It’s hard to get things repaired in a throwaway world

Shoes can be repaired.

This was big news to a few of the younger folks in my office (and by “younger” I mean “everybody but me”).

The topic came up the other day while I was trying to find a local shoe repair shop. When I was a kid — back when Jesus was still doing carpentry work in His stepdad’s business — every neighborhood had at least one shoe repair place.

If my shoes wore out before I outgrew them, I didn’t toss them away and get a new pair; instead, I wore my sneakers for a few days while my “good” shoes were being cobbled back together. 

To pass the time while waiting, my old man would volunteer to deliver his stock lecture on how hard I was on shoes, slacks, jackets, shirts and my mother’s nerves.

These days, the idea that something might be repaired rather than replaced is an utterly foreign one. I’m surprised people keep their cars beyond the date the first oil change is due! Wouldn’t it be easier to just buy a new one?

OK, I’m ranting. We old guys do that from time to time, when we’re not busy yelling at kids to get the hell off our lawn.

The shoes I dropped off this morning aren’t crazy expensive John Lobb oxfords, but they aren’t exactly ten buck Wally World Wonder Walkers, either. (Try saying that three times fast!)

You tried, didn’t you?

I paid about ninety bucks for them just a couple years ago. They’re casual deck shoes, but they’re dressy enough for the office and comfortable enough to wear every day. Most importantly, they’re shoes I don’t have to think about.

Thinking about what I’m going to wear is, far as I’m concerned, the most tedious process imaginable. That’s why, whenever I find an article of clothing I like — a shirt, a pair of jeans, whatever — I’ll buy half a dozen identical items and then wear what is essentially the same outfit every day for the next few years or until the fabric starts developing holes or an excess accumulation of salsa stains.

I can’t afford to do that with shoes, though; one pair of “work” shoes, one pair of fiercely uncomfortable dress shoes, one pair of cowboy boots for those occasions when I’m dating a girl who’s taller than me, and a couple pair of old sneakers; that’s it.

I have to replace the sneakers from time, but the leather shoes? They last practically forever, as long as there’s someone around who knows how to repair them.

And, as Shakespeare once wrote, “There’s the rub.” There’s one guy around here who still fixes shoes. One. When he’s gone, there will be none. 

I suppose when that time comes, I’ll fix my shoes myself. Though with my skill set, it’s likely duct tape will figure prominently in those repairs.

Sigh. It’s hard to be a saver in a throwaway world.