shelling out for shoe repairs.
There are approximately three glorious weeks in New York City when you can wear clogs without socks and remain neither too hot, nor too cold. This year I very nearly missed out on the glory, not because of the weather, but because I spent nearly a month debating whether I should get my very sidewalk-worn clogs repaired.
If you, like me, have shunted your clogs to the back of the closet because you know that another concrete encounter might whittle them down to nothing, here’s some encouragement to get thee to a cobbler instead.
If you’ve worn your cowboy boots for the last three of the 12 years you’ve owned them with the heel support slowly slipping down to the ball of your foot as you walk, put yourself out of your misery and get thee to a cobbler.
If you’re as bad at math as I am and balked at the price of a Birkenstock heel repair and briefly considered splurging on a new pair instead, consider for even a minute that a pricey repair is still a third of the cost of a new pair.
Here’s my problem: I like to fix things. I especially like to fix things myself. When I endeavor to fix something, I understand that the time and labor will not be insignificant, but trained as I am to devalue those things and think only of cold hard cash and final outcomes, I generally consider the cost of repairs I make myself to be zero and the cost of repairs that someone else makes, to be…a lot more than that.
Considering that I possess neither the skills, nor the materials, nor the know-how to repair shoes myself, this is some faulty logic. This is not the first time I’ve gotten shoes repaired and not the first time I’ve dithered over the decision. For me, deciding to pay someone else to fix my shoes requires some calculation and risk analysis, but mostly it requires remembering that I am not a cobbler.
In case you’re having a similar internal debate, here are some of the questions I’ve grappled with, and answered. (As well as some specifics for the shoe-curious.)