Order of the Contebile

No one knows the true origin story of the Moleskine or the extent of the hardcover black book’s influence on the history of the twentieth century avant-garde. A young Ernest Hemingway famously preferred the petite book, noting there was “no friend as loyal.” At 4-years old, Picasso uttered his first word “piz, piz”, short for pencil. He was handed a pencil and a Moleskine and in his lifetime, he created 50,000 pieces of art. Inspired on a stroll one starry night, Vincent Van Gogh reached for his Moleskine to sketch his magnum opus. Though the ancient practice survived the Glorious Revolution, the Spanish Flu and the first World War, it was lost in the mid-1900s when the last Moleskine manufacturer went out of business. As the world ushered in the second World War, economic crises and standardized educational systems, the interest in preserving the companion and tool of the nomadic litterateur subsided.

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Maria’s knuckles were white as she tightly gripped her mother’s hand. Through tears, she whispered, “I’ll love you always. Don’t forget that.” It was the way that her mom had greeted Maria when she was born. Maria now echoed the words to say goodbye. The death was expected, but Maria was unprepared. She had watched cancer ravage her mother’s body, withering her unparalleled energy and vigor.

Maria let her mind wander to the past few days they had shared together. Though delirious, her mother had chosen to spend her last moments alongside her stack of Moleskines, hugging the books at times--physically cherishing what they held. Nicolla had worked in an original manufacturing factory at age 14 , meticulously sewing bookbinders to support her family.

For nearly forty years, the world had been devoid of the Moleskine. Maria knew that her mother had spent twenty years carefully tracking the original artisans to re-introduce the practice.

“Maria, please promise me that you will bring the practice back. The world is so ugly right now,” she had pleaded. “We must have the tools to envision a better one”.

Nicolla often referred to the darkness that had been “enveloping the society”. As the cancer had grown, so too had her intensity--she would spend days in anguish about the loss of creativity. The growing inequality. The narrowed conceptions of the world.

“I promise Mama”, she had said, knowing that Nicolla would not find peace if she didn’t.

It took Maria four months before she was able to clear out her mother’s belongings. The funeral arrangements had kept her preoccupied and the grief had kept her in a fog. She began with the closet, carefully sorting clothes, jewelry and books. A few hours in, she moved a dusty old box and saw the familiar, hardcover black notebook filled with Nicolla’s inimitable penmanship. In the spine was an envelope containing $20,000 USD and a letter.

Dear Maria,

If you’re reading this, then I have died. Forgive me daughter for I have been dishonest with you. I have not spent the last twenty years searching for the artisan practice of Moleskine. I have been preserving it. It is time for you to know the truth--for you to bring it back to the world. In this notebook, you’ll find half of what you need. The sole surviving artisan of the Order of the Contebile is in Paris. These are my life savings. Tell Paolo (28 Rue de Saint-Peres) it is time. Change the world.

I’ll love you always. Don’t forget that.

Mama

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Two weeks later, Maria was at the doorstep of Paolo LeMundo. She peered through the tiny window noticing only the concrete facade, characteristic of homes built during the interwar period. A few minutes passed before an ancient, small man with green glasses opened the door. “Qui est?” “Maria Sebregot,” she answered. The man’s face pulled back into a look of astonishment and his movements became more frenzied. “C’est vrai? Elle est morte?”. Maria silently nodded, feeling the familiar sharp pain that traditionally accompanied the affirmation of her mother’s death. Paolo let out a long sigh and stepped aside.

“Come in, ma cherie. The story is a long one.”

Paolo's home was small but comfortable, but her breath was taken away by the moleskines that lined his walls: a veritable pantheon of history. Petite, black, hardcover spines sat on floor-to-ceiling shelves all around his living room. He smiled as he caught her gaping.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Magical”.

They sat face to face on his two, velvet, yellow armchairs.

How much do you know about your mother and moleskines?”

“I know she left me this letter. I’ve read everything”

Paolo took the letter, closely examining the scrawl with a warm, nostalgic grin that piqued the edges of his lips. He leaned back in his chair and began.

“Your mother and I met binding moleskines when we were fourteen. We worked together side-by-side for three years, before we were initiated into the Order of the Contebile, The Order of the Bookkeepers. Our ancestors developed the practice of the Moleskine and established the order to preserve it. The order bound them to carry it wherever they went to unleash creativity into the world. Thirty years ago, someone began to hunt our order. One by one, this group hunted down members, vowing to “protect the world” from creativity. They were the titans of productivity. Horsemen for an industrial age where thinking was anathema to doing. They sought to make the crooked path of the wandering artists straight. You had just been born, Maria, and your mother was concerned for our lives. So, we did what was sensible and prudent--we disbanded. We went into hiding and Nicolla promised she would arrive when it was time.”

Maria sat astonished. Emotions swirled turbulently inside of her, as she began to reflect on what she had heard. Paolo respected her silence, rising and making his way to the bookshelf to study a section of the notebooks more closely. He pulled one out and made his way back to his chair.

“Every member of the order was responsible for writing their story and in doing so, preserving their life in a Moleskine. The ritual dates back several centuries. This was your mother’s. It belongs to you”

Maria received the extended notebook, clutching it to her chest.

“She said she wanted me to ‘bring the practice back’. What does that mean?”

“Bring the world creativity, Maria. It is your duty”

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In 1997 Maria re-introduced the Moleskine to the world, inspiring a generation of builders. The little black notebook has remained a stalwart tool of creatives, providing companionship to artists, architects, entrepreneurs, thinkers and dreamers. In the twenty years since, we have charted the Human Genome, overturned the Defense of Marriage Act, created a vaccine to combat a global pandemic in less than a year and pushed the boundaries of art. Yet, more remains to be done.

Somewhere right now, the youngest generation of builders are drawing a world free of poverty, writing inspiring stories and preparing to break down barriers that have stood in a way of a prosperous society. They are writing math equations. They are designing spaceships. They are engineering an end to climate change.

Their Moleskines are our future. The future is Moleskine.