Carmina, by Justin FitzPatrick

When the average person thinks of the origins of well-made shoes, there are two places that they probably think of: England and Italy. I know this because I used to be one of those people, and have met many more like that. But after having spent ample time in the shoe industry, not only in America but also all over Europe (having lived now in both Italy and England), I can say that these two places (while still good) are not the only places that produce GREAT shoes. In fact, I would say that the best shoe factories in Spain would compete (quality-wise) with the best factories in both Italy and England. This may come as a shock to you, as both England and Italy have done a great job at creating a brand starting with “Made In” that has resonated in the minds of men across the world with being synonymous to the highest quality, but I can tell you from first-hand knowledge that Spain should be sitting atop that pedestal too. And the factory (as well as brand) that comes to mind, when actually thinking about the best in Spain, is none other than the legendary Carmina.

For those that don’t know, the history of Carmina is a vast one, dating all the way back to 1866, which is just as old as the world renowned John Lobb. The only difference is that the family that founded this factory has not always carried the same name. It was essentially adopted by the Albaladejo family, who were the great-grandchildren of the Pujadas family, and they (the Pujadas) were the original shoemakers whom set up a small workshop long before there ever was a factory. In 1905, after nearly 40 years of making shoes by hand, the Pujadas family opened up one of the first goodyear welted shoe factories in Spain, specifically in the Balearic islands. They carried on for nearly 60 years before Jose Albaladejo Pujadas created the brand Albaladejo in 1961. This brand then went on to become on the biggest names in all of Spain, producing around 1 million pairs of shoes in the 1980s. However, the luxury shoe market took a downturn in the late 90s and the Albaladejo family decided to transfer their location to their native Majorca and set up a new company and factory, and named it Carmina. And since that time, Carmina has been making some of the finest goodyear welted shoes that the world has known…

After stating all of these opinions, I feel that it is now time to state the facts, such as what makes a good shoe actually good? Well, let me tell you….There are a few things that separate quality shoes from their inferior counterparts. One of them is construction, i.e. the way in which the shoe was put together. Typically, the most highly regarded construction is one that is called Goodyear Welted. Now what this means, is that the shoe was created using an extra piece of leather (called the welt) to create a dual hold between the sole and the upper leather. That being, once fastening the upper leather to the last (the form on which the shoe was made), a welt is sewn onto a channel that is embedded into the insole of which at the same time is holding the upper leather in permanent place. Once this welt is sewn onto the insole/upper leather, it is then sewn to the sole to create a far superior hold than any other construction. This hold not only allows for the shoe to be re-soled, but also makes it relatively waterproof. The only downside is that the shoe is relatively stiff upon the first wears. However, due to its corked insole, once broken in, it creates a mold to your foot that makes you feel as if the foot-bed was custom.

The other things that make a good shoe is leather quality (which is easy for anyone to get right so long as they are willing to fork over the money) and the ability to create a pattern that sits beautifully on its respective last shape. The latter of these two is something that truly separates the kings from the jesters and is something that Carmina has mastered. When you look at one of their shoes, it instantly grabs you and commands respect. And what most people don’t know is that the shoes that create this feeling of awe and respect, versus the shoes that do not are generally separated by the fact that the shoemaker was able to create a pattern (the style of the upper) that sits perfectly atop the last (form) of the shoe, to create something that is visually appealing. That same pattern and last, put together by a different (and bad) pattern maker could look miles different, even though in theory, it should be the same shoe. That being, the marriage between good quality construction, good leather and great pattern/last makers, is what makes a great shoe brand and Carmina just happens to be one of the brands that does it best and does it at a price that creates the absolute best bang for your buck!!

“It was a dark and stormy night”, by Bear Graves

We all have guilty pleasures. To quote the character of Martin Vanger, the antagonist in the remake of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” ‘… we’re not that different, you and I. We both have urges. Satisfying mine simply requires more towels.’

At least one of my guilty pleasures doesn’t require towels, merely a strong stomach and epicaricacy when I encounter egregiously bad writing. I am not alone by any means, and count myself amongst the multitudes that eagerly await the annual results of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.

The English Department at San Jose State University is the sponsor of the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels. The contest is named after Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who opened his novel, “Paul Clifford” with ‘It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.’

My entry this year was

‘Pausing, with a Lomonosov tea cup near her sensuous lips, Veronica suddenly became aware of the sound of multiple MH-60 helicopters approaching her impeccably appointed, 23rd floor penthouse. Immediately, her Mossad training took control, but immediately wasn’t fast enough. Simultaneously, there was the sound of breaking glass, accompanied by the ‘thump’ of boots hitting her recently polished hardwood floors and the unmistakable sound of  rappel couplings being disengaged. Time began to dilate as she charged for her front door; exactly the spot where a shape-charge detonated. As consciousness slipped away, Veronica thought “Dear God, the Pope has deceived me!”

Sadly (for me), the 2012 Bulwer-Lytton was won by Cathy Bryant of Manchester with an opening paragraph that could qualify her as the ‘Ed Wood’ of literature.

If you have a Bulwer-Lyttonesque opening paragraph lurking within, I’d love to see it.

–Bear

Loved Ones and Pipes

Almost two months ago, I found myself doing one of the boldest, most life-changing actions in which I had ever partaken: I found myself down on one knee during the mid-day joust at the St. Louis Renaissance Faire in a full kilt, asking my girlfriend to marry me. The silly girl said yes, luckily enough for me. Naturally, this gave me pause to stop and reflect upon the many aspects of our relationship, but the one that I would specifically like to share with you is, without surprise, relating to pipes.

