Anyone who has opened a glossy magazine in the past couple of months will have noticed a hideous beast is on the prowl: it is called logomania. Once more the ferocious excesses of the 1980s are swaggering through the fashion jungle, and although editors are insisting the flaunting of labels is supposed to be ironic - a big millennial joke - those who remember the vulgarity the first time are shuddering.
A few honourable names are sticking to the concept of quiet good taste, however, and one of them is Tod's. It is true the roll-call of names who have a passion for the company's shoes and bags is itself undeniably glitzy: no Oscar ceremony is complete without a twinkle of Hollywood stars strolling up that red carpet in their Tod's shoes, clutching their Tod's bags. When Hillary Clinton went shopping in Paris last June, she bought two beige D bags (named in honour of the late Princess of Wales, another fan) and ordered a pair of beige loafers.
But (and this is the brilliance of the Tod's strategy) the product itself is so low-key you have to be in the know in the first place to recognise it on a famous foot (or hanging from a famous arm). The moccasins have their trademark 133 rubber pebbles on the sole, but you'd have to search really hard to find the discreet 'T' on top. Tod's aficionados can spot fellow connoisseurs in about five seconds, however; once you develop a taste for Tod's, you start looking for them, affectionately, on the street.
In Hong Kong, that can mean a lot of sightings. Despite the fact that the company opened its Pacific Place shop in the spring of 1997, just in time for the economic downturn, Tod's has been a big success here - so much so the company has just opened its headquarters for Asia (outside Japan) in Gloucester Tower in The Landmark. 'We have now, in Asia, about 15 shops,' says Tod's creator, Diego Della Valle, who was in Hong Kong for the office opening. 'In the next couple of years, we hope it's possible to have about 30 stores.' Della Valle is Italian, which will come as a surprise to the many people who are under the impression J P Tod's (as it was originally called, the J P having been dropped in 1998) is an old British or American company. The name - snappy and somehow vaguely familiar - was as carefully chosen, 20 years ago, as the image - faintly preppy, promising a classic old-money look in a thrusting new world - that accompanied it. That, like most of Della Valle's decisions, was astute.
Sitting in the Hong Kong office, which is scented by an Acqua di Parma candle (that fragrance company, too, is part of the Della Valle empire and it, too, is an unexpected success story), he gives the charming impression of being happy to talk about anything, not just Tod's.
Laid-back, absent-mindedly munching a biscuit, he evidently isn't the kind of man who feels the need to spout an aggressive sales pitch.