A Cobbler's Joy
Of Consumers and Caretakers
I recently learned that a friend of mine had been a cobbler some thirty years and three careers ago. His face lit up when he mentioned it, betraying a flash-flood of fond memories and feelings of satisfaction. With a sudden jolt of enthusiasm he spoke of people bringing in boots that were just tattered and falling apart and restoring them to like-new condition with new soles, new stitching if needed, cleaning and waxing, etc. Decades later, that sense of amazement at how utterly beat-to-shit boots could be brought back to life has remained with him.
He remarked woefully that there aren’t many cobblers around anymore. Indeed, there isn’t as much need for cobblers in the throwaway society America has become; relatively few Americans today buy quality boots made to be repaired. Quality leather work boots are expensive, after all: on the lower end of the spectrum one can expect to spend close to $200, on the higher $600 or more. What is more, quality leather shoes require care and attention: they need brushing and cleaning, waxing (if worn in wet weather), new soles when worn through, new stitching at times, etc. It’s much cheaper up front to buy shitty synthetic materials that are glued together and demand little if any upkeep. Worn daily, they’re worn through in six months and in the trash they go.
A great deal is lost in the consumption of throwaway shoes. There are many great qualities of leather footwear, but perhaps the most significant thing lost in throwaway culture is care. Nice things require care, and the more we care for and attend to things the more we end up caring about those things as a result (the same goes for people, but that’s a topic for another essay). When a man buys an old car he really likes and works on it, the work he puts into the car endears it to him more. Not only is it a car he likes, but it’s a car that he’s put parts and time and work into. It’s an investment that goes beyond the dollar, that goes beyond mere ownership and into the realm of care and responsibility. It’s easy to hate a car that is always in the shop costing money, especially if it also requires a monthly payment…but a guy who bought a car years ago and has worked on it inside and out? Nobody—and I mean nobody—hates to sell a car more than that guy. The same goes for a good pair of boots: they demand he sit down and care for them, even if it’s just a quick brushing…and nobody appreciates boots more than the person who takes care of them.
As time goes on, a man’s appreciation for the car and the boots he’s chosen and cared for deepens. The once tough leather has slowly given way and come to embrace his feet, molded to them perfectly; he knows that so long as he cares for them, they will in turn care for him in a sense that no new boot is ready to do out of the box. He learns the ins-and-outs of his vehicle as he works on it and makes various adjustments and upgrades that suit him. As time goes on and work is put in, boots and cars grow into us as we grow into them; as we take care of them, they continue to take care of us.
The cobbler’s joy, however, is not related to the boots having molded to his feet. Ultimately the cobbler’s joy is about caring for things: attending to something worthwhile and breathing new life into it. The cobbler does not get to wear the shoes he repairs and restores—his joy belongs to the act of restoring, pro-longing, and bringing the old boots out at their best. And through the cobbler the boots are brought out at their best: no new boots, no matter how sharp or expensive, will cradle their owner’s feet the way the worn-in midsoles of familiar boots do, nor will they display the character of quality boots both well lived-in and cared for. Such boots have a character and comfort that only come from care; so too with the cobbler’s joy.
And so we might learn from the cobbler the joy inherent to caring for things. Indeed, we might thus cultivate a preference for the things worth caring for, and begin to seek out craftsmen rather than clearance racks. We might even become a society of caretakers rather than consumers—and that is the sort of thing that can change the fate of a nation.
Excellent post. There is nobility in toil and wear and care. How simple it is and yet how easy it is to stiff arm for other pursuits that don't mean half as much.