Custom denim jeans from Toronto’s Viapiana

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while or know me personally, you’ll know I don’t wear jeans. About a decade ago, I gave up jeans as I shifted from my old wardrobe to my new. From clothes I didn’t really think about to tailored, classic style. When I did so, I became aware of the obvious: how jeans had taken over our culture. Go almost anywhere in Toronto, almost any time of year, and most people will be wearing jeans.

And so my view on jeans started to harden, to turn into a sort of fundamentalist aversion. They became, for me, a symbol of everything wrong with our clothing culture. And as much as that’s still a concern, I have started to mellow over the last couple of years. I’ve also been attracted to the look of classic, dark denim jeans and the craftsmanship involved in traditional methods of indigo dying and construction. The options in Toronto, however, didn’t seem that great. Just lots of cotton/poly denim. And low rises. Which I’ve written about before: they are neither flattering nor, fundamentally, comfortable.

Then I discovered Viapiana Custom Denim. I visited Ben Viapiana a few weeks ago in his shared space on Dundas Street and was mightily impressed with his knowledge as well as his care and dedication to his craft. The amount he knows about the history of jeans and the intricacies of sewing machines is staggering. Also, I was swayed by the opportunities inherent in custom clothing: picking the style I want in a garment that will fit me properly. And the style I wanted was a somewhat tapered leg, neither baggy nor slim, with a medium rise.

When I commission custom suits, jackets or trousers, picking the fabric is one of the great pleasures and challenges. I assumed this part would be easy with jeans. But Ben has over fifty kinds of denim, in many shades and colours. Even within the blue range, there are so many options. With a surprising amount of textures and weights. Not to mention buttons, rivets and thread.

I wanted something relatively classic: dark blue denim. I went with a mid-weight 13.5oz, unsanforized, 100% cotton from Kuroki of Japan. [In simple terms, “unsanforized” means the denim is straight off the loom, nothing has been done (no rolling, moisture or heat) in order to shrink or stabilise the fabric.] It has a deep, dark and rich natural indigo colour and a rugged twill texture. In terms of features, once again Ben had an almost endless set of options. He can recreate jeans from almost any era, with remarkable accuracy. I wanted something simple: a five-pocket jean without a back cinch or suspender buttons, a version of the style created by Levi’s after World War Two.

In terms of the make, Ben’s process is made-to-measure with some elements of bespoke. He works from one of his own pre-made patterns, if they are close enough to your measurements, and then adjusts it. However, he will make a new pattern if your measurements require it. There are no fittings (you can’t baste or take apart denim jeans) but like in bespoke tailoring, Ben is the one who measures you, cuts the denim and does most if not all of the construction. Similar to Siniscalchi’s shirtmaking process, after the jeans are complete and have been worn a number of times, Ben can do alterations to perfect the fit where the denim has stretched.

There is little to no handwork in Ben’s process as denim is simply too heavy. That said, Ben’s skillful use of his sewing machines, almost obsessive in his passion and mechanical knowledge, is akin to a traditional tailor and their needle. And there’s a good reason for that.

Ben’s father, Benito, is a tailor, born in southern Italy in 1942. At age five, he began his apprenticeship, which included the custom of tying a bent finger in place for weeks, to develop the muscle memory needed for endless hours of hand stitching. But Benito Viapiana does not wear jeans. And he didn’t like the idea of his son, Ben, wearing them either.

“If you want to wear jeans,” he told his then sixteen year old, “make a pair yourself.” Ben accepted the challenge. His father had decided that he was too old to become a tailor—although in truth he was just trying to keep his son from a difficult and unpredictable profession—but Ben had caught the bug, after years of helping his father thread basting needles and look after his sewing machines.

Ben visited a local thrift store, bought a pair of used jeans that fit him reasonably well, took them apart and with cheap denim, began making his own pair. His father would occasionally see him at work and doubt his efforts, assuming someone couldn’t just make a pair of jeans on the first try. But Ben did. “I mean, they sucked,” he told me, “but I did it.”

And that is when Viapiana Custom Denim was born.

Ben spent the next few years making jeans and other casual garments before moving to Thailand for a decade where his business, and his craft, fully developed. But as his online and local fame grew, so did awareness of his business, a business he wasn’t legally allowed to do in Thailand. So, about two years ago, he moved back home. “Canada doesn’t have this yet,” Ben told me, “I’m going to make Torontonians see what they’re missing out on.” I pointed out that there are already a lot of people—perhaps too many—wearing denim in Hogtown. “But they’re just wearing it,” he said. “There’s no denim culture here, there’s not a deep love for it here…not yet.”

