I received a little parcel in the post at the weekend, and discovered that Chloe had painted my perfect shoes!
If you’d like to see more of Chloe’s paintings, you can look at them on Flickr, or you can buy them in her Etsy shop.
This one’s on a 20cm square box canvas, and I love the way that the painting carries on all the way round the edges.
(And that it’s of a big pink shoe, obviously!)
Still waiting for the photos to be processed before I can show you the wedding dress…
You know that strange phenomenon where as soon as you start to become obsessed by something, you suddenly see it everywhere?
I was flipping through the February edition of Elle UK, and spotted these lovelies:
I wonder what colour those patent Church’s brogues are in Real Life? Once again they’re Oxfords though, so I wouldn’t be able to wear them even if I did have £190 to spend on shoes. (The Tricker’s pair are Derbys – and they also make a lovely Derby boot.)
I am very tempted to take a wander down Jermyn Street the next time I go into London. Tricker’s and Church’s are both based there, and it would be lovely to have a look at these in person.
I still can’t blog about the piece that I’m working on at the moment – it’s a wedding dress, and it needs to be kept secret for another couple of weeks!
In the meantime I will start as I men to go on, and talk to you about shoes.
Since I received the Handmade Shoes for Men
Such is the rarity of interesting formal shoes for men that when I saw Vic Reeves on Shooting Stars the other evening, I may have squealed out loud, and pointed at the television.
This was the best screen shot I was able to capture, but look at those lovely shoes!
The squealing was mostly because I thought they were pink, but on closer inspection I think they’re a tan/stone combination.
I’ve enjoyed the trend for women’s brogues over the past couple of years, but all the nicest ones seem to have towering heels that I just can’t wear.
My current favourites are from Top Shop – a pretty black and pink pair.
The pink’s a bit pale for my liking, but I’m sure a spot of bright pink shoe polish would soon sort that out!
Unfortunately, I already know that I won’t be buying a pair of these. The shape of my feet means that Oxford shoes don’t fit properly, and I really need to wear a Derby shoe instead.
A pair of black patent and fuschia pink suede wingtip brogue derby shoes would be my absolute ideal.
The chances of me ever being able to buy a pair of those is fairly slim, which is why I’m once again becoming obsessed with the idea of learning to make my own shoes!
Paul gave this book to me for Christmas. It is simultaneously both the best and the worst book that I have ever owned!
Handmade Shoes for Men
The brilliant part is that I can do this! Secrets have been revealed! I can learn how to make shoes!
The terrible part is that all of the equipment is very specialised, and sometimes expensive, and I still can’t afford to go on any of the courses that teach shoemaking properly.
But… I’ve learned everything I know about dressmaking and corsetry from a healthy combination of reading books and making things up as I go along. Perhaps it would be possible to learn at least the basics of shoemaking the same way?
I have plans for the lasts I bought from Ebay, and I’m still working on ideas for some developments to the soft slippers that can be made without lasts.
I only wish I’d been brave enough to study Fashion when I left school. I could have had more than ten years’ experience as a shoemaker by now, and be creating beautiful work like this:
Petrol blue wingtip ankle boots by Pakerson, at Forzieri.
(I’d make mine in fuchsia pink, of course…)
I hope this doesn’t spoil a surprise for anybody whose gift hasn’t arrived in the post yet, but this is why I’ve been a little bit busy and stressed out over the past few weeks.
There’s only one item missing from the photo call, and that’s a hat that I knitted for Paul, mostly in the middle of the night. I ended up resorting to knitting it inside a carrier bag, when he arrived home earlier than I’d expected from his work leaving do! (Thankfully he was slightly drunk and far too tired to wonder what on earth I was doing.)
Most of these are gifts that I gave, but a few were things that I made to be given as gifts by other people.
Oh, and I did finish Bryan’s second sock, but I forgot to take a picture of the pair before I wrapped them up!
Look what I’ve just bought on Ebay! Aren’t they beautiful?
Even better, they’re roughly my size, so as soon as they arrive I can start to make a pair of shoes!
I’ve been reading Mary Wales Loomis‘ book, and doing a bit more online research. I’ve now found a company who make and sell lasts, and a place to buy shoe soles by the pair, rather than in enormous quantities.
Whilst I can’t afford to go on any of the shoemaking courses currently available in the UK, there’s plenty I can do at home, with the materials I have already.
If anybody else is interested in making their own shoes, these are the UK courses that I’m currently aware of:
If you know about any others, please let me know!
It has to be said that I used to do an awful lot of thinking about shoes – not to mention an awful lot of buying!
I had a hip operation a few years ago, and ever since I’ve had to be a bit more sensible about these things. I wear orthotics inside all my shoes, and I am now the proud (if rather financially-challenged) owner of four pairs of MBTs. They may be expensive, but they are absolutely the best shoes that I’ve ever bought.
However, MBTs are only available in a limited range of styles, and most of them are, let’s face it, not what I would be looking for in terms of a funky or indeed a fashionable shoe.
