They chatted all through lunch on the flight, and Sarah watched a movie, while Claire caught up on back issues of Women’s Wear Daily. She had fallen behind recently, while working on the collection, and she wanted to see the fall runway shows from Fashion Week in New York, to make sure she was going in the right direction with the designs for her shoes. There was a lot to incorporate in their plans. And the inner construction of their shoes, and the materials they used, would be important as well. After reading the papers she’d brought with her, Claire fell asleep, and woke up when they were landing in Milan.
Malpensa, the Milan airport, was notorious for chaos, long delays, and an inordinate amount of theft, and it took them an hour to get their bags, and finally get a cab to their hotel, which was small, spare, and clean. It was all they needed, and they went for a walk to take a look around. It wasn’t a beautiful city, but it was the center of the fashion world.
They had dinner at a small trattoria, and Claire noticed that the local men were admiring both her and her mother, and assumed they were two friends. Age didn’t matter in Italy, her mother was still a beautiful woman, and men looked at her as often as they did at Claire, and Sarah seemed to be enjoying the attention. Even when they didn’t try to pursue it, Italian men made it clear when they thought you were attractive. It did a lot for both their egos, and Claire made more of an effort the next day when they got dressed. It made a difference when you knew that someone noticed, even if it was a stranger, and you got a casual eye and a glimmer of a smile as they walked past.
The next day they took a car and driver to the town of Parabiago. There were three factories that Claire had honed in on as good options for them, and one was the factory that Walter Adams used. They had appointments at all three. And by ten o’clock that morning, they had gotten down to business. The first factory they went to was the one she had been to several times with Walter, and they remembered her. She knew it was one of the most reliable and respected factories in Italy, they did solid work, and they did the manufacturing for several important brands in the States, and all over Europe. Claire thought it was a good possibility that they might use them, but she wanted to see the others too to compare them. This was one of the most important decisions they would make.
By eleven o’clock they were at a smaller and more artisanal factory, and many of their shoes were handmade. They fabricated beautiful shoes, with amazing intricacy and delicate detail, but she thought they were too fussy for her designs, and probably not durable enough for their customer. Their strength was evening shoes, the tour of their workrooms was fascinating, and their prices commensurately higher, due to the many hours of craftsmanship they invested in the work. They made the shoes for two haute couture houses in Paris, and the founder of the company, centuries earlier, had made shoes for Marie Antoinette, and all the queens of Italy, and they were extremely proud of it. Claire loved the tour but didn’t feel like it was a match for them. They needed something younger and more contemporary and more serviceable for the customer she wanted to target.
The third factory was strikingly modern and had impressive showrooms to showcase their current and past work. They produced shoes for almost every popular high-end brand, and several secondary lines at their price point. The factory was owned by Biagio Machiolini and his two sons, and like the others had been a family business for generations, and they were cousins of the owners of the second factory they’d seen. Everything about this one was modern, new, and exciting, and the owner’s second son, Cesare, was enthusiastic about their new brand and Claire’s designs. She showed him everything she’d done, and explained her vision, and the three of them talked for two hours, and then his father and brother, Roberto, joined them and invited Claire and Sarah for lunch and an even more private tour. They left the factory at four o’clock after arriving at noon. They’d been in Parabiago since ten that morning, and the prices they had quoted her, with a reduction for the first year to help them get off the ground, would be very helpful. Claire had a copy of the contract in her briefcase, written in English, so she and her mother could go over the fine print at their hotel, and e-mail it to their lawyer in New York. Claire was familiar with the contracts, as she had handled them for Walter and knew what to expect. And when she read it over carefully in their hotel room, there were no surprises, it was exactly as they had said. All three factories had excellent reputations, and she knew they would be in good hands with any of them. It was a matter of choice and preference, and a certain amount of chemistry, since they would be working together closely, and the factory would have to be responsive to their needs and demands.
“What do you think, Mom?” Claire asked her as she lay on the bed and put the contract down. They had had a great day, and had both learned a lot about the intricacies of the business. It was impossible not to be impressed by the history and skill at each factory they’d seen.
“I think you should make the decision,” Sarah said honestly. “You know a lot more about this than I do,” she added modestly. She had gained even greater respect for her daughter as she watched her conduct their meetings all day. She knew her stuff, and then some, as well as being a very talented designer.
They went over all three options again, and Claire had wanted to give her a voice in it, since she was their sole investor, but Claire preferred the third factory hands down, and Sarah said she did too.
“And the father is very handsome,” Sarah said with a twinkle in her eye.
“So are the sons,” Claire added. Cesare and Roberto were both in their early forties, and they’d all had fun at lunch. And the Machiolinis liked the idea that they were a mother-and-daughter team starting a business, in good European tradition, although their business had been in the family for generations.
The two women had dinner at a nearby restaurant again that night, and went back to the factory the next day to go over final details. They had heard from the lawyer, who gave it his approval. And Claire and Sarah signed the contract together, and they all shook hands. Cesare agreed to deliver all twenty prototypes to them on or before April first. It was only six weeks away, but the Machiolinis had a large, efficient operation and assured them they could meet the deadline with ease, and they could make adjustments to the fit later. Claire realized she was going to need a fit model in a European size 37, which was size six and a half to seven in the States. She could use anyone with normal feet, and would need feedback about comfort, and reliability of size. The arches had to fit just right, the heels had to hold the foot properly, and the toebox had to be just high enough for comfort without looking boxy. But with their reliability in production, she didn’t expect to have any problems there. The burden was on her now to design shoes that women loved, at the right price point, for the right market, and sell them through the right stores. The trade show in Las Vegas was going to be very important for them, and give them the feedback they needed. They might decide never to produce some of the designs if wholesalers thought they were impractical, too limited in market, or the price too high. Claire was going to try and keep their designs simple so their production costs didn’t eat their profit. She had a lot to think about, and she transmitted all her working drawings to the Machiolinis digitally.