This story originally appeared on the Gents Cafe Newsletter. You can subscribe here.
Just outside Milan, there’s a place where denim isn’t just produced – it’s reimagined. Since 1938, Candiani Denim has been shaping the future of jeans, blending tradition with cutting-edge innovation.
We stepped inside Candiani Custom, the brand’s urban micro-factory in Milan, to meet with the company’s President, Alberto Candiani, and talk about carrying forward a four-generation legacy, how ice hockey shaped his leadership mindset, and why he believes a great pair of jeans – like a Porsche 911 – only gets better with age.
What are your main passions, and how do they influence your job?
My teenage years were sort of turbulent. I discovered electronic music really early, when I was still in middle school. At the time, it was all analog stuff: samplers, synthesizers. That analog mindset has definitely shaped my approach to both work and life. Of course, I rely on people who are more “digital” than me – today that’s not something you can afford to overlook – but at my core, I’m a bit old school. Just to give you an idea: I’m not on social media. I tried it briefly, and it gave me insane anxiety – one of the very few things in life that actually stressed me out. Nothing dramatic, just not for me.
Music has always been a huge passion of mine. I worked as a DJ on an international level, and eventually got into music production. I even had a band for a while – a crazy project, somewhere between amateur and professional. DJing and producing were more serious; the band was more of an experiment. But it was a beautiful experience – long, intense, and unforgettable.
I also have another big passion: ice hockey. I played for thirty years, and I still follow it obsessively. I was a goalie, which is kind of its own world within hockey – goalies have a completely different mindset compared to the rest of the team.
In a way, I see myself as a goalie in business too. In hockey, a goalie accounts for 51% of the team’s success – huge responsibility. I’m not the kind of entrepreneur who wants to be the striker, scoring all the goals. Some build their whole team around being the top scorer. Not me. I’m the goalie – my job is to make sure nothing gets past us and to support the team. It’s a protective, defensive approach rooted in responsibility. And in hockey, if the goalie messes up, he’s the first to pay the price. There’s no way around it. That kind of pressure is very similar to what I feel in business.
Another thing a good goalie needs is speed, lightning reflexes. That’s another lesson I try to carry into my work: I’m not a striker, but I’m quick to make decisions. I like building a team that can win – and to do that, you need to react fast. Over the past four years, I’ve realized this more than ever. With that goalie mindset, I’ve managed to block every kind of disaster: the pandemic, the energy crisis, a completely unpredictable market…
You are a big Porsche fan: how did this passion begin?
More than a passion, I’d call it almost an obsession. It’s something I absorbed over time, almost through osmosis, because my father has always raced. Even today, he still competes in historic Formula 2, Formula 1, and prototype races. He’s the one for the track, while my approach is different: I prefer touring-style driving.
My passion is focused entirely on the 911, in all its variations. I have a small collection, and for me, the greatest pleasure is waking up at dawn, hitting the road when the streets are still empty, and driving through the mountain passes alone. I like to draw a parallel between the 911 and how I see things in general: the 911 has a technical setup that, at first glance, seemed like a mistake – the rear overhang engine – but over time, it turned out to be a brilliant solution. In the same way, in my work, what may start off as a risky experiment often ends up being a truly smart move.
In an interview, you compared the 911 to a good pair of jeans, long-lasting and getting better with age. What do you think the car and denim world have in common?
Absolutely. A quality pair of jeans lasts a lifetime and, over time, develops a patina that makes it even more beautiful. The same goes for the 911 – especially up to the 993 generation, but even beyond. There’s something special about both the car and the fabric: they get better with age and tell a story.
Another key thing is respect for the object. I often think about the culture of repair: it’s natural to feel bad for a scratch on a car, but in reality, that’s exactly what starts to create a bond with it. The same applies to jeans: they need to be cared for, repaired, and preserved over time. Personally, I’m not a fan of extreme mods or tuning – I prefer to keep everything as original as possible, while embracing improvements that actually make sense.
There’s a deep affinity between the world of cars and that of denim. In both cases, vintage doesn’t just mean something old: it’s a cultural legacy, built on values, tradition, and passion.
Besides your job title, how would you describe your role in Candiani Denim?
Technically, my title is President of Candiani Denim, but I like to joke about it and call myself the “Goalie President” because I enjoy managing risk – or the “Intern President,” partly as a joke and partly as the truth: in a family-run business like ours, you often end up doing things that don’t exactly fall under the traditional responsibilities of a president.
Until just a few years ago, before I hired an assistant, I did everything myself – from making photocopies to handling strategic decisions. Ours is a very informal environment, and I’ve worked hard to keep it that way. My role is quite broad: It’s an attitude that comes from the context I grew up in – my great-grandfather, grandfather, and father all did this job, and I’ve followed the same path with the same mindset.
