Good for the Sole: The Hidden Joys of Shoe Repair
Supporting a local cobbler feels even better than unboxing a new pair of shoes
By Iris Aguilar
I can’t sew, knit or crochet, and power tools make me anxious, but somehow taking care of and repurposing my things feels second nature. I go to a trusted tailor and a seamstress, whose shops I stumbled upon while walking in my neighborhood about 15 years ago. I also know an inventive handyman who can build, repair and upcycle almost anything. Yet, until recently, I had never had a pair of shoes repaired.
As part of figuring out my personal style, I've rehomed most of the barely-worn shoes I had accumulated over the years. I’m also trying to be more conscious about my purchases, so I’ve started to opt for second-hand shoes and bags. I’ve been truly delighted by the pieces I’ve found, but a few of them needed a bit of care or a few tweaks to feel right.
Going to the cobbler opens up a new compartment in your brain, one that sees the option repair and repurpose instead of “buy, sell, give away.”
As a good ol’ millennial, I turned to the internet to find a cobbler and I stumbled upon two Instagram accounts featuring impressive before and after pictures. These places were conveniently close, but something deterred me from going there. I live in Monterrey, México. My house sits on the limits between two cities with only a few streets separating me from one of the wealthiest municipalities in the country where these businesses are located. It’s a visually pleasant and well-manicured place, but it’s also deeply classist.
Scrolling through the feed of the self-proclaimed ateliers and “leather clinics,” I only saw repairs being made to products by Gucci, Miu Miu, Bottega, Chanel, Hermès, and similar luxury brands. The longer I scrolled, the more the gap between these items and my “anonymous” second-hand scores grew, making me hesitant to even request a quote. These businesses might actually work on non-luxury items, but I felt intimidated by their online presence and branding, and feared they would reject me as a patron or do a subpar job because my things were not worth that much.
A few months later, a friend shared an Instagram story documenting her trip to a leather repair shop downtown. She mentioned they did a great job and the prices were fair, and, as a plus, they had two resident cats. Of course I was sold. I told her that I had been looking for a cobbler, and she invited me to tag along the following week in case I didn’t want to go by myself.
Exterior of the shoe repair store with hand painted signs that read: Reparación de Calzado (Footwear Repair); Suelas Corridas (full resole); 1/2 suelas (half resole); Tacones (heels); Plantillas (insoles / inserts); Chamarras de Piel (leather jackets); Maletas de Viaje (luggage/suitcases); Bolsas de Mano (handbags); Mochilas (backpacks); Cintos (Belts); Y mas (and more)
My decision to shop with friends (instead of alone) is nuanced to say the least. This charming shop is located in a hub for many electric, leather, plumbing, kitchen and car repair shops and spare parts suppliers. But, in stark contrast to the luxury-focused places I was too hesitant to contact, it neighbors a strip club and a bar that were involved in some shootings during the city’s most violent days. Even though it’s been almost 10 years, some of us — especially women — feel apprehensive about venturing there. I must say that these streets are crowded and lively, at least during the day, which makes me feel safer.
To be honest, I would have never found this repair shop on my own. They don’t have an online presence and, strangely, the shop’s name is nowhere to be found — to this day I still don’t know it — so locally we just call it “Reparación de Calzado” (Footwear Repair) or “Renovadora de Calzado” (Footwear Restorer). Their services and products are hand-painted on the shop’s facade, in a style usually reserved for small local businesses in areas that have resisted gentrification.
A photo of the hand painted sign displaying the services and products the cobbler offers. The text reads: “SERVICES We paint and repair… leather jackets, luggage, handbags, backpacks, belts . . . and more . . . ”
The first time I went to Reparación de Calzado with two friends, we were greeted on the sidewalk by Monis, one of the shop cats. Two of the owner’s grandchildren were painting on a piece of cardboard with leather dye. I perused the place while my friends explained what they wanted done with their bags and shoes. When it was my turn to talk to the owner, we discussed what could be realistically achieved with my pieces. Before leaving, my friends and I hung out for a few minutes playing with the cats and talking with the kids, who gifted us with the paintings they were working on. We left in a great mood.
Monis, one of the resident shop cats.
A view from inside the shop. The sign (partially cut-off in this photo) says “Do not disturb the cats, they are the bosses and are easily irritated. Sincerely: Their servants. Thank you.”
When we came back to pick up our things one week later, the cobbler told us that the son-in-law who helps him in the shop was out of town for New Year’s Eve so he hadn’t been able to finish our jobs. That would have been a deal breaker for me in the past, when my expectations were conditioned by the “convenience economy” modeled by corporations like Amazon.
After two years of questioning my consumption habits, I was okay with waiting. My friends sew and one of them is a maker, so they weren’t annoyed either. After all, the items we brought had been sitting at home for months or even years. What stood out to me is that although we’re into slow fashion, we’ve become so accustomed to fast service that we blindly assumed that nearly 10 items we brought to the shop during the holidays would be ready in what amounted to only a few business days.
The following week we went back and only some things were finished, so we finally realized it was better to ask for a number so we could just call beforehand. Making a phone call feels almost counterintuitive after almost exclusively communicating with businesses online, but it’s such a simple thing that can save time and open us up to a myriad of small businesses that exist offline.
It took some effort to find a time slot to pick up our things, but when they were finally ready, we were delighted. One of my friends said she felt like she was about to film a shopping haul, and was particularly happy with how her pair of platforms turned out. Their original gold color had been dulled by scuff marks and the inner lining was peeling. The shoes were revived with a new lining and the gold replaced by a pink polish reminiscent of sweets and macarons.
