Two models of the textile industry: Chinese and Italian, cheap clothes and fine recycled goods

City of Two Souls

By CHRISTIAN SCHUBERT (text) and SASKIA STÖHR (photos)

At the textile company Comistra, the fabric scraps are sorted a second time before they are recycled.

May 5, 2023 · Prato in Tuscany is testing two models of the textile industry: Chinese and Italian, cheap clothes in mass production and fine recycled goods. Who will gain the upper hand in the City of Two Souls?

Salvatore Rangino not only has a good eye, but also a knack for clothes. Under dazzling neon lights, the 54-year-old Italian stands in a barren warehouse in the midst of colorful piles of fabric, sorting through old clothes. Thousands of textiles pass through his fingers every day. Whether it's tree or sheep's wool, cashmere, linen, silk or viscose, polyester, polyacrylic, spandex or lyocell, Rangino separates what can soon be restored, what is to be recycled and what goes into the miller's incinerator.

The task is far from trivial. If he or his six employees assign incorrectly, contamination and thus inferior quality will occur during recycling. "Through the experience, you feel the difference. I don't have to look at the labels anymore, that would take too long," says Rangino. In front of his office is a large flag of the football club SSC Napoli. His father did the same job, at that time still in Naples. More than thirty years ago, he handed over the baton to his son.

"The old clothes from Switzerland are in the best condition. Germany? Goes like this. The quality in Belgium was very bad. We stopped doing those."

Salvatore Rangino, owner of Rantex

Salvatore Rangino sorting old clothes at his company Rantex near Prato.

Rangino's old clothes currently come from Germany, Switzerland and Austria; with his company "Rantex" he bought them from Caritas and the Red Cross. "The ones from Switzerland are in the best condition. Germany? Goes like this. The quality in Belgium was very bad. We stopped doing that," he says. He sells the clothes that are still wearable to Africa and eastern countries such as Pakistan and Bangladesh. It is about two-thirds of the incoming used clothing collections. Around a third is recycled – and thus right next door to the Italian company Comistra.

There, the complex process of textile production runs in reverse, so to speak. Deafening noise and acrid smell fill an industrial hall. A huge system with waterways, conveyor belts, shovels, combs, rollers and hoes crushes, spins, turns and washes the fabrics with cold water until they are just a mush of fibers. In this way, the textiles are returned to their original shape. The plant can process up to twenty-five tons of fabrics in twenty-four hours.

Textile production at Comistra in reverse gear

After drying, textile flakes remain, which are spun back into yarn. This "regenerated wool" can then be fed back into the weaving machines – just like synthetic and natural yarn made from sheep's wool or cashmere – where textiles are made from them a second time.

"If I were to give the scraps of fabric to be burned, I would have to pay thirty to forty cents per kilo. On the other hand, the kilo can be worth up to fifty-five euros in its raw state after our processing."

Fabrizio Tesi, owner of Comistra

In Comistra's warehouse, for example, you can find camel-colored cashmere cuts from well-known luxury brands. "If I were to give them to be burned, I would have to pay thirty to forty cents per kilo. On the other hand, the kilo can be worth up to fifty-five euros in its raw state after our processing," says owner Fabrizio Tesi. Recycling also saves the environmentally harmful dyeing of new materials and reduces carbon dioxide emissions because fewer sheep stomachs are needed.

Alice Tesi, daughter of the boss and head of communications at Comistra

Fabrizio Tesi is one of the passionate fighters for the recycling of textiles in Prato, for example when he is president of a local interest group. Even his grandfather made wool without sheep in the twenties of the last century. More than a hundred years later, the fourth generation has joined the family business: Alberto, the son of Fabrizio's sister Cinzia, with whom Fabrizio runs it, and Fabrizio's daughter Alice, who actually wanted to become a singer but has now decided to take over the marketing of the textile company.

A few kilometres away, another textile entrepreneur tells his family story. It is a story that begins in the Far East. Thirty-two years ago, Liping Wang left his poor home near the city of Wenzhou in the eastern Chinese province of Zhejing with his wife and young daughter. In Prato, Wang hoped for a better life, he learned Italian at work and quickly founded his own company.

