The shoe god
Walking into the exhibition sends the saliva glands into overdrive. There they are, 700 of the world’s most delectable treats for the feet, chronicling the 30-year career of the man whose shoes are known simply as Manolos. There’s a stiletto with a steel “Brancusi spike heel”; a jade silk mule with rich Chinese embroidery and chinchilla lining; a red pony-skin court shoe with strands of craggy coral crisscrossing the ankle; and a naughty-looking boot that encases the calf in a patent-leather “cage.” Working without any formal training, and without any design assistants, Manolo Blahnik is responsible for the concept and prototyping of every pair of shoes that bears his name. And women the world over are willing to pay the price for his artistry, from $340 for a simple flat to $14,000 for a crocodile boot.
Open through May 11 at the Design Museum, this is the first retrospective devoted to the 60-year-old designer, who lives in Bath. The gallery is divided by “walls” of simple white shoe boxes with his name in black lettering, stacked from floor to ceiling like bricks. Besides showcasing shoes, the exhibit also addresses Blahnik’s influences, from grandes dames such as Sophia Loren and Empress Elizabeth of Austria to the romantic paintings of 17th century Spanish artist Francisco de Zurbaran. He’s also a film buff whose favorite flick, Luchino Visconti’s 1963 “Il Gattopardo,” screens on a TV monitor along with selections from Francois Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard.
“We wanted to capture the mood of this amazingly creative man, and how he goes around the world absorbing architecture, art and literature,” says Gemma Curtin, who curated the show. And indeed, one can see how the tassels on a red suede boot echo those on a purse in a Zurbaran painting, and how the theatricality of Blahnik’s designs could well be influenced by film costumes.
The exhibit begins with a re-creation of the designer’s studio. The desk is stacked with art books, DVDs and the portable DVD player “he takes everywhere,” says Curtin. Leather swatches and his favorite Japanese Tombo brush pens also are scattered about, along with a pair of white gloves he wears while drawing. Blahnik begins each shoe with a sketch, then carves a wooden last, or form. Each season, he creates a distinct heel shape (spiked, rounded, square) and offers it in 50-, 70-, 90- or 105-mm heights. He creates about 200 designs every year. Shoes are modeled on a size 5, scaled up to other sizes, then handmade in a factory outside of Milan.
Curtin says Blahnik has kept his business small because he is such a perfectionist. “He has a microscopic view of every stitch, and enormously high standards,” she says. “He even made me put a bit in the exhibit explaining that the shoes on display are samples, and that they would not be up to the standards of production.”
Blahnik was born in 1942 in Santa Cruz de la Palma in the Canary Islands. He grew up on a banana plantation, the son of a Czech father and a Spanish mother. Although his father wanted him to become a lawyer or a diplomat, he moved to Paris to study art. He later moved to London to perfect his English, and began taking occasional design jobs. Paloma Picasso, a friend from Paris, arranged a meeting for Blahnik in New York with the legendary Vogue editor Diana Vreeland. It was she who encouraged him to go into shoe design.
Back in London, he began making men’s shoes for Zapata, a Chelsea boutique. But his breakthrough came in 1971, when he was asked by the flamboyant British fashion designer Ossie Clark to create shoes for his runway show. Blahnik made a high-heeled sandal that entwined the ankles with straps of ivy and cherries. Though beautiful, the shoes were not a structural success, Curtin says. The models wobbled all the way down the runway.
Still, the right people took notice of the clever design. Blahnik went into business for himself, opening his first store in London in 1973. The next year, he became the first man to appear on the cover of British Vogue, posing with Anjelica Huston.
His introduction to America quickly followed. Blahnik created a collection for Bloomingdale’s in 1978 and opened his Madison Avenue boutique in New York soon after. He continued to collaborate with designers, such as Perry Ellis and Calvin Klein. In 1997, Blahnik created the shoes for John Galliano’s first couture collection for Dior, most notably a pair of sandals that laced up to the knee with elaborate yellow and turquoise beadwork similar to that of the Masai.
What is striking about Blahnik’s creations is their timelessness. A black pump with a net veil that brings to mind a weeping widow would be as fabulous to wear today as it was 20 years ago, when it was designed. “His shoes are designed to transform you,” says Curtin. “They are filled with drama.”
The exhibition finishes with snippets of “Sex and the City” projected on a wall. It is the HBO TV series, and its shoe-obsessed single gals, that really brought the designer into the popular consciousness. In one particularly memorable scene, Carrie is confronted in a dark alley by a mugger. “Please sir,” she pleads. “You can take my Fendi baguette, you can take my ring and my watch, but don’t take my Manolo Blahniks.”