If I had to choose the part I’m most passionate about, it’s definitely the product: innovation, research, and development are areas I’m personally involved in – of course, with the support of a team. But beyond the technical side, being an entrepreneur mostly means managing human relationships. And if you don’t enjoy that part, you risk becoming detached, overly reliant on management, and creating a cold, impersonal environment.
To me, the company and the family are almost the same thing. My parents’ and aunts’ houses are all within the company compound – that gives you an idea of how deeply rooted we are in this reality. I know the vast majority of our employees by name, and more than thirty of them are second-generation. I represent the fourth. It’s not just a company; it’s a vast human network, as much as it is an industrial and technical one. And to manage it properly, you need to give it time and attention.
What are your earliest memories connected to your family business, and how did you enter the company?
I was born in Lugano, kind of by chance, but I grew up in the houses inside our company compound. My earliest childhood memories are tied to the factory, because it was just a natural part of my everyday life. I remember how normal it felt to be there: I used to play in the factory, run through the departments, and turn thread spools and bits of pallet into spaceships or airplanes. The warehouse was my basketball court, and from my bedroom I could see the finishing department. It always felt like a second home.
I was really lucky growing up – I had five great-grandparents still alive when I was born, which is pretty rare. One passed away early, but the others were around for long enough to be basically extra grandparents to me. None of them were still active in the company – the founder, Luigi, had passed away before I was born – but they still brought me into the factory and made me feel like I belonged in that world from a very young age.
I officially joined the company the day I graduated from university, at 23. My academic path was a bit unconventional: I started in Languages, then switched to Political Science, though I wasn’t particularly passionate about either. I was completely absorbed by music – in fact, when I finally focused on finishing my degree, I found out I had taken three extra exams without realizing it.
At the time, my father was pretty worried about my DJ career, which was gaining traction – I had released a couple of notable tracks and the festival scene was starting to explode. So on the day of my graduation, he was clearly relieved. After the ceremony, we went to pick up pastries, brought them to the company, and from that moment on, I officially became part of the team. I didn’t immediately cut ties with music, but from then on, the company became my main focus.
Even before graduating, I had already spent time at the company. When I was twenty, I started working there during summer breaks, doing my part like any regular intern. Over time, I became especially passionate about the product side of things.
What’s the best advice you’ve received from the previous generations of your family? And what new perspectives do you think you have brought to the company?
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned came from my father, who taught me that there are two kinds of impossibles: the kind that’s worth challenging, and the kind that’s better to accept – so you don’t waste time, energy, and resources on something that, even if achievable, wouldn’t bring any real strategic value. The real skill lies in knowing how to tell the difference between the two.
Another valuable piece of advice didn’t come from a family member, but from a key figure in our company: Roberto Grimi, our former weaving director, who worked with my father, my grandfather, and even my great-grandfather. Back in the early 2010s, I set myself the goal of reviving our selvedge weaving division – the old shuttle looms used to make traditional denim. My father liked the idea, but more from a nostalgic point of view than as a real business opportunity. For me, it was a way to show the world that the true roots of denim weren’t just American or Japanese – they were also Italian.
Roberto, who was already retired and in his seventies at the time, was the only one who truly knew those looms. He guided us through the long and complex process of restoring and adapting them – a project many within the company were skeptical about. The younger team members especially saw it as a pointless throwback, a vanity project with no real potential. But thanks to Roberto’s experience and dedication, we managed to bring that technique back to life.
That experience taught me a fundamental lesson – one I’ve come across again in the world of patents. On paper, some problems seem unsolvable: the books say certain things can’t be done. And yet, someone finds a way. That’s often the nature of innovation: either you uncover solutions where no one thought to look, or you realize the barriers weren’t as insurmountable as they seemed.
I think my main contribution to the company has been bringing a more narrative and experimental perspective. On one hand, I inherited my family’s pragmatic vision. On the other, I’ve always been drawn to exploring uncharted territory – even when the path seemed risky. And more often than not, it’s in those bold moves that the most valuable insights emerge.
One of the biggest shifts I’ve helped lead has been in marketing and communication. When I started, this area was practically untouched. Over time, I realized I couldn’t handle it alone, and that’s when Simon Giuliani came in – he now leads a dedicated team, especially focused on Candiani Tessitura.
Another significant change has been our approach to sustainability. We’ve always treated it as a scientific and technical challenge. While the industry has gone through waves of greenwashing, we’ve chosen to back up every innovation with hard data. Over time, we’ve refined our messaging to make sure we’re communicating these advancements clearly: on one side, using a more approachable tone for B2C to talk about innovations; on the other, using precise, technical language for B2B, to ensure transparency and credibility.