Entrepreneur Liping Wang came to Prato as a young man. Today, his two children are also entrepreneurs in the Tuscan textile city. Photo: CNA

The plan worked: he still has his own yarn production business today, daughter and son both have Italian citizenship, he was even able to send them to England to study, and today they are also textile entrepreneurs in Prato. Wang now represents Chinese companies in the Italian small business association CNA. "Twelve years ago we had three or four member companies, today we have around two hundred. Step by step, the situation has improved – piano piano," he says in Italian.

Wang is sixty-four, he has two more years to work, then the pension is waiting for him – in Italy. "I wouldn't get a pension in China," he says. The only worries are the aged mother who has stayed in China. Wang and his two siblings, who also live in Italy, take turns providing on-site care. Everyone spends a few months in their old homeland every now and then.

What is new or old home for the inhabitants is not always easy to determine in Prato. The city with its almost two hundred thousand inhabitants, which borders Florence, is the largest textile center in Europe with the province of the same name around it. This is where what millions of Europeans wear on their skin every day is produced. In the past, the city was called "La capitale degli stracci", the capital of rags.

"Actually, I wanted to start my business in Vietnam, but Prato is the better location."

Niccolò Cipriani, entrepreneur of the "Rifò" brand

Today, it describes the industry as the "world capital of the circular textile economy". Since the middle of the 19th century, they have been developing special knowledge and techniques for the use of textile residues. For a long time, recycling was rather hidden and used for less fashionable products such as military uniforms or work clothes. But today, recycling is more in demand than ever because the textile industry is a huge polluter that needs answers to the challenge of sustainability. Therefore, tradition should become a trump card in Prato.

From fabric scraps to renewed yarn to fresh fabric panels: A look at production at Manteco.

Hundreds of small businesses share the work here. Everyone takes a step. At Manteco, founded in 1943, they have developed more than a thousand shades from recycled materials. The protection of the environment is attested to by the University of Turin. The final product in the form of chic clothing made of recycled cashmere, wool, silk, cotton and denim is then offered by company founder Niccolò Cipriani on the Internet and in one hundred and fifty stores under the "Rifò" brand. He is thirty-three and a graduate of Milan's prestigious Bocconi University. "Actually, I wanted to start my business in Vietnam, but Prato is the better location," he says.

Prato's roots could hardly be more Italian. Even before the Romans, the Etruscans probably settled here. The most original of all local textile pieces is, in a sense, a relic in the city cathedral – the piece of a cloth belt that supposedly comes from the Virgin Mary. From a beautiful outdoor pulpit of the cathedral, created by the sculptor Donatello, the bishop presents the relic to the people five days a year.

Dante Alighieri also mentioned Prato in his "Divine Comedy". In the late Middle Ages, the merchant Francesco Datini introduced the city to his wool empire, which stretched as far as England, Flanders and the Crimea. Closer to the present, in the seventies of the twentieth century, a hopeful son of the city set out from here to conquer the world: the actor and director Roberto Benigni, Italy's flagship comedian, grew up in Prato.

But despite its original Italian origins, the bar in Prato, where Benigni often frequented, now belongs to Chinese owners. Before the Beijing Olympics in 2008, the cabaret artist joked that it would be better to hold the Games in his hometown because there were more Chinese there.

Indeed, Prato has a second soul; you can discover them, for example, when you look at the list of names of the newborns: The three most popular first names in the city last year were Chen, Hu and Lin. And the following seven names in the ranking were still Chinese. Prato is not only a cradle of the Italian textile industry, which is trying to assert itself in global competition with sustainability and "slow fashion", the city is also a stronghold of the industry at the other end of the quality scale: "fast fashion" with constantly changing cheap goods from Chinese hands, which can hardly be recycled because of their fabric blends.

Mass-produced off-the-shelf goods from Chinese hands, but "Made in Italy".

