Generations: Dressing well instinctively

I hope everyone had a great Christmas. Mine, spent in Dorset with my extended family, had one sartorial highpoint – the instinctively stylish dressing of my grandparents.

On Christmas Day, they were the best-dressed people there (by my traditional and subjective values). And that includes me.

Before you splutter with surprise and indignation into your coffee, I had tried – but I wasn’t sure about the lime-green pocket square and my jeans really need taking in. Jackie and Pops (as my grandparents are known to the family), on the other hand, were well-brushed harmonious poise.

Pops wore green wide-wale corduroy trousers, matching green socks and rubber-soled Derbys with just a hint of red in their brown leather – perfect to offset the green of the corduroy. On top, a biscuit-coloured cardigan over a Tattersall shirt (with one of Tattersall stripes also being biscuit). The finishing touch was a navy Ascot with small geometric pattern, hidden away a little under the shirt and as casual as could be. In this way an Ascot is more like a scarf than a tie – it need not be plumped and perfect.

The colours worked together beautifully, all Autumn and deep forest colours. The patterns and textures equally, heavy trousers matched with thick-soled shoes and pattern density considered in the Ascot and shirt.

Except that considered is the wrong word, because this was done largely sub-consciously. The outfit was not put together with the obsessive attention that many interested in traditional menswear today use when deciding what to wear. It was done simply, by picking out items that had been worn together before and felt right to be worn together. That’s all.

Jackie wore brown slacks in a Glenurquhart check, paired with darker brown polka-dotted socks from Pringle and leather Oxfords. On top, a brown polo-neck sweater worn underneath a cream, checked cardigan. The checks on cardigan and trousers did not clash, their relative difference in density of pattern (and, indeed, density of weave) making sure they complimented each other.

Again, when I remarked how well the colours and patterns went together, Jackie was flattered but a little surprised. While some thought had been put into what would look good, there was no theorising or overt study involved.

It must be wonderful to have grown up in an age when everyone took these things as standard. Here’s hoping I dress with as much ease and grace in a few decades’ time.

How to save your shoes from salt

There’s probably a good chemical reason why vinegar and salt don’t like each other, but I don’t know what it is. I was probably too busy making ink pellets in the back row when that relationship was explained in Chemistry class.

The enmity is very useful, though. For when you’ve been out in the rain a lot (as happens frequently at this time of year) or been sweating rather profusely (as happens in the other half of the year), vinegar is the best way to tackle the salt stains that can result.

As the leather of your shoes absorbs water, salt gathers at the high-water mark – usually about half way up the vamp and an inch high around either side. If this is allowed to dry and not tackled quickly, it can leave a permanent ridge on the leather. Like scum left by a retreating tide.

You have to wait for your shoes to dry though. So wipe off any excess water when you get back home, stuff the shoes with newspaper, and keep them away from any artificial sources of heat. Then put your shoe trees in to stop them losing their shape.

When the shoes are completely dry, make up a mixture of 50:50 water and vinegar. You’ll need a couple of inches in a mug, and some cloth to apply it with. Most vinegars will do – malt vinegar is ideal but I used rice vinegar most recently and it worked fine.

Dip the cloth in the mixture and rub it over the salt stains. The leather will noticeably darken as it absorbs this new liquid, but don’t worry about that. Concentrate instead on the ridge of salt that stands away from the shoe like dirt. You want to keep rubbing the solution onto this ridge, and reapplying, until it dissolves and the leather is smooth.

When you’ve done this successfully on both pairs of shoes, wipe off any excess solution with a clean part of the cloth and leave them to dry. After a while the leather will dry and return to its normal colour. Now give the entire shoe a generous polish. A cream similar in tone to the leather will work particularly well, as it is likely to correct any colour differentiation caused by this process.

The shoes should be as good as new. The treatment can be used on old stains as well, but the salt is far harder to dissolve. You can apply polish or cream to remove the white colouring, but a ridge will remain.