One project I care deeply about is COREVA – a technology that makes us the only ones able to produce stretch denim using a natural rubber instead of synthetic elastomers. This allows the fabric to be fully biodegradable and compostable, or entirely recyclable, enabling complete circularity. Our logo itself reflects this dual path: an infinite loop in which the fabric can either be recovered and reused, or, if recycling is no longer possible, turned into a resource for agriculture.
Luigi Candiani founded the Candiani mill in 1938 in Robecchetto con Induno, a small town between Milano and Genova, exactly where denim was invented 500 years ago. How does the territory influence your production, and how did this bond define the identity and the evolution of Candiani Denim?
The territory accounts for at least 50% of who we are. It’s where we come from, it’s where our roots are. You can succeed elsewhere, you can build something new somewhere else – but if you move away from that place, everything changes. It’s a matter of identity, of energy. A company is made up of its people and the land that surrounds it.
If you asked my father or grandfather what it means to run a business inside the Ticino Park, they’d probably tell you that, operationally, it can be a real pain. The environmental regulations are strict – far stricter than what anyone else in our industry has to deal with. That has an impact on costs – not just in terms of production, but across the board, because everything has to meet the standards required to run a sustainable business inside a protected nature reserve.
But it’s exactly this challenge that pushed us to think differently – to find innovative solutions and become more efficient. If we didn’t, those costs would make us not competitive. The truth is, we’ve always been obsessive about certain values: order, cleanliness, respect for the environment. It’s not something we started doing because the regulations said so – it’s part of our DNA. Being in the Park just reinforced that mindset and helped shape who we are today.
How do you communicate your connection with the Parco del Ticino Nature Reserve, and how does it inform your approach to sustainability?
When I joined the company, I realized that Candiani Denim wasn’t being communicated properly. Clients would come visit us and immediately understand our value – but there was no narrative explaining our work to the outside world.
Even though my main passion has always been the product and its innovation, communication became a central theme for me when I understood that what made our reality truly unique was the fact that we operated within a nature reserve. That context had always influenced our entire approach. But no one was talking about it – it had never been told. And yet, it was a defining trait. Our company had always focused on highly technological and sustainable solutions – not as part of an environmental strategy in the way we think about it today, but as a matter of efficiency and respect for the land.
That’s when I realized we needed to start telling our story – because our costs were inevitably higher than those of companies producing in other countries. I wasn’t looking to justify those costs, but to explain why they existed and to give real meaning to the value of our product.
We started communicating our commitment to innovation and sustainability before it became a trend. But the principles behind our choices were already deeply rooted in our company’s history – carried forward by my father and grandfather, long before anyone was even talking about sustainability.
In a market dominated by fast fashion giants, Candiani Denim remained an independent, family-owned business. How difficult has it been to preserve this identity, and what benefits has it offered?
Maintaining our independence hasn’t been easy, but it’s also been our greatest strength. Candiani is a family business, and that means having complete control over what we do and how we do it. We’ve always tried to stand out by focusing on quality, innovation, and sustainability – avoiding competition based purely on price, which we could never win against the giants of fast fashion.
What truly makes us unique is our vertical integration: we literally start from the cotton seed and go all the way to the finished pair of jeans. We were pioneers in promoting regenerative cotton farming, and we’ve consistently pushed the boundaries of sustainable innovation.
One thing I’ve always noticed is that when clients come visit us, they fall in love with Candiani. Our company is clean, efficient, and communicates the feeling of a place that knows exactly what it’s doing – and has been doing it for a very long time. That blend of craftsmanship and industry is the heart of our uniqueness.
In a sector where many have shut down their factories or moved production elsewhere, we stayed. We kept innovating and growing, always finding balance between the textile world, the Candiani brand, and the finished product. That’s our path forward.
Candiani Custom, the first urban micro-factory in the heart of Milan, is redefining the concept of made to measure denim, blending craftsmanship and sustainable innovation. What major challenges did you face to transform an industrial process in a boutique experience? And how do you think this can influence how people approach, choose and live denim?
It all started in 2018. I found the space almost by chance, while having an aperitivo at the kiosk across the street; I saw the “for sale” sign, and I had an intuition: I had liked this little square for years, and I decided it was the right spot to open our space. Initially, it was just a jeans store, launched with the idea of collaborating with our customers to create limited-edition pieces. Then the space next door became available, and I decided to buy it to expand the store. It was so big that we could create a micro-factory to make custom denim, so we turned it into something much bigger, while still offering customers the chance to create special pieces with us.
Today, we offer two different options. The “custom” is a nearly finished pair of jeans, but customizable in details: you can modify the length, choose buttons, rivets, colors, leather patches, and embroidery. The “made-to-measure”, on the other hand, starts completely from scratch. It’s not fully bespoke, but there are several fits to try, especially for men, where the made-to-measure concept works better for jeans. And since the store is mainly for men, to complete the experience we’ve also added a barber: those who order a made-to-measure pair of jeans can get a shave and a haircut while we finish the jeans, and then leave with a perfect pair of denim and a fresh look.
