Very Valentine

“It’s old to them. It’s forty years ago,” Gram says, continuing to pack shoes into the boxes.

“You’re getting married next July. Were you thinking of a sandal?”

“I’d love a sandal.”

I pull a book off the desk to show her the variations of the Lola design. She shrieks and points to a sleek linen sandal piped in pale pink with crisscross straps. “Oh God, that one!” she says, pointing.

“You got it. Take off your shoes and we’ll take the measurements.”

Rosaria sits down on a stool and removes her shoes and socks. I take two precut pieces of butcher paper off the shelf and write her name in the upper-right corner of both pieces. I place them on the floor in front of Rosaria, then help her step onto the center of each piece of paper. I trace around her right foot, making a pencil mark between each toe. I do the same for the left foot. She steps off the paper. I cut two pieces of thin twine off the wheel on the desk and measure the strap length for the top of her foot. I do the same for the ankle strap. I mark the string and put it in an envelope with her name on it. “Okay, now the fun part.” I open the closet of embellishments for Rosaria, who looks at the shelves and the clear plastic bins like a little girl who has landed in a treasure chest full of jewels and can choose anything she wishes.

We are very proud of the components we use to make shoes. Gram travels to Italy every year to buy supplies. When you cook, it’s all about quality ingredients, and the same is true for making shoes. Sumptuous fabrics, fine leather, and hand-tooled embellishments make all the difference and define our brand. Loyalty plays into Gram’s work ethic also. She buys our leather and suede from the Vechiarelli family of Arezzo, Italy, the descendants of the same ta

Most cobblers have farming in their background. The Angelinis were farmers who became butchers. Butchers often got into the ta

Early in the twentieth century, a movement occurred in Italy in which artisans (shoemakers, jewelers, tailors, potters, silver-and goldsmiths, glass makers) taught young men who desperately needed work the trade of their choice. The masters would go into small villages and teach classes in their area of expertise. The apprentice system is a mainstay in the working life of Italians, but this particular movement was as political as it was artistic, born of the need to lift the Italians out of poverty after the war. The movement spread, thus the proliferation of handcrafted Italian goods, some of which still exist today. For the families who trained together, and opened their own businesses, branding was born.

Gram buys the leather for our shoes in Arezzo, and the nails and binding from La Mondiale, the oldest cobbler supplier in Italy. For embellishments, she goes down to Naples, where she works with a young, creative team, Carolina and Elisabetta D’Amico, who create handmade jeweled ornaments for shoes. Gram often provides a rough sketch of what she wants, as well as choosing from their extensive stock. The D’Amicos make buckles and ornaments inlaid with gleaming crystals-white-hot rhinestones; dazzling faux emeralds, rubies, and cabochons. Their costume-jewel embellishments are so opulent, we call them Verdura for the feet, as they could easily be mistaken for the real thing.

We also carry a wide selection of handmade fabric ornaments, including velvet bows so delicate we position them on the thin leather straps with tweezers before sewing them on. We carry silk-flower embellishments, bold calla lilies made of raw silk, i

Rosaria looks with wonder at the clear plastic trays of rosettes. First she picks up the cornflower blue roses, because that’s the color her bridesmaids are wearing. She is intrigued by the strips of round-cut clear crystals on satin streamers, but decides they are too disco for her taste. After much deliberation, she settles on the antique cream rosettes. Then she calls her mother for her approval.

I give the sketches of Rosaria’s feet to June, who places the patterns in her bin. I pull an index card from the desk drawer and make notes. I put all of the dimensions of Rosaria’s feet on the card, then staple the fabric swatch and bin number of the rosettes. I staple the envelope with the string measurements to the card as Rosaria, giddy with delight, tells her mom every detail. She is as excited about the shoes as she is about her gown. Rosaria hangs up with her mother and turns to Gram. “I feel so proud that I’m carrying on my mom’s tradition.”

“When is your final fitting?” I ask.

“May tenth, at Frances Spencer’s, in the Bronx.”

“I know it well. Best knock-off seamstress in the five boroughs. I’ll be there with your shoes so they can do the final hem with the heel you’ll be wearing.”

“Thank you.” Rosaria gives me a hug, takes her purse, and goes.

I jot down Rosaria’s fitting date on the card and then open the file case on the desk.

“I’m giving Rosaria the shoes as my gift,” Gram says, not looking up from her work. “No charge.”

“Okay.” I mark the receipt. This is a bad time to be giving away shoes. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Gram takes the shoes she has been working on and wraps them in cotton.

“You know, with Alfred checking our numbers…”

“I know. But Alfred isn’t ru

June looks at me and raises her eyebrow as if to say, Don’t argue with her.

I tack up the order. On the bulletin board, I see a note in Gram’s handwriting. It says: “Meeting with Rhedd Lewis at Bergdorf’s, on December 5, 10 A.M. Bring V.”

“Gram, what’s this?”

“You remember that costume lady from the movie? Debra McGuire? Well, she may have been prickly, but she liked us. So she recommended us to Rhedd Lewis at Bergdorf’s, who asked to meet with us.”

“Did she say why?” I can hardly contain my excitement.

“She didn’t. Maybe she’s getting married and needs shoes.”

“Or maybe she wants to put our shoes in the store!” My mind reels with the possibilities of supplying the most elegant department store in New York City with our shoes. This is exactly the kind of break Bret was hoping we would get. We need the big guns to recognize and support our brand. “Can you imagine? Our shoes in Bergdorf’s?”

“I hope not.” June puts her hands on her hips and turns to Gram. “Remember when your husband put the shoes in Bonwit Teller’s? It was a disaster. We hardly sold any stock. The word came back that brides didn’t want to spend on their shoes when they had spent a pretty pe

“That turned us off to department stores,” Gram admits. “That was our first and last foray into big business.”

“Maybe it will be different this time. Look in any fashion magazine. Upscale shoppers are spending two grand on a purse without batting an eye. That makes our shoes look like a bargain. Maybe there’s an opportunity here.”

“Or maybe you just go to the meeting, see what she says, and then go to the Bergdorf café and have the deviled eggs,” June says practically as she takes her shears and cuts a pair of size-eight soles from the pattern paper. June looks at me and smiles supportively, but she’s been around this company long enough to know that it is highly unlikely Gram will change a thing about the way she conducts her business, even if it means she could lose the entire operation.