A couple weeks after being measured, my jeans were done. The denim itself looks great, such a dark and deep blue. But I must say, putting them on for the first time was a struggle. The denim was stiff, almost like cardboard. Doing up the button fly was a supreme challenge. Ben told me that one of the reasons the jeans felt so stiff is that the denim had gone from 13.5oz to 14.5oz. He had hot soaked the denim before cutting it—a process that helps reduce shrinkage once the jeans are made—as the 2.4 yards of fabric shrunk about 10 inches in length, thus making it denser.

The experience of putting on these jeans was so unique because I’ve never worn “loom-state” denim before. Never mind that I haven’t worn jeans in so long. It was not at all comfortable. But, like leather shoes which are also uncomfortable at first, the jeans will break in over time, moulding to my shape. I don’t know if they will ever be as comfortable as my bespoke wool trousers, but time will tell.

Meanwhile, I asked Ben about the craftsmanship of the garment. The first thing I noticed, when I went to slip my wallet into the back pocket, is that the top seam was thicker and rounder, not flat as I’d expected. Ben explained that it’s rope lined (a literal length of rope is inside the seam), to give it structure and rigidity. “And it’s a little harder to pull out your wallet.” Also, the seam is very pleasing in a tactile way.

I noticed a triangular stitch on the front of the jeans. Ben explained that he connects his waistband in one go, so that the chainstitch is unbroken all the way around. The triangular stitch is Ben’s own signature he created to start and finish off the stitch with some finesse. Also, the front belt loops have an extra piece, a tucked loop (with contrasting red stitching) as a bit of support, since the main loops are connected straight to the jeans (and not directly tucked into the waistband).

While picking the features for the jeans, Ben had mentioned that if I went for a polyester thread, the rivets would be unnecessary as the thread is strong enough to hold the jeans together. Since I choose 100% cotton (it has a nice, matte look) the rivets are necessary to support the front pockets.

There are a number of labels on the jeans including a leather patch on the back and a fabric one on the inside of the waistband (pictured above). The latter is attached with a Z-stitch, which looks a bit unusual as it shows as a “z” on the outside of the waistband. Ben told me that at first, he used to attach this label with a very clean edge stitch. But then an old Russian machine mechanic told him, “These jeans are too pretty. Jeans are jeans.” That’s when Ben realised his finishing should be rougher, not nicer. After all, when jeans were first created—and this is the look people have wanted to capture ever since—they were not made with aesthetic considerations in mind. They were purely practical work clothes; every step in construction had to do with durability and strength.

Of course this brought up the whole issue of authenticity. Many people bemoan traditional tailored clothes as old fashioned and disconnected from our age. Instead, they wear jeans as an “authentic” representation of themselves. But how can that be possible when jeans are as old as the modern suit?

In terms of Ben’s work, I appreciate how dedicated he is to the craft, of making jeans the traditional way, much like the tailors, shoemakers and other craftspeople I usually write about. And similar to them, Ben does not romanticise the past. “I’m just very blunt,” he tells me, “I try to give people what they need, not necessarily what they want. Because what they want won’t last two years anyways.” He also doesn’t get swept up in the obsessive myth-making of the online denim world and its marketing machines. He told me, for instance, that he puts little stock in the legend of American denim looms being abandoned after WWII and snatched up by the Japanese. “I’ve been to Japan, I’ve been to a bunch of mills, I’ve never seen a Draper X3 [an iconic mid-century shuttle loom from the US].” 

Along these lines, I asked Ben if there’s one thing about online denim culture that gets under his skin. “The term ‘raw denim’,” he told me. “I mean, anything is ‘raw’ right from the shop.” To be most accurate, he said, it should be called “loom-state” which means denim straight off the loom, without any sanforizing or washing. But, like the use of the terms “bespoke” and “tailored” by marketers, “raw” is an attempt to add an artisinal feel to the product, to elevate it above mass-produced products.

And I guess that’s where Ben’s and his father’s worlds meet. Both have dedicated their lives to crafts that few people are aware of or value. Crafts that put quality and durability ahead of fashion and low prices. However, Ben is sure he’s chosen the right path. “There’s a future in jeans,” he told me with a smile.

Viapiana Custom Denim is located at 1278 Dundas St., appointments preferred. At the publishing of this article, the cost of custom premium denim jeans like mine is $345.