Reader question: Wet shoes

Rob, London: I keep buying what I think are decent shoes (Barker brogues x2 and Loake Oxfords x1) with leather soles. I’ve found they soak up water when I wear them on a wet day. It is coming through the soles! Are my shoes not a good enough quality, or what?

Let me tell you a story, Rob. Back in the dark ages, shoes came in two exciting varieties: wood and skin. A man placed either a piece of wood or a piece of animal skin on the sole of his foot, and then bound it on with twine.

Both were hard-wearing, but in the end skin won out over wood. It could be just as tough if doubled or tripled up and, most importantly, it breathed. Because it was the living skin of a horse, cow or other readily available animal, it both protected the foot and let moisture escape.

Skin never looked back, and leather is still used today for all parts of high-quality shoes because of this breathability (as well as other convenient characteristics, such as flexibility and the ability to be treated and dyed).

So no leather-soled shoe is waterproof. It lets air out and it will let some water in. It shouldn’t soak your feet when you step in a puddle, but it will let in water if left in that puddle for too long. Or if you step through enough different puddles on the way to work.

To avoid this, some people wear rubber overshoes on top of their brogues. This is rather extreme. Most just try to avoid stepping in puddles. If their shoes do get wet, they look after them, stuffing them with paper when they get home and inserting shoe trees to stop them losing their shape.

There are various other strategies you can adopt to minimise wetness. One is to go for English shoes, with Goodyear welting, rather than Italian, which will likely have a Blake construction. A Goodyear welt produces a thicker sole with a visible rim around the foot; this keeps the upper away from the water and means less gets in.

But it sounds like you already buy English shoes. A second alternative is to go for double or triple-soled shoes. These literally have one or two more soles on them, making for a thicker bottom that keeps you even further away from the wet. But these can look clompy and aren’t really suited to business.

As a third alternative, you could replace your leather soles with rubber ones. You will lose the breathability of the sole, but no water will get through. Rubber soles can be rather ugly, but there are some very elegant types made that do not look very different from leather, at least at first glance.

This is probably your best option. Do check when you go to the cobbler’s though that your leather soles are not just wearing through. They thinner they are, the more seepage there will be. It might be best to try replacing them before resorting to rubber.

Density of pattern

Before you decide anything in the morning about what you’re going to wear, consider density of pattern.

Ok, maybe select your suit first. But then, before reaching for the shirt, look at the pattern of your suit and consider it. Is there a pattern? What is its density? How might that density harmonise with, clash with or simply stay a good distance away from other patterns in your outfit?

Ok (another backtrack) maybe you wouldn’t obsess quite like this. But you should think about how a suit, shirt and tie relate in terms of density of pattern before you consider anything else – colour, knot vs. collar size, blade width vs. lapel width.

Having patterns that are too similar next to each other is the biggest way men go wrong with their morning dressing.

It’s simple. If patterns are next to each other, make sure they are of different sizes. If you are going to wear a striped suit, make sure you don’t pick a striped shirt. Or if you do, make sure the stripes are at opposite ends of the size spectrum – a wide chalk striped suit, say, with a fine hairline striped shirt.

It would be safest to go for a plain tie at this stage, but if you insist on going for stripes again, make sure they are wide also, to differentiate them from the shirt – a club stripe say.

This still isn’t ideal, as the stripes of tie and suit will still be next to each other where the jacket closes. This could be ameliorated by trying to find a third, intermediate width for one item, or (better) by making sure one stripe is rather pale (probably the suit).

Right. Now, one way to differ patterns further is to swap stripes for spots. Pin stripes that are, for example, a half-inch apart, could work fine with spots that are the same distance apart. Obviously, the more different they are in size the safer.

Other patterns provide similar relief – a large paisley, for example, against a stripe (probably tie on shirt). Or checks. Ideally a checked shirt should be matched against a striped suit of different density, but the very fact they are different types of patterns provides the minimal difference.

The image illustrates this well. The checked shirt works against the striped suit because, though they are similar densities, they are different patterns themselves. The spotted tie is then clear on two fronts – because it is a different pattern itself and because it is a different density to its neighbours.

