A few words with trouser-maker Salvatore Ambrosi
O’Mast is a word that means ‘master’ in the Neapolitan dialect, of the man in charge in a tailor’s workshop. It is a word befitting one trouser-maker, Salvatore Ambrosi.
An intriguing trailer 1:25 minutes long floats around on the Internet: A lone, middle-aged man, trudges purposefully down the southern archway of the famed Galleria Umberto I in a balmacaan. He tucks his hands into his trouser pockets, but not before transferring a lighted cigarette onto his lips. As he emerges into the soft Italian sunlight, he pauses briefly to reflect. Across him: the Real Teatro di San Carlo. In his mind: his beloved city, Naples.
E poi c’é Napoli (And Then There is Naples) is a continuation of Gianluca Migliarotti’s O’Mast, a documentary that celebrates the city’s biggest names in tailoring. The sequel follows in its stride, showcasing the craft of other artisans: tie-, shirt-, and glove-makers, along with several ready-to-wear, but no less exquisite, labels. And the thread that weaved these artisans and labourers together? The unquestionable love for their city.
For Salvatore Ambrosi – trouser-maker extraordinaire, subject of the E poi c’é Napoli trailer, and native Neapolitan – it is no different.
Growing up, Ambrosi, and most of his compatriots, experienced a Naples quite unlike that of our collective imagination. The streets were rough, and a kid had to be kept occupied – it was school, work, or the Camorra, Naples’ powerful brother to Sicily’s Mafia. Ambrosi’s school years were truncated, and to keep him off the streets, his mother sent him at the age of 8 to work with his father and grandfather, both in a profession that young Ambrosi would come to inherit.
From a small workshop in the gritty Spanish Quarter, Ambrosi watched his elders closely, picking up elements of trouser construction, refining his skill. But that alone was not enough. Ambrosi’s father saw the pitfalls of working amongst family – young Ambrosi was to learn the realities of life, and what it was like to be employed. Thus came a brief internship at Kiton.
By that time, Ambrosi had not only developed skills valuable to his craft, but also developed, critically, the self-belief necessary for any budding artisan – both in his ability, and of his product. Disgruntled at not being able to exercise his full potential at Kiton, he departed. After bouncing around several tailor shops in Naples, Ambrosi decided it was time to strike out on his own.
Ambrosi interrupts himself, and politely asks for permission before lighting a cigarette. One had to oblige – the man wasn’t tall, but from the silhouette of his unstructured double-breasted jacket, one could easily figure he packed a mean punch. His piercing brown eyes and stern countenance didn’t help much either. But alas, his warm demeanour would eventually betray him. Gradually, the affable Ambrosi, or Salva, as his friends and clients all over the world call him, reveals himself.
The November rain had temporarily ceased. Ambrosi lets out a few puffs. He seems relaxed. He admits interviews like these were a welcomed respite from work, which involved 8 months of travelling.
Ambrosi recalls his first trip to New York almost a decade ago. Conversing with clients in English had been impossible if not for a relative he brought along with him. Trunk shows were not as popular then, and although publicity had came in the form of a chap named Michael Alden, who broadcasted Ambrosi’s work from Naples to the world via his blog The London Lounge, the maiden trip to New York yielded only two clients – barely enough to cover his cost.
Ambrosi was just 18 at the time. He had to persevere. Over the years, there were many other walls Ambrosi had to knock down along the way.
Chief of which was setting up the business-side of things proper, which included a robust delivery system for his international orders. Ambrosi had faced certain challenges in that area a few years back, which became a controversial topic amongst the iGent population of the menswear blogosphere. Things were said, perhaps in truth or otherwise.
Initially, Ambrosi harboured certain emotions about the rumours and remarks made about him on the Internet – the platform that had so helped him reach out to the world, had suddenly, tragically, turned its back on him. Ultimately, came the decision to avoid reading what is said of him entirely – good or bad – together with the development of a certain hardened nonchalance. Nonetheless, the episode saw, and continues to see, many an Ambrosi loyalist standing firm to defend his work.
Importantly, Ambrosi is working tirelessly to improve. The Ambrosi team has since expanded beyond cutters and sewers, to include administrators to manage deliveries. Ambrosi concedes, along with a conscious attempt to lighten his Neapolitan accent, “I am ol’ways a tailor first, you must kno’.” – a statement reflecting both his fallibility, and self-identity.
One would not be surprise then, if he had continued with, “I let my work do the tol’king”.
Proceeding indoors, Ambrosi reaches for a pair of trousers. Single pleat, high-waisted – an Ambrosi signature. “It’s-a good cloth,” he comments of the kid mohair in medium grey, feeling the fabric between his fingers.
Laid flat, the product of eight hours of workmanship becomes apparent: The subtle curvature of the trouser leg, one that curved outward around the calf, then ever so gently back inward at the upper-back thigh; the meticulous stitch work of the bar tacks, the curtained waistband, and the buttoned French fly; and the cuffs, which could be unbuttoned to remove oft-overlooked dirt (the buttonholes were, in this case, not cut traditionally; rather, they were interruptions along the leg seam, and held together by two bar tacks).
But of course, fit is paramount, and the master himself encourages one to have a pair made just to see for oneself.
