Daily Front Row

2012 February 22

From The Daily Milan! Deconstructing Giuseppe

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Giuseppe Zanotti
Gilles Bensimon View Gallery

(MILAN) His showstopping shoes make fashion statements all over the globe, but little is known about Giuseppe Zanotti, the designer. The Daily dropped by his Milan atelier in pursuit of the backstory. BY SILVIA PAOLI

What were you like as a child?
I felt a great lack of peace. I didn’t like to be in a group. It was difficult for me to interact with the other children at church, playing soccer, and at school. I related best to those who were considered the most clumsy and weird. I experienced what we now call anxiety attacks. In primary school, I would have to leave class—and that was during the sixties, when discipline was quite strict. I may have been slapped in the face by my teacher, but I had no choice—I just couldn’t take it.

Where did you grow up?
We lived in the countryside in Savignano sul Rubicone, which had about 6,000 inhabitants. I really liked exploring. I would go past the borders of the town and cross the rivers. My first realization that the world was very large came from the radio. My uncle had one of those amateur short-wave radios, which he used to communicate with other amateurs in Spain and all around Europe. I lived between a cemetery and a train station, and watching all those trains pass by, transporting goods to who knows where, I was always thinking about ways to escape. At that time, music was my passion. As early as age 10, we would put giant antennas on the roof and listen to the first incarnation of rock music on English radio. I was still a disaster with my family and a failure at school, but music gave me a great sense of freedom. Led Zeppelin, Genesis, Pink Floyd…well, you could start flying. With music, you could dream and drink three whiskeys and say, OK, there’s something more in life.

How did you start in fashion?
My mom was a tailor. Watching those women in their petticoats changing continuously in her shop drove me crazy. I don’t mean physical excitement—it was more a feeling of eroticism, tenderness. They would wear their heels while trying things on. I was very curious; I remember every fitting perfectly. I loved it when my mom would take notes, pin the clothes and tell me about the fabrics. When I went into the field, this helped me a lot, but at the time, my energy went towards music and knowledge in general. I was “weird,” as my mom said—simply because I was curious, and I still am. I knew all the different species of flowers and plants, for example. And I still watch National Geographic.

What was the rest of your family like?
My mom is crazy by nature—she had a very strict Catholic education. She was a tailor in France after the war. But in the meantime, she became engaged to my dad in Italy, so she came back to get married. For sure, she would have done something great in France. She has always felt this pain, because they got engaged very young. My dad was a cabinetmaker—a carpenter with golden hands. After the war, he repaired antiques and frescos. At one point, there was no more work, so they opened up a café in town, and then some more summer cafés and ice cream shops. It lasted until a few years ago. They hoped that their children, my three sisters and I, would get into the business.

But instead, you began your career as a DJ.
Yes, at different stations in my hometown. It was all about creating a sequence and putting something unusual, like Wagner, between Janis Joplin and Deep Purple. There was an emotional message that would trigger something inside the listener. What’s different from what I do now with shoes? Nothing. For me, fashion comes from the gut.

So how did you switch from DJing to fashion?
I deejayed for seven or eight years; I wasn’t brave enough to leave everything and go away. But the shoe industry was very important in my town. Just as I could understand what was wrong or off-pitch in music, I could tell how a woman’s shoes would impact her overall style. I drew pretty well as a child, so I started sketching. I became a freelance designer, and I started to look for a way to change things through the shoe companies.

The luxury shoe market is fierce. Are you competitive?
Very. It’s hard, and not only because there are other good shoe designers, but also because it’s a game. The luxury houses are aggressive and so powerful that we might feel hopeless. The department stores cannot take new designers because every square meter must produce lots of dollars.

Who is your rival?
I’m independent, so I can’t really say Gucci or Prada—they are industries, war machines. But there are other independents who were lucky enough to be born, like me, in times when you could take a challenge like this. For example, Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik, Pierre Hardy, Louboutin…everyone has their own story. I have something special with my evening shoe. Now, the challenge is the sneaker.

Do you think Louboutin should be able to trademark his red sole?
Paciotti has it, Saint Laurent had it…I honestly see the red sole as Louboutin’s, because it was certainly his idea to target it. I don’t look at the shoe for the sole, but he does, and so do women looking for a status symbol. It’s like the Hermes bag.

Why should a woman still want to spend 1000 euro for a shoe?
Because women shop to dream, just like I did with listening to music. It’s my job to set you free—if you can afford it. But I respect those who copy my shoes. The woman who buys those feels feminine and beautiful, too. And when my designs are copied, it’s an exercise, because I have to show myself I have something more to say.

What makes Italian shoes so special?
We can apply the emotional dream to the shoe because we have the manufacturing skills. Leather, silks from Como, embroidery…at Giuseppe Zanotti, we have 450 employees and four factories. Everything, even the jewels, is made in Italy. But just because it’s Made in Italy doesn’t mean it is automatically high quality. We take special steps to ensure that. There are around 50 companies at our level with high standards, five to 10 of those are superlative. There are companies that produce as much or even more than us, but they have only 20 employees. This “Made in Italy” sounds suspicious.

How do you know if a shoe is Italian?
Smell the leather, notice the Redaelli silken velvet, the Imperiali silk, the Stefania chamois leather, the anti-allergy furs…you feel it as soon as you open the box. If you smell a gas so strong that you feel like you’re going to faint, it’s probably not a high-quality shoe.

Are there any trends you’re tired of?
All trends can be reinterpreted to become contemporary again. 

How do you define vulgarity?
When a women feels observed because she’s wearing something like fireworks on her feet, than that could be vulgar. The woman must always prevail.