It’s been quite an adventure. We opened in March 2020, right in the middle of the pandemic, and only now, after significant investments, are we starting to see the results. Candiani has always been a strong name in the B2B industry, but the relationship with the end consumer is still being built. That’s why, in addition to the micro-factory, we also opened Candiani Corner, where we’re nurturing our brands. The first is Coreva Design, centered around Coreva technology, the first biodegradable elasticized denim, developed specifically to validate the patent. Then there’s TRC, which stands for Tessitura di Robecchetto Candiani, our workwear brand born during Covid.
Alongside our brands, Candiani Corner offers a selection of independent labels curated by Ferramenta, a store in Bologna, and it has become a perfect space for events. It’s a place with a soul, and it came about very spontaneously. Even the kiosk across the street is part of this story: we used to go there for after-work aperitivi, and one day we discovered it was for sale – so we ended up buying it too!
The real challenge was reproducing an industrial process on a smaller scale without losing efficiency. For some suppliers, it seemed impossible: we adapted industrial machines to the smaller spaces, and we developed an automated cutting table. Thanks to this system, we can digitize every pattern, so the customer has their personalized model forever. If they don’t gain or lose too much weight, they can reorder their jeans without even needing to take new measurements.
What’s happening now, and what I find beautiful, is that customers are returning for the experience. Those who already have their pattern often come to try new fabrics, to see the latest designs, because they now have a relationship with their jeans. This is the biggest change: before, denim was an industrial, standardized product; now it’s become personal. It’s no longer just a pair of jeans, but a garment that tells a story, made to last over time, and built around the person who wears it.
Working in the fashion world, your wardrobe is probably quite wide. Is it dominated by jeans, or are there other garments that you love and tell a special story?
More than jeans, I’m actually overwhelmed by a massive collection of caps, a passion that has led me to accumulate quite a remarkable number. It’s not exactly a collection, but more of a compulsive habit – I buy them without any particular reason. As a teenager, I was a huge fan of the Seattle Supersonics. Then, however, came the team’s rebranding, which I didn’t particularly like, and shortly after, the team moved to Oklahoma City. At that point, I found myself without a team to belong to, and this made me reflect on how strong the connection to a brand or visual identity can be. For years, I continued to collect Sonics memorabilia, without even realizing it.
Another passion I’ve developed is for Missoni, particularly its ability to use fabrics with a very strong identity, instantly recognizable at first sight. This is a lesson I’ve tried to apply in my work with denim, although it’s been a very difficult task. With Coreva Design, I think I’ve partly succeeded, but sometimes, by pushing the concept too far, it risks becoming less commercially appealing. My goal has always been to create a denim that, at first glance, is immediately recognizable as a Candiani product.
I’m also a big admirer of Junya Watanabe and Comme des Garçons. Even though I like to joke that the Japanese didn’t invent denim, I recognize their incredible role in fabric processing, especially in selvedge weaving.
In my wardrobe, there’s also a selection of French workwear items and a large quantity of t-shirts, but what really interests me are sample garments, prototypes from other brands. It’s not about copying, but taking inspiration, maybe adapting a model with a different fabric or a special treatment. It’s a creative process I find very stimulating.
Indeed, one of the items I’m most attached to is a leather jacket from HTC Los Angeles that never made it into production, a gift from Andrea Brà. It’s a piece I cherish, and one of the few things I’m afraid of ruining. Leather, however, like denim, becomes more beautiful the more it’s worn. That’s why I wear it sometimes, then put it back in its place with a certain respect. It’s truly one of the few pieces I’m concerned about damaging. As for the rest, I live in my clothes, I try them on, and I constantly test them. In the end, I’m the first beta tester of everything we create.
Is there a trip that influenced your life or has shaped your vision of the job?
I’ve traveled a lot in my life, but my favorite trip is always the one that takes me to my “refuge” on Lake Monate, where I have a small house. I try to escape there as much as possible – it’s truly my special place: I discovered it when I was around five years old, and I went with my family to Lake Varese. It wasn’t exactly an exotic trip, but the feeling I had when I saw that lake stayed with me. I remember thinking, “Why don’t we live here?” I was so struck by the beauty of the place that I’ve been looking for a similar spot for several years. In the end, I found it on Lake Monate, where I bought that house without thinking too much about it.
If we’re talking about experiences that truly influenced me, there were trips that really changed me. The first time in Japan was crucial, as was my first time in the United States. After that, America became almost a second home, not only for professional reasons but also personal ones, as I have three children born there.
