I have recently discovered the unparalleled joys of polishing shoes.
A few days after returning to Maui (and, for the first time, having a full-size closet rather than a small backpack to store my belongings) I decided to go purchase a nice pair of dress shoes. When I say “nice” I mean mid-range. Not a $300 pair of Pradas, but not a pair of rubber-soled used shoes from the salvation army. I wanted a simple, nice pair of shoes.
I still remember examining the selection at the store, running my fingers over the various textures of leather. Examining brown and black shoes alike. Turning the shoes over in my hand so as to examine the workmanship and material of the sole.
I decided on a pair of basic brown leather-soled shoes. They had metal reinforces where the laces wound their way around and secured themselves over the tongue of the shoe, and fine stitching around the bottom, under the lip of the shoe. These were perfect.
I took them home and proudly awaited the moment when I could wear them to a nice show at the local arts center, or to a party.
I did wear them, and proudly. As I wore them, however, I began to notice scuffs appearing on the fine leather. At first, I tried to walk without scuffing my feet. Looking back, I’m sure I looked rather similar to an Ostrich picking its way through some especially thick brush. This did not work.
The scuffs would not stay away. Each time I took my shoes off at the end of the night, my face would fall in disappointment and helplessness. What could I do?
I had never really paid attention to the men who shined shoes in airports. I always thought of shoe shining as old fashioned, a frivolous way for business men to spend money. I wasn’t even sure I knew what shoe-shining was.
Just two weeks ago, I happened across a YouTube video made my a group called “Modern Butlers”. In the video, a mustached man with a formal English accent sat, looking oddly out of place against the backdrop of plants and trees. He was apparently on a porch of sorts.
He was talking about how to shine shoes.
I nearly clicked on to another video, but stopped myself. A faint bell in the back of my mind was telling me that this could hold an important key for me.
“One should first remove the laces, so one can adequately polish the tounge of the shoe. Otherwise, this part of the shoe will get worn and cracked very quickly.” The man said.
Hm? A way to improve the life and look of my beloved dress shoes? Perhaps it was worth a go.
Down I went to the department store, picking an old-fashioned looking tin of brown wax-based polish and a short-bristle brush to apply and buff it onto the shoe. Anyone riding the bus to my house that afternoon would have seen a young man looking smug and eager, very ready to try out my new supplies.
As soon as I was home, I tore open the packaging. Upon opening the tin, my nose crinkled as a strangely foreign smell pugnated the room. It was not a particularly unpleasant smell, it reminded me of old saddles hung in a stable I would visit as a child.
My first shine was not particularly successful. I overdid the polish, and had to spend alot of time buffing it off with a soft cloth. With each new attempt, I became more and more practiced. I can now give my shoes an excellent shine in less than five minutes. It is my end-of-day wind-down after a particularly fancy occasion. A meditation of sorts.
There are many things I have only recently been discovering in life, which, similar to shining shoes, can bring a feeling of pride and instinctual workman’s satisfaction to the end of the day (or even the beginning).
Next time you’re out, pick up some shoe polish and dig out your old pair of fancies. Give them a shine, and see how a little effort can breathe new quality and life into an old object.