Being the sort of person who follows a train of thought to its logical if ridiculous conclusion, I’ve spent a while this year investigating the possibilities of designing and making my own shoes.
I’ve got as far as making a few pairs of funky slippers (guess what everyone’s getting for Christmas?!), but sadly not a great deal further.
The sticking point is turning out to be the soles.
The uppers can be made from pretty much anything that can be wrapped around your foot. The soles, on the other hand… they need to cushion your entire skeleton, protect you from the cold and wet, preferably be light and flexible… and this is something which is apparently quite difficult to accomplish without access to a convenient shoe factory.
I’ve started to do a little bit of research into how shoes were made in pre-industrial societies, and the answer mostly seems to be, “using skills and tools which nobody has access to any more”. I’m not about to take up wood carving in order to develop a pair of clogs, and I don’t fancy weaving myself a new pair of papyrus sandals every time it rains. In terms of something hard-wearing, I think the Romans had the right idea with their hobnailed soles – the entire underside of the shoe was covered in short metal nails, hammered directly into thick leather.
I’m not certain I want to be clip-clopping about on hobnailed sandals though, so I’m currently investigating cork and rubber soling. Because I’m doing this on a very small scale, I was thinking of buying some rubber floor tiles to go with the cork ones that I have already.
At the moment I have no idea how I’m going to fix these layers to the bottom of my shoes, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out…
Yesterday, Mamfa popped by specifically to leave a comment that she’d seen a pair of Those Shoes in a size 5, in a shop in Leeds.
Mamfa doesn’t know me, she saw my post via the friends list of a community that we both visit. But she had some useful information, and took the time to leave a comment and pass it on. Wasn’t that kind?
Further investigation reveals that the shoes are now back on the Schuh website, and that my local branch apparently has a couple of pairs in stock.
Hopefully Liz and I will have our wedding shoes after all. 🙂
While I’m on the subject of awesome shoes (when am I not?), you could do worse than to check out Em & Sprout’s Etsy store.
Are they not the most adorable shoes you’ve ever seen? So cute!
Earlier this year, Paul and I got engaged. Presumably this means that at some point in the future there will be a wedding. So, of course, I did what any ridiculously addicted freshly engaged woman would do – I went shoe shopping.
I saw a pair of shoes, by Irregular Choice. I saw them on the Schuh website, and I went into my local branch to try them on. Two weeks later, after I’d been paid, I went back to buy the shoes. And they’d gone. No longer for sale in the shop, no longer online.
(I may have said a rude word. A nice man is trying to mail order a pair for me. He’ll let me know.)
This evening I was browsing on Amazon, when I remembered that they sell shoes too! I had a little look, and I found what I thought were the shoes I was coveting. Then I looked a little closer, and realised that whilst they looked a bit like my shoes, they weren’t my shoes at all.
(Click for larger)
The shoes at the top are the ones that I’m coveting. (I couldn’t find pictures of the cream and gold, so I’m showing you the red in both styles, for a more accurate comparison.)
See how the toes are extremely pointy, and the strap is quite low down?
See how the heels are higher, and more shapely, and self-covered?
See how the suede is different?
These are, quite emphatically, not the same shoes.
Yet they’re made by the same company, at the same price, and sold under the same name. How peculiar.
I’m sure that plenty of people will be looking at the picture and wondering what on earth I’m fussing about. Yes, the shoes are very similar. But to me (and I realise this is merely a matter of opinion), the top shoes look glamorous and elegant and sumptuous and lovely. The others look somehow mediocre and cheap.
If I hadn’t seen the top shoes first, would I be coveting the others? It’s impossible to say. But I know that if I can get a pair of the cream and gold ones by mail order, if they’re the same style as the bottom pair, I’m sending them back.
So, I’ve made a few pairs of slippers now, and they seemed to go quite well. I thought I would attempt the next stage in the experiment towards being able to make my own shoes.
In the left hand photo, the slippers have completely finished uppers. At this point I would normally attach a felt sole, and that would be it! I decided to try a cork sole (made from an old floor tile!), so you can see it laid on top of the slipper.
I tried to sew the cork directly to the upper, which did work, but it left me with several rather painful holes in my fingers from pushing the needle through the cork! Eventually I reasoned that if I could sew through cork by hand, surely my sewing machine would make a better job of it. I sewed the cork sole to a piece of drill, and used heavy thread to turn over the edges.
This gave me a strong sole which could then be sewn by hand directly on to the upper. I removed the plain cork sole, and made them both this way.
The soles are now black, having been covered with a coating of liquid latex. This makes them non-slip, and also fairly waterproof. Several more coats will be needed if they’re going to be suitable for walking around outside – and of course the uppers aren’t waterproof at all, being brocade!
There turned out to be quite a few problems with this pair, although now I’ve identified the difficulties I should hopefully be able to avoid them next time:
Whilst it’s frustrating to have spent time making an uncomfortable pair of slippers which don’t even fit, I’ve definitely learnt enough from this process to be looking forward to making the next pair!
