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shoe trouble

posted by:  audra

i didn’t think it was going to happen there for awhile, but! i have finally taken my beloved shoes into my favorite cobbler.  i attempted to take my broken, beloved shoes to the cobbler.  last night i went out of my way to drop off all of my precious cargo to be repaired.  well, three pairs at least.  and it was fucking closed.  againthis is the third time in a row that this has happened to me.  their hours on the door state that they are open until 6:00pm every night.  and every time i show up shortly after 5:00pm, there is a sign on the door saying “will return at 9:00am”  fucking hell!  are you fucking kidding me with this shit?  to make it worse, i’ve called.  and called.  and called their number & just gotten the answering machine–and this is even during normal business hours.  so i’m pissed.  i have no cute shoes to wear, & am in total panic about what shoes i could possibly wear on to go out with on saturday.

i did this to myself.  had i taken them in, one by one, as the heel pads crumbled, or even as the metal started to show, this could have been prevented.  but now, all my good shoes are fucked & i’m upset.

i could have taken in ten, & probably should have, but that will have to be another time.  that’s too many at once, ten.  just the three pairs alone scares me…one of which are my babies, the red marc jacobs that i lament over constantly.  the other two pairs have been broken for ever.  forever.  a weitzman & a fairly inexpensive square-toed joey o, both stilettos.

typically i’m not wild about weitzman shoes, what with all that bling & tack all over them, but these are perfect, pointy, black stilettos that i’ve had for years, and the heel has cracked once again.  also, the lining is falling apart.  and the joey o’s?  i got them for probably less than $100 like….four or five years ago.  i got them right before a birthday, & in typical new-shoe-fashion, i proceeded to get drunk one evening whilst galloping around the house in them.  “breaking them in”, i call it.  i then remember getting the brilliant idea of making one of my favorite dishes–buttered pasta with tons of kosher salt–right after midnight, as it was now officially my birthday.  i had romantic visions of sitting my then-much-thinner-ass down on the couch & devouring my pasta while staring at my shoes…and i’m pretty sure i was watching the beautiful girls dvd on repeat.  anyway, i peeled around the corner in the kitchen, probably scrambling for some butter, & one of the heels snapped off.

just like that.

it was a clean break.

i was so pissed.  and on my birthday!  ridiculous!  they were fairly cheap though.  and the heel was plastic.  plastic!  not even coated with leather!  anyway, i was so pissed that i threw them in my closet after only one wear & they haven’t seen the light of day until now.  even though they’re several years old, they are still really cute.  very smart looking, these are.  so, we’ll see how long they last at the hands of my cobbler.

my cobbler is a funny little man.  he looks exactly the way one would imagine a cobbler:  kind of short, old, long grey hair, round glasses…except this one smokes a lot of pot.  every time i go in there it’s like hotboxing.  sort of like tommy chong & geppetto from pinocchio had a baby & the baby opened a shoe repair shop.    the narcotic indulgence is fine with me–if one is at home, or hanging out with friends or something–but not when you’re holding a hammer & nail to my $500 shoes, thank you.  maybe it steadies his hands…?  eases his arthritis to get into the fine leather-work details of my footwear?  so far, no mistakes.  he does a beautiful job refurbishing where the back of the heel has become scuffed from driving & resoling where i’ve walked many a drunken step on cobbled sidewalks & gotten the heel lodged in a crack.

there are just two instances thus far where i thought i was going to have to hurt him:  the first was when the stitching was coming undone from the zipper pull on my large coach handbag.  i took it in to him, and a couple days later, it was ready.  i had sam go pick it up for me, but he couldn’t find it right away.  in fact, i believe he said it “wasn’t here”.  sam told him that it was a “big, black, leather handbag?  you redid the zipper pull?”  finally, after digging through stacks & stacks of bulky plain brown paper bags, he found it.  crisis averted.

the second time, i had taken in some nice michael kors heels.  not terribly high-end, but i love them & have had him resole them several times.  i went in to pick them up, the night i had to wear them.  i handed him my ticket and he said they weren’t ready.  he said, “oh, no, no.  those are gonna take me a few days.  i had to unscrew the heel & order a special fitting for them.  try back on tuesday.”

i was furious.  i barked at him spitting, “um, you told me you’d have them ready!  tonight!  by 4pm!  i need them tonight, and this is bullshit about unscrewing the heels.   you’ve worked on them before, and i’ve never had a problem.  just give me the shoes & i’ll take them elsewhere.  i’m not paying for your services.”

he held up the most hideous skank-deluxe strappy prom shoes i’ve ever seen…believing them to be mine.

i said, “those are not mine.   mine are the black pumps with studs?”

“oh…THOSE!  yes, of course!  they’re right here.  i just got done polishing them.  here you go.”

“oh!  they look purrfect.  thank  you so much.  have a great night!”

again with the pot-smoking during work hours!  jesus christ!  i almost had a shoe-aneurysm!   in a bad way!

his prices have gone up considerably since i started going to him a number of years ago, but his quality is well worth it.  currently, he’s charging $25 per pair for a new heel pad & half-sole, complete with a little metal tack in the toe to help prevent excess wear there, too…which is still ridiculously cheap compared to a new, $400 or $500 shoe.   i consider my shoes to be my children, so it’s kind of like taking them to the pediatrician; the little metal tack thing acting as a booster shot.  i’m a little hesitant, though, about the marc jacobs repair.  they’re my favorites, & they’ve never had to make a trip to the shoe doctor.  and now my shiny manolos are ruined, too.  however will he make the dull silver on the back of the heel gleam again?!  will he fuck up the suede leopard print lining?  oh jesus, i think my head may explode.  i’m shallow & materialistic like that.

so, wish me luck!  or, better yet, wish geppetto-chong-the-shoe-guy luck.   he fucks up & disfigures one of my babies, i’ll be driving one of those little shoe nails through his forehead.  if i can ever get in the fucking door.

i’ll keep you posted.

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