Kyknon Avenue 32. Nikos Katsanos decided to open his shop here. And it’s not unfair. The majestic lake of Kastoria stretches in front of him, and the shop windows are bathed in the sun. “Show up. Customers won’t come in,” he tells us in a greeting. The Romanian couple who opens the door denies him. In fluent English, they ask for a black fur coat for their daughter. shorten – but in the end they leave with nothing. The experienced furrier looks at us with justified regret. Even the tourists, whom he expected as minimal consolation, could not help the year, which everyone in Kastoria refers to in one word: “disaster”.

At the beginning of 2022, all omens pointed to a very good year for the furriers, which would compensate them for the losses caused by the coronavirus. “We were ready for new collections, plucked up courage. Buyers from Russia asked for a new product,” he describes. However, the war that broke out in Ukraine turned everything upside down. The city of Western Macedonia has become a “collateral” victim of the sanctions policy imposed by the European Union against Russia. Fur was included among the luxury items that were banned from being exported into the country, with a ceiling of 300 euros for both retail and wholesale. The fur industry of Kastoria suffered the most, as it sold 95% of its products directly or indirectly to Russia. “They destroyed an entire industry with a single directive,” says Mr. Katsanos. The imprint of this destruction is felt already at the entrance to the city, where most of the enterprises or fur showcases are either closed or not functioning.

The trader is no exception. Under normal circumstances, at such a time, Nikos Katsanos would have been feverishly preparing for the winter gathering. Instead, after the war, he “froze” all his activities: the industry was closed, the workers were suspended from work, and he himself stood still. If this continues for another year, he fears that the profession in Kastoria will disappear. As he imagines the third generation of furriers in his family, he cannot and does not want to imagine such a thing.

In fur laboratories

The gray-haired man, like most of his colleagues, was born and raised in the fur workshops that existed in every lane of the city. There they learned the art from their parents and grandparents. This feeling that fur is already in their DNA sets them apart on a global level. “Art cannot be learned easily, it can only be learned next to a good master. Castor artisans are among the most sought after in the world. We know very well how to work,” he emphasizes.

“This year, 1,800 people left to work on the islands for the season. [από τους 4.000] masters. This has never happened before,” Akis Tsukas, president of the Association of Furriers in Kastoria, says of the unprecedented crisis. Mr. Tsukas shows us what it means by visiting his own workshop. Of the 52 workers hired by the company, only five remained. “We try to keep good hands here,” he tells me, explaining that a good craftsman needs at least four months of training before he starts working properly.

In a craft where smell rises between glue and leather, the image of closed sewing machines and a few people is daunting. The only machine that beats rhythmically is the machine of Olga Semou, who has been working at this job since she was 23 years old. “Back then it was a one-way street,” she tells me, her eyes fixed on the expensive pieces of fur she sews. He explains that the excellence of art lies in combining disparate skins into a uniform result that is flawless. This quality, which is achieved in Kastorian laboratories, has found a response in various regions of Russia.

“Here we don’t have a fur crisis like in the past. We have an export ban. We cannot work. This is unfair!”.

The current crisis is not the first to make it difficult for the fur in Kastoria. In 2014, the war in Crimea also dealt a heavy blow to the industry, leaving room for the creation of domestic production in Russia. But what is happening today is completely different. “Here we don’t have a fur crisis like in the past. We have an export ban. We cannot work. It’s not fair!” emphasizes Mr. Tsukas. He argues that there is no other alternative for the region. According to the chamber, which he cites, about 35% of the city’s workers are employed in furs. If the branch is dissolved, the city will become empty. In an attempt to change the climate, the association is hosting the 47th International Fur Fair in Kastoria after a two-year hiatus due to the coronavirus.Luxury stands with tall mirrors and huge posters were set up by 64 different exhibitors on an area of ​​13,000 sqm.The event is expected to receive many visitors from different countries, from Algeria and Armenia to Kazakhstan and Japan “This is a bold undertaking without Russians. This has never happened before. But we must also move forward.” , while at the previous exhibition there were at least 700 of them. “The war took us all,” she commented.

From Kyiv

The war certainly managed to hit Kastoria’s apparently smaller but existing market, the Ukrainian one. At the Gliaia family shop, the blonde tries on furs in front of a mirror and then poses for a mobile phone held by a friend. Valeria, 34, managed to travel from Kyiv to Kastoria at the height of the war to buy furs, which she would then promote and sell through her Instagram account. Dina Gliaglia explains to us that she is a regular customer. In good times, he would buy 200 furs. Now he can leave the store with 20 or even 50 pieces.

The exhibition, albeit temporarily, but revived the city of Kastoria, which seemed empty a few days ago. Nikos Katsanos, seeing who will come, fears that there will be merchants who want to take advantage of the situation. “I’m afraid that the Turks will come, buy our furs at cost, and then sell them to Russia without hindrance,” he says. However, he won’t give up so easily. Black-and-white photographs of his daughter stand out at his desk. “He is already speaking in tongues. He also knows Russian. This will be the fourth generation to take over.”