In Via Toscana, a few kilometers from the historic center of Prato, lies the Chinatown of the European textile industry. Even in the late evening hours, the delivery and truck trucks roar all over the place. One showroom follows the other, brightly lit and some almost as big as gyms. On long poles hang the same garments in all color variations. Without exception, the Chinese companies are called "Covergirl", "My Dream", "TodayFashion", "Super Star", "Best One", "Dolce Vita" or "Royal Belle".

The customers' trucks are quickly loaded with large quantities and then quickly make their way back to weekly markets and cheap department stores throughout Europe. The dresses almost never bear the name of their Chinese producers, but the brand of the buyers. And above all, they bear the "Made in Italy" label.

The fact that the dresses were made in Italy is not a fraudulent label. But under what conditions? The name "Teresa Moda" stands for a devastating factory fire in 2013 in which seven Chinese workers died. Not only had they toiled in the factory from morning to night, but they had also slept and eaten there. It was the culmination of an exploitative system that Italy turned a blind eye to for a long time.

And today, ten years later? It is said in many places that lessons have been learned from the disaster, a wave of controls by the Italian authorities has begun, and a growing number of Chinese companies are looking for a path to legality. A few also try their luck with their own brands for end consumers in order to escape the hard existence as pure suppliers.

However, the information is also repeatedly that change is only happening at a snail's pace. When textile entrepreneur Wang proudly highlights his two hundred legalized association members, they are almost lost in the total number: the province of Prato counts around four thousand six hundred Chinese textile companies. According to estimates by the CGIL trade union, they employ around thirty thousand people – twice as many as the traditional Italian companies that operate legally but have shrunk badly over the years due to global competitive pressure.

Liu Shan came to Italy as a piano teacher and now runs a language school in Prato to teach Chinese Italian and school Chinese. Here with the teacher Alessandro Ferro.

Liu Shan was actually a piano teacher when she came to Italy from China, but in Prato she discovered another need: Chinese who wanted to learn Italian and Chinese who wanted to make sure that their children knew Chinese at school. So she founded a language school, which expanded rapidly and moved into a large building.

Today, however, she has only one classroom in which different age groups go to school; the adjoining room is also used as a study, lounge and dining room. There are fewer students than before. This is because the flow of Chinese migrants to Prato is now sparse, and young Chinese are learning Italian in Italian schools.

"I've been attacked here five times and most recently I've been injured. I'd love to move away."

Liu Shan, Teacher

A sign of successful integration? Liu Shan prefers to talk about something else. "I've been attacked here five times and most recently I've been injured. I'd love to move away," she says. The Chinese have a reputation for carrying a lot of cash with them. Some have made it to considerable prosperity; this can already be seen in the expensive car brands in the Chinese districts. Many Chinese complain about a lack of security. It is not uncommon for the perpetrators to be migrants.

Integration work in Prato: Chinese in a language course

The fact that the Chinese are being targeted is due to the change in the supremacy of the textile industry. It was not foreseeable at first. In the nineties, a steady stream of immigrants from China began to move to Prato from the then backward Wenzhou region. The migrants quickly shifted to what they did best: cutting and sewing textiles.

In doing so, they put a diligence on the day (and night) that was unknown to the Italians. Over time, more and more Italian entrepreneurs gave up. But at least they found grateful tenants for their industrial buildings in the Chinese; accountants and recruitment consultants also benefited from issuing balance sheets and payslips for the Chinese. "There is a considerable economic interest on the part of the Italians in keeping the Chinese," says union secretary Massimiliano Brezzo.

"Twenty percent of our industrial production here comes from Chinese companies. There is not only fast fashion, but also bars, restaurants, and shops, they pay rent, whether they like it or not."

Matteo Biffoni, Mayor of Prato

In Via Pistoiese, you can see how China spread in Prato: the long street is dominated by Chinese shops, from restaurants and nail salons to jewellers and two casinos to insurance brokers and its own electricity provider, which stocks up on Italian utilities and uses them to put together tailor-made packages for its Chinese customers.

Matteo Biffoni is already in his second term as mayor of Prato. He sees the multicultural side of his city as an advantage.

