Quinta Strada

The Italians are coming, the Italians are coming--to New York City. Their beachhead: Fifth Avenue, the home of Saks, Tiffany and the Easter Parade. Their mission: to plant the red-white-and-green flag of Italian luxury products--from $50 silk scarves to $150,000 necklaces--profitably in American turf. At last count, in an eleven-block stretch of Fifth Avenue in midtown Manhattan, there were eleven Italian botteghe, each one apparently striving to be the most exclusive shop on its block. "Fifth Avenue?" asks the proprietress of one recent arrival. "Oh, you must mean La Quinta Strada."

The Italian accent is heavy and rich. At Richard-Ginori, customers select chinaware priced from $20 to $700 per place setting. Fashion Designer Valentino Garavani, whose ready-to-wear cocktail dresses can cost $800, has turned his Fifth Avenue boutique into an identical triplet of his Rome and Milan extravaganzas--all mirrors, brass and thick beige carpet. Mario of Florence, who sells women's shoes at from $82 to $420 a pair, operates out of a grand salon that could have been lifted from a jet-age Florentine palazzo. Roberta di Camerino's place, which specializes in sportswear and $200 velvet handbags, has the piny elan of a ski shop at Cortina d'Ampezzo. Bookseller Angelo Rizzoli (who sells magazines, newspapers and records in many languages, as well as lithographs that range in price from $85 to $9,000) spent $2 million fitting out his shop with Vicenza marble floors, solid walnut balustrades and Renaissance chandeliers. "This place is like a gentleman's private library," says Rizzoli Manager Robert Supree.

Genteel Privacy. Indeed, genteel privacy is the uncommon denominator of most of the Italian entrepreneurs. Bulgari, a jewelry shop that strives to make Tiffany look like a Woolworth counter by comparison, is buried so deep in the Pierre Hotel that no Fifth Avenue window shopper would know it exists. Ferragamo, a shoe salon, is set back from the avenue and not easily spotted by the unknowledgeable. "Most of our customers are celebrities," says Piero Nuti, general manager of Ferragamo. "We seldom see anyone else." Silversmith Ugo Buccellati is happiest when his sales force entertains only two customers a day. Gucci, which has two boutiques on the same block, spurns lunch-hour shoppers by simply closing for lunch--an Italian tradition that Manager Antonio Cagliarini explains is "good for the employees and for our type of business. Our regular customers know we're closed, and that's it, finito."

Except for Ginori, which is listed on the Rome stock exchange, the avenue's Italian stores are all privately owned family enterprises. Some, like the proliferous Valentino--who operates nearly 80 retail outlets round the world--have been forced to franchise a number of their shops, but keep a firm hand on their agents. Buccellati and Bulgari are brother acts: one brother minds the store in New York while the others produce the jewels back home. Salvatore Ferragamo, who got his start making shoes for Silent Screen Stars Mary Pickford and Pola Negri, left his business to his widow, six children and a nephew. Mario of Florence lives in Manhattan and commutes to his factory in Florence. "I think I'm Alitalia's best customer," says Giuliana di Camerino, who lives in Venice and commutes to New York.

There are cynics who explain the Italian invasion as less of an onslaught than a mass escape from chaos at home. "Some of the families, they're running away from Italy while they can still get out," says Ginori Director Franz M. Aliquo. But most of the shopkeepers admit to a more direct motivation. "New York is the most important showcase in the world," says Gucci's Cagliarini. Aliquo of Ginori says: "We decided to come because of the prestige, just to say we had a branch on Fifth Avenue." "Angelo Rizzoli just wanted a bookshop on Fifth Avenue," says Robert Supree. "With his dough [an Italian publishing empire with $500 million annual sales], he couldn't care less if he makes money."

Secret Profits. As it happens, Rizzoli does make money, and so do the other Italians on the avenue--or so they claim. Profits are kept secret, but yearly sales range from $500,000 to close to $5 million apiece, and even the most recent arrivals, such as Valentino and Carrano, both of whom opened last year, claim they are already breaking even.

The Italians also believe they are doing their bit to improve the quality of American life. Ginori is trying hard to help civilize U.S. bathrooms--by pushing its line of bidets. Ferragamo shoes last so long they should be sold with a 50,000-mile warranty. Rizzoli offers browsers the latest bestsellers from Paris and Rome (not to mention Asterix, the whimsical French comic-book series, translated into Italian). The Italians also believe they have upgraded the avenue itself. "Two or three years ago, Fifth Avenue was in danger of being taken over by the banks and airline offices," says Gina di Martini of Di Camerino. "It was saved by the bold Italians." The Fifth Avenue Association, which represents all the avenue's fashionable merchants, agrees. It declared a special Italian Week last month, complete with flags, window displays and a proclamation by Mayor Abraham Beame.

Not all their customers are as enthusiastic. Prices are generally high. Italian factory workers, like their U.S. counterparts, occasionally produce shoddy merchandise. Some of the salespeople--particularly at Gucci--have been accused of arrogance in their treatment of shoppers. But the clients can also be fickle. "We have had to stop making shoes to order," says Ferragamo's Nuti. "We got stuck with too many purple shoes with gold tassels that people decided they didn't want after all."

Dolce Vita. Despite such problems, many of the Fifth Avenue Italians have found the vita so dolce that they are expanding to other North American cities. Gucci has long been established in Palm Beach, Chicago and Beverly Hills. Rizzoli plans to open ten stores in the next five years, starting in Chicago's Water Tower Place next month. Di Camerino opened in Dallas last October and immediately seized on the Texas style. It bought an antique Rolls-Royce to chauffeur clients to and from the airport.

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