I’m sure the pocket handkerchief in wide blue paisley is just off-screen.

And that’s how to mix patterns.

The lawyer background

British lawyers have a penchant for a particular suit/shirt combination that allows them to sport brightly coloured ‘fun’ ties. It’s an object of derision but holds lessons for all of us.

A while ago I wrote about the Italian background: the tendency of Italian men to wear a plain blue shirt and dark blue tie as a neutral support to more outlandish suits or accessories. This neutral, conservative combination is an easy fallback for the stylish man. If you’re not sure what will go with a particular suit, just opt for blue and blue.

The English lawyer’s background is similar, but transposes the blue/blue from shirt and tie to shirt and suit. This is practical combination to support a certain type of tie, namely that of a pale, light colour.

This tie is often from Hermès. It often has small characters printed on it (hippopotami, say, or squirrels). But most important is the fact that it is a light yet pale colour.

This is not an easy shade of any colour to wear. A white shirt makes the lightness of the tie too stark. The contrast is too great and both can end up looking cheap. A blue shirt is much better able to support such lightness, being a more muted colour itself and so creating less contrast.

However, being a pale version of this light colour, it could easily fade into nothing if worn with a pale or mid-grey suit. So a navy suit works perfectly – it provides a solid base for the tie’s colour, and also harmonises with the shirt to produce a single background block. There is little contrast, but still a solidity in support.

Consider the tie on the far right of the picture. It would be washed out against a white shirt; so wear blue. It would be washed out against a pale suit; so wear a dark one. It also needs to minimise contrast everywhere, so wear a blue shirt and navy tie – similar tones that become pure background (exactly like the Italian shirt/tie combination).

If you are ever stuck for what suit and shirt to wear with a pale-coloured tie, this is your answer.

I won’t comment at anywhere near the same length on the images used on these ties. Suffice it to say that there is a correlation between lawyers generally being dull, introverted people, and a compulsion to display childish animals. I will also mention in passing that some accuse these lawyers of wearing their entire personality around their neck.

Be patient with the sales

Wow, those tan Church’s brogues are lovely, and they’re 50% off. That’s great value. Some of the best English shoes made, for £140.

No, stop it. Be strong.

I was looking at that Brooks Brothers holdall last year. An elegant combination of leather and canvas; smart calf on top and a lightweight body underneath. Reduced by 40% already as well.

No, it will get cheaper. Just hold on.

Some sales started this year in the first week of December. Church’s and Brooks Brothers were two, but there were many others, including Nicole Farhi.

Walk around Selfridge’s and almost every brand has a rail at 20% or 30% off. Ralph Lauren has told loyal customers that the private sale has been brought forward this year to December 17 and 18 “due to the timing of the public holidays”. Yeah right.

It all smacks of desperation.

For years, the January sales have been brought further and further forward. First it was December 27th; then a few days before Christmas (no one’s going to be buying presents at that stage, right?); now it’s mid-December and has essentially become the Christmas sale.

The most intense period of retail activity the whole year, and you have to reduce your prices to get punters in. It’s not a good sign, is it?

So by the time Christmas is over, shops will actually be on to their second round of reductions (70% in some places, 50% in others). And given the state of the economy there may well even be a third round of desperate cuts in January. Those Church’s brogues and Brooks Brothers holdall will be a lot cheaper.

Which is why you have to stay strong. Save your money now and you’ll get better value in January. Don’t accept anything that’s less than half off, and look out for individual offers like the two-day Ralph Lauren one above.

A few other points worth considering. Discount stores will be flooded with relatively recent pieces as stores have to clear out for Spring/Summer but have more stock lying around. So it’s worth paying more attention to these.

Also JM Weston only has one sale a year, which starts on December 27. Have a look in January – you won’t get another chance for a year. And Hermes always has an unannounced sales offsite, which only lasts about two days. Ask them in-store when and where it is and they’ll tell you; it just isn’t advertised anywhere.

