Shoe Fantasies Made Real

By Erla Zwingle

Delicate colors combined with soft leathers—a recipe for making your foot happy.

Italian shoemaking has always been a craft dominated by men. Yet in Venice, all three of the working cordwainers today are women.

Snakeskin on a curvier version of the classic spectator shoe, popular in the Twenties and Thirties, adds a touch of luxury and femininity.

Another variation on the spectator. “People from the Nordic countries like greens, like the little forests,” Daniela has observed. “The French-speaking people like theatrical colors, red Bordeaux…”

It’s easy to appreciate the detailed back seam and “broguing,” or tooling, of the leather of these men’s oxfords. But only another shoemaker would notice and admire the subtle shape and position of the heels themselves. The inner side of the vamp (the shoe’s upper section) is inset just by a hair, while the heel protrudes just slightly on the outside. This combination helps resist the inevitable wear on the spot where the heel strikes the ground. It is one of many nearly invisible refinements Daniela learned at Tony Gatto’s atelier in Rome.

The step that Venetians call “meter tre ciodi” (drive three nails) is the pre-assembly of the vamp onto the last, and it’s famously difficult for beginners to learn. Only by perfectly positioning the vamp can any potential defects in the shape be detected before attaching the sole, much in the way a tailor takes a basted suit and puts it on the form.

There is something about shoes that inspires the mind to metaphor. For Ryunosuke Satoro, the items on our feet moved him to this declaration: “Let your dreams outgrow the shoes of your expectations.”

Fantasy and elegance do not have to conflict. Here Daniela’s training in art shows itself in the balance of color, line, and even mass.

A sleek reinterpretation of a classic 18th-century court pump, complete with the “Louis” heel made famous by French king Louis XIV and popular till the 1760s. It is sometimes also called the “Pinet” heel for Francois Pinet, who brought it back into fashion in the early 20th century.

Obviously, some of Daniela’s shoes are meant mostly for the wealthy. Yet rich people, especially women, can be crushingly demanding. “Few shoemakers can stand women clients,” Daniela says. In Rome, the shoemaker she studied under “sent them away. They exasperate you.” What wears Daniela out are the women who are never satisfied. “They’re always grumbling,” she said. “I can make the shoes, but I can’t solve their problems.”

The flat sandal (left) with a complicated combination of color and texture is one of the relatively few shoes that Daniela has made for herself. But the heeled sandal (right) was technically much more difficult, requiring minute calculations of the position of the straps to fit the foot (and toes) perfectly.

Erla Zwingle has written for dozens of magazines over the past 30 years, primarily National Geographic, to which she has contributed 25 articles as well as writing its Guide to Venice.

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Shoe Fantasies Made Real

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