I remember that pipes used to be a point of slight contention between me and my fiance’ when we first started going out. Lauren came from a family that smoked cigarettes heavily and had come to despise them. Perhaps because of the success of the anti-tobacco propaganda, she had come to associate all tobacco products with cigarettes, as a lot of people do. Thus, because of the negative impact that cigarettes had on her family, she was concerned when she found out about my love for pipes.

Her fear concerned me as well, as I didn’t want to give up pipes, though I didn’t want to cause her grief. Naturally, smoking my pipes would have been the one to go if it had to, but I took this as an opportunity for discussion. I talked with her about the medical differences between pipes and cigarettes and let her know exactly why I love pipes as much as I do. I discussed at great length the joy that pipes bring into my life, the simple pleasure found in a quiet moment of reflection, and so on.

After hearing the differences, including the fact that pipes are smoked less frequently (typically) than cigarettes and are usually not inhaled into the lunges, she completely changed her tunes. She encouraged my hobby and has done her best to learn more about pipes because she knows how much they are a part of my life. There is little more touching to me than when I light up a blend around her and I see her pause, sniff the air, and identify it as an English or a Virginia.

Recently, Lauren did something that revealed her radical change in opinion of pipes.

We were attending a staff holiday party for the pub where we work and were both having a great time. It was a cold evening in December, but the heating lamps and fire pits made the back patio quite pleasant. Since the majority of the staff and friends of the staff were cigarette smokers, the majority of people spent their time on the patio, drinking and smoking and having a good time.

Along with my bottle of mead, one of my favorite drinks, I brought my IMP meerschaum and a bowl’s worth of Boswell’s Christmas Cookie.

When I pulled my pipe out, Phoebe, a server at the pub, said in her too-adorable British accent, “That looks like a whale bone!”

I kind of agree with her. It is a freehand design with a plateau-style finish at the top, which will look absolutely fantastic once it starts to color further. It was a present from my brother two Christmases ago and it has been my go-to meerschaum ever since.

Once I settled in by one of the heating lamps, with Lauren by my side, I lit up and relaxed. I truly adore Boswell’s Christmas Cookie, as you might have noticed with how frequently I have mentioned it. To me, it is absolutely the perfect aromatic, with nothing too overwhelming, but still perfectly light and sweet. It both tastes and smells like an oatmeal raisin cookie.

Once I had been puffing for a little while, I asked Lauren how it smelled. Being someone who is still allowed and able to smoke indoors, I find her opinion on the aroma of a given tobacco to be one of the biggest factors of when I choose to smoke what. There are certain ‘baccies that I reserve strictly for smoking indoors, as I know that she will like them. Mac Baren’s Honey and Chocolate comes to mind.

She heartily approved of the room note — who wouldn’t?

A couple of minutes later, as I slowly exhaled a wisp of smoke, I looked over to her and smiled. She smiled back and then made a strange face.

It looked like she was trying to suck on a straw that wasn’t there. I cocked an eyebrow, channeling Spock.

Using her lips to gesticulate, an impressive task while still having them pursed, she motioned towards my pipe.

I couldn’t believe it. Surely, she didn’t mean…

“You want to try?” I asked hesitantly. I felt like a child approaching a deer, not wanting to move too eagerly for fear of disturbing it.

She nodded.

Astonished, I handed her my pipe, which she delicately held by the stem like she had seen me do in an attempt to not get grime on the meerschaum itself.

She took the slightest of puffs and let it drift out of her mouth. It was gorgeous.

Smiling as a trail of smoke still drifted from her lips, she took another puff and handed the pipe back to me.

This continued through the evening, with me taking five puffs or so and then handing it back to her.

I cannot express how much this event meant to me. It felt like she had finally fully embraced a part of me that I had always been slightly afraid would offend her. It wasn’t until a year-and-a-half into our relationship that she saw me actually smoke for the first time.

Since that night, Lauren has treated my pipes like an extension of who I am, showing them respect and deep interest. She has even spontaneously suggested that I smoke a pipe. I’m not sure if it was because she thought I was stressed, but I think it was just because she knows how much I enjoy it.

It is amazing how much of a difference the acceptance and encouragement of my loved ones make in my ability to enjoy my pipes. I have never been one whose actions have been dictated by the whims of others, but those who get close enough to me to earn the title “loved ones” are people that I work hard at making happy.

This Spring, we both attended the Chicago Pipe Show and had an amazing time. We met fantastic people from all over the world, saw some of the most stunning pipes, and got to visit with friends over tobacco, gin-and-tonics, and laughter. While there, Lauren decided that she wanted to acquire a pipe for herself. I had purchased her a beautiful meerschaum pipe a month or so before, as I knew that it would be one that she loved — and she did — but she had found herself overcome with the same itch that assaults me every time Nick releases an update of pipes.

After browsing for some time, she decided that she had four criteria for a new pipe: she want it to be small, have bamboo, be black, and have a sandblasted finish. This was fairly specific, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to find one.

While waiting for a chance to speak with Hiroyuki Tokutomi,  I spied a pipe on the table from the Tokutomi Pipe Company that fit all of the qualities that Lauren requested. It was perfect and I snapped it up before anyone else had the chance.

Calling Lauren down from her room to the show floor, I presented her new pipe and watched her face light up. She carried the pipe around with her for the rest of the show, bragging about it to anyone that she could, and breaking it in with a bowl of McClelland’s Dominican Glory Maduro.

I know that Lauren’s initial resistance to my pipes was out of concern for my health. Now, after she has learned more about pipes, she sees them for what they are and embraces them for how happy they make me (not that they make me happier than her, of course!).

That’s the thing about loved ones. They are happy if you are happy. That’s why they are loved ones.

by epSos.de