Any other hot tips on sales (preferably in London) appreciated.

Christmas presents: Buy the luxury you can afford

Anyone out there trying to find a Christmas present for myself or gentlemen like me should bear two things in mind: buy the best you can afford, and buy pieces that last.

No matter how little you have to spend on someone’s Christmas present, you can afford luxury. It’s merely a question of scaling down the size or complexity of the item.

You probably can’t afford to buy someone a luxury tie, at least until the January sales – they often cost up to £100 after all. Equally, a top-end shirt is likely to be beyond most people – these also cost upwards of £100.

But then a shirt or similarly fitted item is worth avoiding. It is hard to get something that fits precisely, even if you know the gentleman’s neck size, for example. Better to go for accessories that are not size-specific.

And you can afford luxurious accessories if they’re small. The best socks money can buy are likely to be within your range, as are the best collarbones (also known as collar stays or collar stiffeners). Even the very best handkerchiefs are likely to be affordable, at least for that special someone.

So here are my top three recommendations, for three different budgets.

1. Price bracket: £10 to £20
Berluti cotton socks

I’d love to pretend that I can afford to shop at Berluti regularly. But I can’t. I can afford their socks, though, which while expensive at £20, are the softest and best quality of any I have tried. The full-calf versions are sufficiently thin that your upper calves never feel too warm – a frequent complaint of those that prefer short socks.

And they come in a very snazzy Berluti drawstring bag. Which I know I’m paying for, but love anyway. I put my iPod in it and it means I can pretend I shop at Berluti regularly.

2.Price bracket: £20 to £30
Mother-of-pearl collarbones, TM Lewin

Every man should own a pair of collarbones, which are the inserts that run to the corner of your shirt’s collar and keep it stiff.

Most shirts come with their own, plastic versions. But these are easily bent, lost or snapped. The most important adjective there is the first one – although it is possible to not lose your collarbones and to keep them safe from the washing machine, they will never be as reliable as more permanent ones in a metal or other hard material.

Go for silver over steel. Although no one but you will know what they’re made of, you know and that’s all that matters. Just like the monogram hidden away on the tail of your shirt.

Right now at TM Lewin, both silver and mother-of-pearl are half price, £25 down from £50. Being an individualist, I would recommend mother-of-pearl of those two.

3. Price bracket: £30 to £50
White handkerchief, Hermes

All three of these items are pretty much the best you can buy for your money. A little touch of luxury. But the second two stand out in another way: you really only need one of each. Your luxury collarbones can be taken out at the end of the day and put into your new shirt the next. And you really only need one white handkerchief.

This is for show rather than blow, remember, so it will rarely need to be washed. It simply sits in your breast pocket and makes your jacket look dressed.

And if you only need one, why not go for the best? The Hermes handkerchiefs are luxurious, as you’d expect, and my favourite is the cotton/linen mix that looks as crisp as linen while retaining some of the flexibility of cotton – it doesn’t need to be ironed every time you rearrange it.

Hermes handkerchiefs are £45. Which is a lot of money for a handkerchief. An awful lot. But then if you wear it a couple of times a week for a good couple of decades, I’d say that’s good value.

Three presents, three items of luxury that also deliver value. Happy shopping.

Reader question: Fashion and age

Nigel, London: How would you recommend that a slightly older man with an interest in youth-driven fashion incorporates this into his daily attire? Jeans, for example – some are so skinny they make you look even older than you are.

Men’s style is and has always been about subtlety. The wearing of suede rather than patent leather shoes to a black-tie occasion was enough to draw howls of protest in the past. Today, the best dressed men are often those whose clothes are simply well cut, well fitted or individual in small, subtle ways.

The individuals highlighted in my previous posting are a good example. These Italian gentlemen will use a sombre or conservative background as a means to express themselves elsewhere – in purple driving shoes, for instance, or an oversized watch.

