Today I have a repair story from yesterday.
I live in Ossining, New York about an hour north of New York City. Since moving here I have looked for a shoe repair shop on Google maps, and I’ve seen a few dots representing local businesses, but I just made the assumption that none of them would be good enough to handle the pair of leather sandals I wanted to have repaired.
Recently, my mother has been looking for shoe repair shops when she visits me, and she visited one of the shops that I had dismissed without visiting. She came back with a glowing review, so I went to drop off my sandals yesterday. When I walked in, I felt transported into a world of making and fixing, an older world as evidenced by artifacts like a manual cash register, an altar to the Virgin Mary, wood paneling in every direction, and beautiful metal machines used for fixing shoes.
The couple that run the store (Tony’s, if you live in Ossining or nearby) originally came from Naples, Italy, almost 60 years ago. The husband, let’s call him Tony, or better, Antonio, learned how to make and repair shoes in Italy, but when he arrived here he focused solely on repair. Antonio’s wife runs the counter, and thankfully there’s no actual back of the shop because it’s an open air repair studio with all of the machines on full display. This couple have been running this business for a long time, they must be in their 80s (again, assuming). The pleasant surprise of seeing two presumed octogenarians working their business was worth the trip. The idea that one (I) could establish a local business that could last for decades and keep you (me) happily busy into my 80’s is extremely appealing to me.
As I consulted with the wife about my sandals, and as she consulted with her husband, my senses were paying attention. Taking in the smell of chemicals, the rows of paper bags holding shoes waiting to be fixed, my yellow paper ticket showing proof of payment, the sounds of the machines, the sight of a highly skilled and experienced person leaned over a machine… all of this made me instantly happy and sad. Happy because I had finally found the shop I was looking for, and what a shop it was. Sad because I had waited so long to find it, and sad because I instantly wondered if they have a succession plan or if this shop will close when they can no longer support it. A fleeting fantasy popped into my head: I could be their succession plan. I could give up all my work and apprentice with this master shoe repairman, eventually take over the business and set up an espresso bar inside for people to come and just enjoy the sight of good, physical work being done. They could enjoy the fumes and the sight of good old machines- all while improving my Italian.
I can say with no data (my favorite statements), just from my own limited, mechanical observations, that the Italians really know how to make a damn fine piece of machinery. Or I should say they used to… I don’t know about modern machinery, but I consistently see aged (les say 50+ years old) Italian machines across industries (shoes, textiles) in modern settings performing their tasks efficiently while looking good.
A couple of thoughts related to my shoe repair visit:
Why is it so hard for me to get out the door, take the pair of shoes and find the repair shop? Is it just me? I’m so used to things coming easily, literally through the mail or in big box stores, that it feels like an overwhelming challenge to find and test out a local store or shop that is out-of-the-way and may or may not fulfill whatever need you have. I find this embarrassing. For example, I have an amazing winter coat whose main zipper broke 3 years ago, and I have yet to have it repaired because I don’t want the hassle of mailing it somewhere to be repaired, but I also haven’t found repair shop in my town to take it to, so it just sits in a box in my attic unworn. I am so out of practice, most of us are, of taking care of quality items that need ongoing maintenance. I’m happy to do small embroidery and patchwork myself, but anything that I can’t do quickly becomes overwhelming and goes in a box destined for the attic.
This reminds me of something Rebecca Harrison from Old Flame Mending said recently; she explained that often when a new customer brings in one item to be repaired and sees the quality of that repair, they keep bringing in new things to be repaired every time they pick up something that’s ready and done. They make multiple visits until they’ve finally exhausted all of their loved items that needed fixing. Once we establish a relationship with a skilled repair person, it opens a world of possibilities for the things that you own and love, but may have neglected for a while. I think part of what we have to get good at is re-making these relationships with (ideally) local repair businesses, effectively lowering our barriers to having our things repaired. Obvious…. yes, I know.
Cynthia
Molte Volte
Untangling Circularity
I lived in China for a year and it was so easy to get everything and anything repaired. You could get your smashed phone screens repaired on the side of the road by a guy with a little cardboard box set up as his repair shop. There was also a shoe repair guy with a little street cart — took me a few tries to pick up my repaired shoes because I kept arriving back to his corner after he’d packed up for the day. Now back in Australia I have the same friction as you. My mum will often visit and then take my worn goods home with her to another city to get them repaired there because she knows I won’t get around to it. Thank god for mums and for all the repair shops that still exist!
Tony’s is great! Old school quality with ambiance. Your post took me there. I think the need for “handmade” and manual repair grows in proportion to the environment of uncertainty that surrounds us. There’s something reassuring about it. Thanks Cynthia! I think you’ll make a fine shoe repair expert and barista!