Chapter 20 Italia In and My First Trip to Sassuolo
While DOROMA was slowly finding its first customers, a second door opened in my life at almost the same time. It was a door that led neither to coffee nor to espresso machines, but to ceramic tiles and Italian design. After spending so many years in the world of coffee, I had been convinced that my future would always remain connected to that industry. I knew the products. I knew the technology. I knew the customers. It was a world in which I felt completely at home. And yet, without realizing it at the time, I was beginning an entirely different journey. As so often happened in my life, it did not begin with a grand plan. It began with a family conversation. My cousin Leonardo stayed with us for a while. He was an experienced tile setter who knew every detail of his trade. Our entire family, including my brothers and me, helped him start his own business in Liège.
At first, he worked as a tile setter. He knew how to lay tiles. He knew the materials. And he understood what customers expected from a craftsman. But Leonardo had an entrepreneurial spirit. He did not want to limit himself to laying tiles. He began looking further ahead, established contacts with Italian manufacturers, and eventually became an importer of Italian ceramic tiles. At that time, this world was still almost completely unknown to me. My experience was in coffee. In machines. In sales. I still knew very little about ceramic tiles. Leonardo spoke to me more and more often about his business and the exclusive Italian products he imported. His company was based in Liège and primarily served French-speaking customers. But he also saw opportunities in Limburg and throughout the rest of Flanders.
One day he asked me, “Why don’t you open a shop in Limburg where you can offer my exclusive products to the Flemish public?” That question stayed with me. I did not yet know enough about the world of tiles. But I knew Flanders. I spoke Dutch. I knew the mentality of the people. And I had experience in sales and prospecting. Perhaps I could use what I had learned in the coffee business in this new field. The product was completely different. But the customers’ desire for quality and good guidance remained the same. Little by little, the idea took shape. In 1977, ITALIA IN was born. Beneath the name ITALIA IN also appeared the word BELGIUM. That addition was a deliberate choice. The purpose of my company went beyond simply selling ceramic tiles. ITALIA IN - BELGIUM was meant to express what I wanted to accomplish: bringing Italian design to Belgium.
Ceramic tiles formed an important part of the offering. But I did not want to stop there. I also offered modern Italian bathroom furniture. Products that combined beauty, practicality, and Italian craftsmanship. ITALIA IN thus became a company through which I wanted to introduce the Flemish public to different products of Italian design. Products that, at that time, were not yet widely available in Belgium. That is how I took my first real steps into the world of ceramics and interior design. Meanwhile, DOROMA continued to exist. For several years, I combined the two businesses. Coffee and Italian design. Two completely different product worlds. Two different kinds of customers. And, for me, two ways to rebuild an income for my family after the uncertainty caused by FAEMA. My collaboration with Leonardo did not last long. We realized that our ideas about the company’s future development did not entirely coincide. Leonardo’s strength lay in his experience as a craftsman and in the products and working methods he knew well.
I was looking more and more toward new developments. I saw tastes changing. I noticed that customers were becoming interested in new colors, modern designs, and different ways of furnishing their homes. I wanted to follow those changes. More than that: I wanted to try to stay ahead of them. That did not mean one of our visions was better than the other. We simply looked at the future differently. I retained great respect for Leonardo’s experience. It was thanks to him that I had found the door to this new world. But I understood that I had to choose my own direction. Beginning in 1978, I therefore continued developing ITALIA IN entirely on my own and independently of Leonardo. I began establishing contacts with other Belgian importers and wholesalers. That gave me access to a wider selection and enabled me to offer my customers more choices. At the same time, I cautiously began importing products directly from Italy myself.
When I decided to continue developing ITALIA IN independently, catalogs and samples were not enough for me. I wanted to know where the products came from. I wanted to see the factories. Meet the people. And understand how ceramic tiles were actually made. That is how I made my first journey to Sassuolo. There are places one visits. And then there are other places where, from the very first moment, one feels at home. That is exactly how I felt in Sassuolo. Until then, I had mainly known Italy through my childhood memories. Loreto Aprutino. My grandparents. The summers spent with my family, filled with simplicity, affection, and warmth. But northern Italy was an entirely different world. As I entered the Modena and Sassuolo region, I saw tall factory chimneys everywhere. Trucks were constantly coming and going. Long freight trains waited on the tracks.