Gianni Agnelli, pictured, is also a great (and well-used) example. His quirks, such as wearing his tie outside this sweater, his watch over his shirt cuff or his monk-front shoes unbuckled have become so adopted by others they have lost most of their originality. Yet they retain their appeal, and everyone wishes they had such individuality of their own.

These are the kind of subtleties one might take up to be more Italian. If one wants to adopt more youthful Anglo-American trends, the key is to do so again with subtlety.

Your suit jacket, for example. One with slightly narrower lapels, a slightly shorter body and just one or two buttons will be instantly more contemporary. Don’t go over the top: narrower, but not narrow lapels; a body that is a little less than half your height, but not on the scale of a ‘bum-freezer’.

These are the kind of things one will not notice at first glance. Certainly not the particulars. But they will notice a more youthful look, perhaps even trendy.

Ideally, the suit would be designed by yourself to these specifications. But you’ll have no trouble finding many suits of this cut or similar to it in the stores today. The key is to try and compare all, and to go for the subtlest you can find.

Another example. Jeans that are straight, not skinny; in a very dark indigo; an inch or so short of touching the ground. Perhaps even with a dark stitching. Contemporary but not extreme.

There are many others. Clean, new Converse trainers with a suit (the key is that Converse are just as narrow and neat as formal shoes. Most trainers are too chunky or rough.)

I hope this helps Nigel.

Reader question: How stylish am I?

Rob, London: I’ve recently started reading your blog and am struck by the universe of style that I am totally oblivious to. On a scale of one to ten (one = no style, ten = very stylish), where do I rank and why?

I’ve known Rob and worked with him for a long time, so it’s simple to describe his general style. The task is also helped by the fact that Rob always wears the same thing.

Rob wears a navy suit, a blue shirt and a blue tie everyday. He wears black socks and black shoes. Sometimes the tie will be black, but it is certainly always dark. The shirt is occasionally white. A few years ago I remember one day he wore a pink shirt. It didn’t happen again.

Rob has a navy overcoat and a navy beanie for the winter. His scarf is grey.

Now there’s nothing wrong with dressing consistently, even to a point that to others might consider dull. Italian men famously wear consistent outfits like this in navy tones, often to provide a background for something more unusual, such as brightly coloured driving shoes or strongly patterned coat. (See my post on the Italian Background.)

But these tonally regular outfits are also used as a way to express the seriousness of business dress, with the focus being on fit and quality rather than colour or individuality. I present two examples here, Matteo Marzotto, CEO of Valentino, and Luca di Montezemolo, chairman of Ferrari. (Images courtesy of The Sartorialist and A Suitable Wardrobe.)

Both men always appear stylish, are even considered icons. Yet their dress is usually simple, unadventurous and classic. The key is fit and some slight variations in texture.

Rob has had a suit or two made for him in the past I believe, in Hong Kong. But most of his suits and shirts are off the peg. Equally, he has often invested in some good quality shoes, some made to order, but other accessories are not necessarily luxurious.

So a steady investment in fit and quality would make a big difference. Try and get back to Hong Kong for some suits, Rob, or read the posts here about getting suits altered when you buy them. The better fit will make a big difference. And given that your accessories are so consistent, it will be good value to invest in some nice ties. Perhaps one in dark blue silk, another in dark blue cashmere.

Which brings me to material. A little bit of variation here can make a big difference – exchanging the shine of silk for the matte of wool, or knitted silk, for instance. Perhaps getting a navy suit in flannel rather than worsted; or using the shine of a cream silk handkerchief or the matte of white linen. All these things are subtle ways to add style to a conservative outfit.

So are you stylish Rob? It would be hard to give you a big score based on present form, but there is obviously an instinctive sense of style there, and there is huge potential for improvement with a few small changes.

So perhaps four out of ten today, with the possibility of seven or eight if you take my advice.

And lose the beanie.

Indochino makes a smart recovery

Some people don’t take criticism well. No matter how well intentioned, or how sensitively put, they see any critical remark as personal. Nothing can be constructive; nothing can be objective.

