FLUEVOG. John Fluevog. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Fluevog
Издательство: Ingram
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Биографии и Мемуары
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781928055549
Скачать книгу
today.”

      In conversation, John Fluevog unselfconsciously

      scatters words like mystic, dreams, humanity, poems,

      childlike, colour, shape, love, community and, above all,

      faith and spirituality. He is a romantic who adores his

      family and still gets starry-eyed when he remembers

      a woman who walked into his store nearly five decades

      ago. He wears his spirituality like a cozy cardigan, a

      comforting layer that kept him warm when the world

      was cold and now is just part of his everyday ensemble.

      He has made money by quietly giving it away, supporting

      people and causes that speak to his soul. His sole.

      John Fluevog’s world—call it the Fluniverse, or maybe

      Vogville—is unique. It has its own language. It has its

      own international day (May 15—John thinks you should

      celebrate with random acts of kindness). Its citizens come

      from all walks of life, but none hews to the ordinary. It is

      a world of happy colours, bold shapes and sensual lines.

      It is a world where nothing is too ridiculous to try, where

      comfort and wearability matter as much as how good

      something looks. Goodness matters in the Fluniverse, and

      kindness, and God, however you choose to define God.

      John Fluevog began his journey fifty years ago when

      he and Peter Fox opened a shoe store in a historic

      Vancouver neighbourhood. And he’s just getting started.

      This is his story.

      — Joanne Sasvari, lifestyle journalist

      “John and I started designing shoes the same year.

      We both wanted to change the world in our own ways.

      John designed shoes with a very strong point of view.

      I respected John for his courage, his consistency,

      his values, and always sticking to ‘his last.’ ”

      ALDO BENSADOUN, FOUNDER, ALDO SHOES

      21

      Celebrating International

      Fluevog Day across the

      country

      22

      In the beginning there was

      John Fluevog, grandson

      of pioneers, exploring his

      Vancouver backyard and the

      great beyond. In the 1950s

      and ’60s, he discovered his

      love of cars, fashion and

      music, and was ready to set

      foot on his great journey

      as a master shoe designer.

      23

      BEFORE THE

      BEGINNING

      1948–1969

      24

      I KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY ABOUT MY SHOES:

      Creative. Original. Funky. Sassy. Groovy. Artistic. The

      funny thing is, I didn’t have a clue that I was artistic

      until I was in my thirties. I didn’t even really like artistic

      people. I thought they were kind of sketchy.

      It turns out that I’m both practical and creative.

      That was quite a discovery for a kid who was dyslexic

      and bad in school, who almost didn’t graduate and who

      never really knew what he wanted to be when he grew

      up. A lot of my life was me not thinking I was good at

      things, then finding out later that I actually was.

      It’s been fifty years since I’ve been selling and making

      shoes, and after all this time, I’ve just started to under-

      stand who I am. It’s taken me this long to realize that

      my business has been my spiritual journey. Now I want

      to encourage and maybe inspire others who are setting

      foot on the same path.

      So let’s start at the beginning. No, let’s start before

      the beginning.

      I was born on May 15, 1948, to Ruth and Sigurd

      Fluevog, in the city of Vancouver, British Columbia, on

      the far-left coast of the North American continent.

      My sister Gail followed three years later and my brother

      Glen five years after that. We have an older sister, too,

      Karen, who was born in 1943.

      We had a very free childhood. Even when I was little,

      I rode my bike everywhere. We lived at 6th and Fraser

      and one day, when I was eleven or so, I rode my bike

      all the way from home across what was then known as

      the Second Narrows Bridge, up that steep hill to North

      Vancouver and back again. Must have been twenty

      kilometres, maybe more. The bridge, which spans the

      Burrard Inlet, had just been finished, and it was crazy

      and dangerous and a little bit scary. But we just went

      off and did stuff like that back then.

      My dad was an eccentric character, really smart,

      and a big personality, the kind of guy who was never

      embarrassed by a moniker like Sigurd Cornelius. It’s

      royalty, right? That’s the kind of man he was. He was

      a huge influence in my life—it took me a long time to

      get over being Sigurd’s son, because that’s what I was,

      Sigurd’s son. I didn’t have an identity of my own for a

      long, long time. Where Sigurd was often critical and

      demanding, Mom was loving and kind; she encouraged

      us, whatever we decided to do, as long as we were

      good and believed in God.

      They were both devout Christians—in fact, my mother

      always said she married my dad because he was the only

      true Christian around.