In and around the warehouses, enormous stocks of ceramic tiles stood ready to leave for every corner of Europe. I immediately understood that I had arrived in the beating heart of the ceramic industry. The first thing that struck me was the energy. Everyone seemed to know exactly what had to be done. The machines ran without stopping. Forklifts moved constantly through the immense warehouses. Conversations were brief and focused. Decisions were made without endless meetings. There was an atmosphere of confidence, but also of discipline. For someone like me, coming from the world of coffee, it was especially fascinating. During my first factory visit, I was given a hard hat. I put on a dust-protection coat and followed the director along the production lines. I heard the deep rumble of the gigantic presses. I felt the heat escaping from the enormous kilns. And I watched clay, water, and minerals transform, step by step, into a finished ceramic product.
It looked almost like magic. But it was not magic. It was knowledge. Craftsmanship. Experience. And passion. I kept asking questions. Why were those particular raw materials used? Why were such high firing temperatures necessary? Why did one tile receive a matte surface and another a glossy finish? How did firing affect strength? And how did they ensure that thousands of tiles kept the same dimensions and colors? The engineers smiled. Perhaps they thought I was a far too curious Belgian. But at the same time, I sensed that they appreciated my interest. I was not asking those questions to test their knowledge. I asked because I genuinely wanted to understand what I would be offering my customers. At noon, we ate together. Not a quick meal behind a desk. Instead, we sat around a single table, where directors, sales representatives, technicians, and factory workers sat side by side.
We laughed. We talked. About ceramics. Soccer. Politics. Family. That touched me too. Despite the size of the factories and the speed of the work, human relationships remained important. Perhaps that is why I felt at home so quickly. Once again I heard the language in which I had grown up. I ate dishes that reminded me of my mother’s cooking. I recognized the familiar gestures. The lively conversations. The pride with which people spoke about their work. In those moments, I understood once again that, even after so many years in Belgium, a part of my heart had remained deeply Italian.
But that was not the only cause of what went wrong. My own attention had shifted too. I had invested far more time and money in ITALIA IN. I was no longer present enough for the customers who had helped DOROMA grow. I must admit that honestly. Just as DOROMA had once grown one customer at a time, it now lost its strength one customer at a time. By the time I fully understood what was happening, much had already been lost. DOROMA slowly faded away. That hurt me. To me, DOROMA had never been just a business name. Within that name lived Dorina, our family name Rossi, and Marco. The brand carried our family, our dreams, and an important part of my life. I had built it from nothing. I had personally visited every customer. I had experienced every first order as a victory. And now I watched something that had begun with so much hope disappear.
It would be easy to place all the blame on someone else. But I do not want to do that. In the end, DOROMA was my company. I had made the decision to devote more and more time and resources to ITALIA IN. I had entrusted DOROMA’s daily management to someone else. I had not exercised enough oversight. And I had realized too late how closely the company was tied to my personal presence. The final responsibility therefore remained mine. Not because my trust had not been betrayed. It had. But because an entrepreneur remains responsible for what he has built, even when he delegates certain tasks. It was not an easy truth. But it was mine. I learned from it that trust is indispensable. Without it, people cannot build anything together. But trust alone is not enough. A company that developed around personal contact cannot lose that contact without customers feeling the difference.
And anyone who divides his attention among several activities must keep checking that none of them is slowly slipping from his grasp. Perhaps that, too, is part of entrepreneurship. It is not only about taking pride in what went well. It is also about having the courage to accept responsibility for what was lost. When I think back to that first journey to Sassuolo, I therefore see more than factories, machines, and endless rows of ceramic tiles. I see a new horizon. But I also see what I was beginning to leave behind. One chapter of my professional life was slowly closing, while another was opening wider and wider before me. In Sassuolo, I discovered a world in which my Italian roots and my Belgian experience could complement each other. In Italy, I found the products, the craftsmanship, and the passion. In Belgium, I knew the market and the people to whom I could introduce those products.
At that moment, I could not possibly know where that combination would lead me. Yet during that first return journey to Belgium, I felt one thing very clearly. In Sassuolo, I had not merely discovered new products. I had found a destination that would give direction to my life for many years.