Kyle Vucko, one of the founders of Indochino, is not one of these people. I’m sure my review of the company’s online suit service, which was certainly critical, did not go down well. At the least, Kyle must have been a little disappointed.

Yet he merely expressed regret at my experience and offered to make every effort to correct it.

Indeed, he took down the ‘Copy Me’ option from the Indochino website immediately. This was one of three options available to a customer looking to get a perfectly fitting suit, and involved measuring a suit you already had that fitted well, so it could be copied. The other two options are to measure yourself and to have a tailor measure you.

The results of the Copy Me process were not good. In my opinion the videos were unclear and the finished suit was a little comical in its fit.

So that option was removed from the site, and Kyle offered to make me another suit that fitted better. The company guarantees a suit that fits perfectly, mine obviously did not, and the fact that the poor fit was in the chest and shoulders made it uneconomic to send the suit back.

So I made my best guess as to the alterations required (this was Kyle’s recommendation, rather than any remeasuring) – one and a quarter inches more on the shoulders, an inch more on the chest and two inches more on the legs.

I got the new suit today, and I have to say the results are not bad. It’s still some way off the bespoke suits I have made in Hong Kong, but it’s a lot better than off-the-peg.

The shoulders are the correct width, though a little tight across the biceps on the top of the sleeve. The chest is broad enough, though a little tight underneath the arms. And it’s a real pleasure to have a trouser waist and sleeve length that are spot on.

I’m not particularly impressed with the material of these suits still, but if you are paying $250 I think this is what you should expect. Those made in Hong Kong are a nicer wool, but then they will start at $350 and have fewer middle men. And it’s unfair to compare either to a $1000 Ralph Lauren suit.

So a smart recovery from Indochino and one that deserves to be written about here, if only for its quality of customer service. I’m unsure whether I would recommend Indochino to a friend, but that is largely because the method by which I arrived at my final suit was not the same one they would use today.

At last, the Norfolk Blazer

It was great to hear so many readers interested in my Norfolk Blazer project – an attempt to design a cashmere jacket that could equally well go with the smartest of ties and occasions, as with the coldest of outdoor excursions.

The addition of elements of the Norfolk jacket to a classic blazer was not straightforward. My tailor Mr Tam looked perplexed on more than one occasion. And as regular readers will remember, the final product lacked in a few areas, having both square fronts at the bottom of the jacket and a roomier fit more suited to hiking than dining.

The lesson from that experience was to always make one previously commissioned piece your archetype, from which the new commission is instructed to deviate in some ways. That way you guarantee that any specifics not brought up will be presumed to be the same as the archetype.

Mr Tam made the adjustments I requested, however, and sent the finished garment through the post. It arrived yesterday, and I show two pictures here for those that were interested.

I apologise profusely for the quality of the pictures, which had to be taken with a simple pocket-sized camera. My only consolation is that most internet pictures of one’s own clothes seem to have this jacket-in-the-headlights look.

The first shot shows the jacket in a formal setting, with the belt tucked away at the rear (it could also be removed entirely). The second shows it set up for an autumn stroll, belted and with the collar up. As previously mentioned, it also buttons underneath the collar with a working buttonhole and hidden button, providing a single, clean barrier when the other three buttons are also fastened.

The only aspect of the jacket not caught here is the action back, a single bellow in the centre of the back.

To my eye, and so far, it seems to perform the functions desired of it. By balancing patch pockets with 100% cashmere, and a smart navy colour with a belt in that navy, it bridges two worlds and two uses.

One final point on postage. Many of these items delivered from Hong Kong or the Far East are sent using EMS, an international speed post system. EMS uses ParcelForce in the UK, as it has no offices of its own. This is not advertised anywhere, however, and if your jacket is held on with customs charges (as mine was) it is not easy to find out which Post Office will be holding your item. In this case, it was not a Post Office at all, as ParcelForce uses its own depots. That’s where I found it, awaiting customs payments.

Just in case it happens to you too.