On the signs, the Italian translation is only written under the Chinese characters because the city administration required it at some point. "We should finally stop the hypocrisy," says Mayor Matteo Biffoni, "Twenty percent of our industrial production here comes from Chinese companies. There is not only fast fashion, but also bars, restaurants, and shops, they pay rent, whether they like it or not."

Even the right-wing opposition in the city council does not want to drive out the Chinese, because they are a pillar of the economy. "The challenge is to bring all this economic energy into a framework of legality," says the mayor. Biffoni is forty-eight and used to be a lawyer. It is his second mandate as the first citizen of the city. He is flirting with a third term in office, but the laws would have to be changed.

He does not beat around the bush and admits that the number of inspectors is not sufficient to adequately monitor working conditions in the companies. But the government in Rome is also called upon. The National Labour Authority employs six inspectors, and another eight have been announced – for four thousand six hundred companies.

Not only in Prato, many profit from the system, but also beyond. Major Italian and international brands have their products produced here, even if they are reluctant to admit it. "Some time ago, I was still working for Daniel Hechter and Bugatti," says entrepreneur Jinjian Wang, whom the Italians call Lorenzo. He founded the companies "Style Innovative" and "First Stage". Everything is legal with him, he emphasizes, but he does not want to say how many employees he has on the phone. On the other hand, he reports that he also has production in Albania, Romania and Turkey.

"In Prato, a worker earns about a thousand euros a month, in Wenzhou it is already eight hundred euros, but with a much lower cost of living."

Liping Wang, Entrepreneur

Textile entrepreneur Liping Wang adds that his son's company works for Gucci and Dolce & Gabana. This is not easy, he says, because the clients strictly monitor compliance with all regulations. The trade unionist Brezzo, on the other hand, reports on another case: An Italian leather factory, which works for the luxury house Chloé from the Richemont Group, had given production orders to a Chinese company in Prato. There, the workers not only toiled up to fifteen hours a day six days a week for a monthly wage of eight hundred euros, they were also beaten, according to three African employees, if they did not follow instructions. A court case is ongoing. Chloé claims to have known nothing about the grievances.

Such cases are probably not the rule, but we don't know exactly; even Mayor Biffoni admits that the Chinese community is a "black box" for him. In any case, business is not getting any easier for the Chinese. "In Prato, a worker earns around a thousand euros a month, in Wenzhou it is already eight hundred euros, but with a much lower cost of living," reports entrepreneur Liping Wang. For example, Chinese companies are looking for replacements from migrants from Pakistan, Morocco or Bangladesh – "the new exploited", as the trade unionist Brezzo calls them. The relationship is not unencumbered. Pakistani workers are increasingly represented by a small trade union, which calls for strikes from time to time, which have also resulted in violence. In one case, legal proceedings are ongoing. Wang complains that Pakistanis don't want to work overtime in the important months leading up to the summer season. The union replies that this demand is a form of exploitation and therefore unacceptable.

In a multicultural mix like Prato, such friction is probably inevitable. A piece of China was transplanted to Italy and is now itself facing a culturally different wave of immigration from Africa and South Asia. After all, there is work, because the textile industry feeds the city. But the rift is deep: Italians and Chinese work in separate worlds.

"Recycling is the only way – it's an obligation."

Edoardo Nesi, former entrepreneur

Actually, the Italian yarn producers could sell to the Chinese clothing manufacturers, but most Chinese prefer to buy cheap yarn in China. "The wedding that would have offered itself never took place," says Edoardo Nesi. The Italian was once a textile entrepreneur in Prato, but then sold his family business. Now a writer, he has written an award-winning novel about his history, the loss of the company and the Italian textile tradition. "These are my people; my people, who all their lives have done nothing but work," he wrote melancholy about his compatriots.

Today, the textile people of Prato include people from all over the world. The city is a laboratory of globalization. Italians there only have a chance to assert themselves if they reflect on their strengths: to make new textiles from old textiles in a resource-saving way. Former entrepreneur Nesi therefore gives the industry this advice: "Recycling is the only way – it's an obligation".

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