tim Burton conjuring a film about a cobbler) is beautiful to behold; the only thing that prevented me from purchasing a pair was the still-prohibitive sale price of £550 (reduced from £800). A pair of the green (yes, green) crocodile shoes, originally £5,000, were reduced to £3,500.

The Stefano and Mario Limited Edition Line is produced by the well known Italian shoe company, Stemar. It would be a disservice to say they are ‘manufactured.’ Manufacture is a cheap and greasy term that invokes a sense of scale and the Stefano and Mario collection, with only 100 pairs of each style produced each season, can hardly be considered an operation of ‘scale.’ According to Stemar it takes approximately 4 weeks to produce an “unfinished shoe” – “15 days during which the shoe must remain in the last, and at least a couple of days for finishing and polishing.”

And indeed, it is the finishing and polishing that distinguishes these shoes; “painted” Stemar say “like works of art.” Firstly, the skin is massaged with cream and a soft cloth. This is followed by days of patient polishing – a technique corroborated by a gentleman at Cleverley who informed me that the ‘old furniture’ look is about using different tones of polish and takes “a very, very long time” – and then the shoes are ironed by hand and naturally waxed to give them a deep shine. The result, as Stemar states, is a “superb pair of shoes” with deep coloured veins “…intense, artistic, just like an oil painting: hues of chestnut, brandy, walnut, hot orange, forest green and mocha.”

Besides being available at Harrods and Selfridges, they are also offered for sale in Milan, Florence and Rome, Paris, Montreux, Istanbul, New York, San Francisco, Enschede and Laren (Holland) and, interestingly, in Lagos, Nigeria, Tomsk in Russia and, perhaps appropriately, a store in Kiev called ‘Rich Boutique.’

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