The waistcoat as jacket

This is an addendum to The Waistcoat Theory, that personal hobbyhorse of mine that attempts to solve the problem of men taking their suit jackets off indoors, and undermining all the aesthetic advantages of a suit as a result. I won’t repeat the details here; a quick search on this site for those words will produce more information on the subject than you could possibly want.

But in brief, the answer is the waistcoat – matching the trousers, worn with a tie and covered by whatever coat is required for the weather outside (topcoat, blazer, nothing at all).

The point was made to me recently, however, that a normal waistcoat could do with some improvements in this mould.

For a start, men can feel a little self-conscious these days wearing an item with a back made of silk. The shiny lustre this displays, together with the silk tie that is normally included across the waist (though this should be purely decorative if the waistcoat fits well) gives a slightly effeminate or ornamental look. Indeed, that is one of the reasons a waistcoat often reminds one of a wedding.

Of course, this silk backing would traditionally never have been seen. Like the lining of the jacket, and of the sleeve, it is purely to allow easy wearing and removal. As the jacket would not be removed, this lining would not be seen.

Secondly, the waistcoat could do with one or two aspects of the jacket to make it feel more formal and suited to be worn on its own as a replacement for the jacket. Primarily, it could do with a collar.

While waistcoats come with many different types of collar (notch, peak, shawl), the notch collar and lapel will look the most natural on a two-piece suit of the type we are discussing. Small peaks on a waistcoat will everywhere look odd, and a shawl collar suggests something too dressy.

Most waistcoats had collars when they were first made, so this is a return to the traditional form. The main reason for their disappearance over the years is money: more material, higher costs.

The replacement of the silk back with self (the same wool as the front) is also traditional. All tailored waistcoats descend from the original postboy vest of nineteenth century England, which was worn for warmth while driving the horses of a coach. As it was worn on its own, largely for warmth, it had wool both front and back.

Obviously having a waistcoat after this fashion requires a tailor or some means of having items made to measure. But then, that should always be the case with waistcoats.

Merrifield's: I found a cobbler!

A while ago I wrote about the absence of good cobblers in London. Not someone who glues new soles on, cuts keys on the side and might possibly do your dry cleaning, but a cobbler that knows and takes an interest in the craft of repairing shoes. I remarked at the time that there seemed to be a similar problem in New York – few people could name a decent cobbler to me. And since then I have asked in John Lobb and a few other high-end cordwainers here: no one had any bright ideas.

It seems it’s a universal problem – the proliferation of the Timpson-style one stop shop and the disappearance of the real cobbler.

I bring it up again now because I’ve found one. Finally. It’s called Merrifield’s, and is located near East Dulwich station in south London. I’m sure there are others tucked away in nooks of major cities, (I believe last time someone suggested one near Old Street) but this guy is good and actually quite close to me.

Why I was looking in the City, where the principle of capitalistic efficiency has swept away all knowledgeable manufacturers that don’t class as luxury, I don’t know. Look local, where customer relationship and loyalty is still possible, nay profitable.

I was originally searching for a cobbler because I was searching for tongue pads. A mythical piece of padding that glues to the underside of your shoe’s tongue, it is the ideal solution for men with low arches, who find it hard to get shoes that both have enough room for their feet and enough grip across the top to keep their heels in place.

They didn’t sell them in Merrifield’s either, but then that’s not the owner’s fault; he’s not a manufacturer. You just can’t buy them today. So he makes them instead. Two odds of leather, some padding and a little glue; all of a sudden my laces have purchase.

In fact, he replaced the tongue entirely because it was simply too thin to provide any support. This he was disgusted with. I didn’t mention they were Brooks Brothers’ Peal & Co. Or how much they cost.

I particularly recommend this solution for anyone who has bought shoes they thought fit them well, only to discover that after a few months of wear and softening leather, the shoe has expanded beyond them.

I also recommend Merrifield’s. I’m sure the number of readers that live within convenient distance of East Dulwich is small, but it’s worth a stop if you’re one of them.