My second-hand boots from the 90s came back to life after getting the heel tips replaced, some of the scuffs sanded down and the leather conditioned. The creases are still there, so they don’t look like they came out of the box. This is not an issue for me now; those creases eventually appear in most well-loved shoes.
On the left is a before photo of Iris’ boyfriend’s boots. They are brown lace-up boots, faded at the toe box and the heel. On the right is an after photo of the same boots. They now have a distinctive sheen and have been painted black.
We’ve now become regulars to the shop. Every time we pick something up, we leave something else. I think that speaks to how we can start picturing new possibilities now that we know someone who has the skill to materialize our ideas. Going to the cobbler opens up a new compartment in your brain, one that sees the option to repair and repurpose instead of "buy, sell, giveaway."
You start thinking about all the things you discarded because you didn’t have the resources to repair them, or because your imagination was numbed by overconsumption. The broken strap on your suitcase was not the end of the world; someone could have made a new one. Those shoes or bags you bought from sheer overexposure to a color trend might have been re-dyed. The canvas from your beloved Converse sneakers could have been mended and the split soles glued back together.
This is my repair "haul." Top left: my boyfriend's messenger bag that had been collecting dust for nine years. Top right: the 90s ankle boots. Bottom left: the small bag that I had repainted. Bottom right: my boyfriend’s boots. This haul also includes the colorful painting gifted to us by the shop kids.
Opting to repair your items means getting comfortable with things not turning out as new. There’s always a limit to what can be achieved and asking a lot of questions will help you manage your expectations. It can be a great opportunity to appreciate other people’s work and reflect on why we are so obsessed with things remaining in pristine condition. That said, it’s also important to consider our societal biases and how we determine who can get away with wearing “well-loved” and beat down items without facing discrimination.
A photo of the inside of the shop. There are two tables, one in front of the other. The table behind is taller, lined with several pairs of black work boots and running shoes. The table at the front appears to be an old sewing machine, with a saddle sitting on top.
Many things keep me awake at night and one of them is the disconnect I perceive between some of us folks interested in sustainability and highly skilled people who are not online. Fortunately, at least skills like sewing and mending have become highly visible. I wonder if part of their success is that they lend themselves to beautiful imagery and we just love an aesthetic feed.
But what about those workshops where your electronics get repaired or torn open for spare parts? What about upholstery and leather repair shops and other spaces that are not traditionally beautiful and tend to be located away from the trendy or well-manicured neighborhoods? I think their work is crucial and fascinating and should be more prominent in the sustainability space.
Here are five reasons to repair what you already own instead of buying new:
It can improve the aesthetics and function of an item. Cobblers and leather workers can do more than simply repair broken items. They can also change-up your items (i.e. re-dye the piece or add a new strap). Also, consider taking your things for “routine maintenance” before they’re beyond repair.
It reduces waste. When you buy something new, do your due diligence and consider whether that material is repairable. I know new leather is problematic from an environmental standpoint (so is pleather), but we can mitigate further harm to the planet by keeping our items in good condition and out of the landfill.
It takes the pressure off of “saving” (i.e. “not wearing”) your best things: Maybe you splurged on something outside your comfort zone and you’re afraid it might get stained, scuffed or creased. Remember clothes and shoes are meant to be worn and can always be repaired to an extent. If you purchase a piece from an independent maker or sustainable brand, you can always ask the business if they provide some sort of repair service or “spare parts.”
It can save you money over time: This will be highly personal and depend on your financial situation and local prices. I recommend trying to calculate a “cost to repair” in a similar way that you might calculate a cost per wear. Estimate how many more times you’re likely to wear a beloved pair of shoes and divide the cost to repair them by the number of wears. This will help you resist the endless deals and sales that entice us to constantly buy new. Also, take into consideration that inflation and economic crisis will destabilize the price of many goods; be mindful of the current economic situation when analyzing the rates/costs from your local repair shop.
It's gratifying. When taking the repair/repurpose route there’s almost no instant gratification but there IS gratification. There is something uniquely pleasurable about seeing an item restored to good condition and realizing that it wasn’t garbage after all.
Here are four ways to support a local repair business:
If you like someone’s work, give them a review. I think the easiest way to support these businesses is taking the time to find them on Google maps or any platform where you can review them. This is especially important because some people give ridiculously bad reviews for the smallest things and strangest issues.
Share your experiences on social media. Unfortunately, social media and an internet presence matters. In my specific case, I’ve become more dependent on social media since working mostly remotely. Not every business owner can or wants to start an IG account, TikTok or YouTube channel, but many of us are fascinated by before-and-afters and watching skilled people work, so how about ditching thrift hauls for repair hauls and giving visibility to those spaces you trust? If you are skilled on social media, you can always offer to help shop owners from older generations.
Share your experiences IRL. Online or offline, word of mouth is key. Make caring for things and repairing a part of your conversations. I recently mentioned my little trips to the cobbler to a colleague and she was actually super excited because she had a pile of shoes collecting dust in her house.
Involve your friends and family. Not everyone is as committed to do the legwork, but most will be happy if you offer to take their things for repairs. Also, even if you don’t live somewhere you perceive as dangerous, you can still get together with friends and turn a mundane chore into an outing. For example, last time I went to the shop with my friends, we went out to dinner afterwards.
Plus, one tip for independent makers, menders, and repair businesses: If you have a business and welcome everyone, make it super obvious. Maybe the luxury spaces I was hesitant to contact would actually work on non-luxury items, I was just too afraid to ask. (I still plan to contact them to give them the opportunity once I build the courage).
Last Updated: June 9th, 2022
Editor: Phoebe Bates | Designer: Emma | Photographers: Iris Aguilar & Alejandra Jaime | Copywriter: Meg Chellew | Copy Editor: Kate Frankowicz
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