It had
been 9 months since I had become an editor in an industry that was always
foreign to me growing up. I remember telling my boss during my interview that I
didn’t represent the ideals that the magazine stood for, “you don’t need to be
holding a Chanel bag in order to be a good editor,” she had replied to me. “It’s
your creativity and talent that I admire.” Today, I feel that the reason why i'm doing good in my job is because it is so different than who I believe i am. There's a challenge, a mystery, curiosity to learn more about an industry i was never acquainted with. But no matter where Suki goes, I go with her.
***
Day 2
of my trip. I headed towards the restaurant on the rooftop of my boutique
Venetian hotel for breakfast. I joined the two people with whom I shared my taxi the day
before, and as the morning sun expanded in the sky, it became clear to me the
kind of history this city was drenched in. Literally. An old isolated prison in
the distance, a long-standing glass blowing factory, a famous ancient church
and boats criss crossing on the water marking their time in the present. It’s the year 2013, and you my friends have survived
the wrath of modernity. Or so it seems.
My mental synchronized swimming show starring
Gondolas on the Grand Canal ended when I was pulled into the conversation on my
table. “So what is your angle? What are you planning to write about?” I was
asked. Let me give you some background about what press trips are. Brands
organize and put together trips for the press, (editors, newspaper journalists
and influential bloggers) to cover a certain event or novelty that their brand
is presenting to the public. This could be the opening of a new store, an artistic
collaboration with another organization, the introduction of a new product or
any other newsworthy happening. The quality of the coverage depends on how
creatively impressed these editors/writers/journalists are, which is why these
trips are tailored to inspire them and feed their imaginative minds. Of course
every editor thinks differently since they each have a different background,
experiences and perspectives and most importantly, a different audience and
readership!
- My passion for history
- My culture’s close connection to craftsmanship
- My family’s involvement in bag making, shoe making, and even carving on silverware.
- My background in theatre
At this point, I’m not really sure what my angle would be and but I’m starting to panic because being “under-prepared” is not something the perfectionist in me can ever accept. (p.s apparently perfectionists are strongly prone to procrastination) I always had a habit of over-studying during high school and university and on several occasions I’ve completed more sections on an exam sheet than was required. Wasting both time and energy. So here I was, amongst journalists and fashion editors from the world’s most famous titles, with a two-day chance to stand-out and prove myself to, not just my boss/magazine/city, but to one of luxury fashion’s most iconic brands. Feel the pressure?
I met Mary in the lobby. She was the only other editor from the Middle East on this trip with me, and apparently we were destined to become friends. That’s what the brand’s pr people had told me. “You two are exactly the same! You’ll get along so well!” They were right. We bonded during our car ride to Fiesso d’Artico, which is the production facility where the brand’s shoes are made and distributed worldwide. From the waters of Venice, we had moved mainland.
On the way, I admired the incredible old houses that somehow reminded me of Casper’s wooden house, with an underground laboratory and an electric chair that would spiral down to get you there on a rusty railway. I told her about my short time spent in Beirut and the blog I had started to keep myself busy. “Oh my God, Café Beirut? Of course, I know it! Lots of people were talking about your blog actually.” My intention for it was to be low-profile, I told her, and a means to an end. It did afterall, lead and prepare me for my job as a lifestyle editor today. I ran after things, I spent an endless amount of hours writing, designing, brainstorming for something that gave me no material benefit. On that day, it had brought me all the way to Venice.
I have mentioned before that my family has a history in shoemaking and repairs. Well, my grandfather was known for that. His shoes, God rest his soul, were always spotless and the habit of exceptional shoe-care was passed on in my family. There was an interesting event I attended during my days in Beirut, called Varbed Createur almost two years ago. There, I had the chance to make the acquaintance of a photographer and a shoe designer with whom I’d later collaborate. During my childhood summer visit to Beirut, I would spend lots of time in my mother’s cousin’s shoe factory which was/is right across from my grandmother’s house and is now almost run by my second cousin himself. When I say across, I mean two meters far. Shoe molds were everywhere, prototypes lined up across the shelves, the smell of cigarettes mixed with shoe wax and polish created the perfect aroma to an absolutely imperfect factory. To top it all off, the generators made an unbearable noise that neighbors complained about and the parrot they had as a pet would scream out insults in Armenian from time to time. I still remember the day they installed an internet connection on the bulky computer they had in the tiny office that reeked of Turkish coffee. I would go over to teach my cousin how to use it so that he can import designs from abroad and try to reinterpret them in his way. “Your style is too eccentric for the people here,” he would tell me. Granted the designs weren’t Gaga heels, but they were enough for the low-income families of the neighborhood. *Mental transportation back to Venice*
The LV shoe production facility did slightly differ in standards from the humble factory in Bourj Hammoud, I must say. Who am I kidding, the place a state-of-the-art shoe paradise and it was designed after the brand’s original shoe box.
- My culture’s close connection to craftsmanship
- My family’s involvement in bag making, shoe making, and even carving on silverware.
- My background in theatre
At this point, I’m not really sure what my angle would be and but I’m starting to panic because being “under-prepared” is not something the perfectionist in me can ever accept. (p.s apparently perfectionists are strongly prone to procrastination) I always had a habit of over-studying during high school and university and on several occasions I’ve completed more sections on an exam sheet than was required. Wasting both time and energy. So here I was, amongst journalists and fashion editors from the world’s most famous titles, with a two-day chance to stand-out and prove myself to, not just my boss/magazine/city, but to one of luxury fashion’s most iconic brands. Feel the pressure?
I met Mary in the lobby. She was the only other editor from the Middle East on this trip with me, and apparently we were destined to become friends. That’s what the brand’s pr people had told me. “You two are exactly the same! You’ll get along so well!” They were right. We bonded during our car ride to Fiesso d’Artico, which is the production facility where the brand’s shoes are made and distributed worldwide. From the waters of Venice, we had moved mainland.
 |
| Waiting for the cars to take us to the mainland... |
I have mentioned before that my family has a history in shoemaking and repairs. Well, my grandfather was known for that. His shoes, God rest his soul, were always spotless and the habit of exceptional shoe-care was passed on in my family. There was an interesting event I attended during my days in Beirut, called Varbed Createur almost two years ago. There, I had the chance to make the acquaintance of a photographer and a shoe designer with whom I’d later collaborate. During my childhood summer visit to Beirut, I would spend lots of time in my mother’s cousin’s shoe factory which was/is right across from my grandmother’s house and is now almost run by my second cousin himself. When I say across, I mean two meters far. Shoe molds were everywhere, prototypes lined up across the shelves, the smell of cigarettes mixed with shoe wax and polish created the perfect aroma to an absolutely imperfect factory. To top it all off, the generators made an unbearable noise that neighbors complained about and the parrot they had as a pet would scream out insults in Armenian from time to time. I still remember the day they installed an internet connection on the bulky computer they had in the tiny office that reeked of Turkish coffee. I would go over to teach my cousin how to use it so that he can import designs from abroad and try to reinterpret them in his way. “Your style is too eccentric for the people here,” he would tell me. Granted the designs weren’t Gaga heels, but they were enough for the low-income families of the neighborhood. *Mental transportation back to Venice*
The LV shoe production facility did slightly differ in standards from the humble factory in Bourj Hammoud, I must say. Who am I kidding, the place a state-of-the-art shoe paradise and it was designed after the brand’s original shoe box.
 |
| A massive sculpture inside the premises... |
