And a lot of people never bothered to find out.
So, I guess you could say it was struggling. Then one
day Peter told me he was thinking about going out
on his own and wondered if I wanted to go with him.
Why not? I thought. I had nothing else to do.
Peter found a location for the store he wanted to
open and my dad offered to loan him some money—
$13,500—to get started as long as he made me a 50
percent partner. I had no business skills, but I looked
good and I dressed well, so Peter agreed. And so, in
1970, we signed a lease and Fox & Fluevog was born.
1970
Not long after Fox & Fluevog opens,
international supermodel Kecia Nyman
walks into the store and walks out
with John’s heart. Three months
later, they’re married, and John is
hobnobbing with the jet set.
Around Christmas of 1969, John meets
Peter Fox, manager of Sheppard Shoes,
at his parents’ church. In 1970, the two
open a shoe store in historic Gastown.
The partnership, known as Fox &
Fluevog, lasts a decade.
1971197048
49
We celebrated with dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory
(which is still there, beside our existing flagship store).
Fox & Fluevog was a revolutionary shop in Vancouver,
maybe in the world. It was located in a vintage building
in the most historic part of the city, Gastown, a neigh-
bourhood of cobblestone streets and brick low-rises
that date back to the nineteenth century. It’s named
for a saloonkeeper, “Gassy Jack” Deighton. This is
where the city began, but for a long time it was pretty
rough—in the Dirty Thirties it was all warehouses and
hobo camps; after the Second World War it was the
city’s skid row. Then in the 1960s, the city planned to
put a freeway through here. That woke everyone up, and
people began to realize how beautiful the old buildings
were, and they decided to preserve them instead.
In the 1960s and ’70s, Gastown was really interesting.
It was really fun. It was revolutionary. It was that sense
that we could change the world. Hippies, peaceniks
and draft dodgers came to Vancouver from all over
North America, and everyone hung out here. My first
employee, Robert, lived in a commune, and they all had
multiple partners. It’s just the way it was back then.
Gastown was filled with bars and pubs and boutiques,
and I remember a hip vegetarian restaurant called the
Aspidistra that used to play LGFM, the alternative radio
station. Hip was different back then; it was a little
hippier, a little grungier. There was lots of Grateful Dead.
There was lots of pot, too, and other drugs. In 1971,
a bunch of hippies held a “Grasstown Smoke-in,” which
was busted up by the cops—it became known as the
Gastown riot, and it happened right outside our store.
Anyway, Fox & Fluevog was really funky. It had these
sixteen-foot ceilings, stylin’ with all vintage and antique
furniture and old books, thousands of them, that we
bought for five cents a pop from the Opportunity
Rehabilitation Workshop. The interior design was loosely
based on the library scene in the 1938 movie Pygmalion.
They tell me now that I
seemed so arrogant back
then, but it was because
I was insecure.
49
Director Robert Altman buys a
knee-high boot while filming the movie
McCabe & Mrs. Miller in Vancouver.
In August, after weeks of unrest, the
Gastown riot breaks out right outside
Fox & Fluevog.
John and Kecia travel to Mexico, where
they discover a warehouse full of
vintage children’s shoes. They come
back and sell them with the motto
Brand-New 50-year-old Shoes.
Not long after Fox & Fluevog opens,
international supermodel Kecia Nyman
walks into the store and walks out
with John’s heart. Three months
later, they’re married, and John is
hobnobbing with the jet set.
50
And I used to come to work dressed up in this three-
piece tweed suit with knickers and buckled shoes.
I was, like, hot stuff, right? But I was never a flake.
I was honest, I was hard-working and I was reliable.
Peter needed that kind of stability.
When I started doing this, I knew what people were
thinking and I knew how to tickle them. I wasn’t all
that smart in school, but I had more street smarts
than most people. Emotional intelligence or whatever
you call it. And I always understood women. I had
a strong sense of my feminine side. And strangely,
I ended up in this business where I make women
feel happy. Makes sense, right?
Our shoes were expensive—we’d sell knee-high
lace-up patent leather boots in five colours for men.
It was my ego that got
me. It took me out and
she took me out.
We started selling platforms. I had people flying
up from LA to buy my shoes. I was the man, selling
$270