FT Weekend

My right shoe

Edwina Ings-Chambers comes away from a weekend cobbling course with a beautiful pair of handmade snakeskin mules and a new appreciation for shop-bought shoes.

A shoe fetish used to be considered slightly unsavoury - look at the trouble Imelda Marcos got herself into. Now it's the sensible pair of pumps that people look at askance.

In the past decade, the popularity of designers such as Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo, the arrival of speciality boutiques such as Scorah Patullo and Sigerson Morrison, and the expansion of footwear departments in leading shops have made exotic shodding seem not an optional indulgence but a mandatory expense.

But what exactly are we paying for? Straps and buckles, crystal and feathers, yes. But also for the art underneath - for the cobbling. I learned just what that's worth when, a few weekends ago I practised it myself at the shoe-making course at the north London studio of design duo Prescott & Mackay.

To be honest, I didn't make a whole pair. I attended half of the two-day session (£150, including materials), so made half a pair: one right shoe. But for eight hours, I was there hammering, stretching and gluing, until I produced my very own chocolate brown snakeskin mule. (The designers finished the left shoe for me.)

Kirsty Prescott and Melissa Mackay already ran a successful made-to-order business when they introduced their do-it-yourself courses 18 months ago. They are so popular that plans for a handbag course are under way.

The surroundings aren't plush - the large equipment-filled room is a former mortuary - but given the unglamorous tasks that lie ahead (glue features heavily), place suits the purpose. There are only two choices to make upon arrival: which style of mule you prefer, classic or asymmetrical, and which material. If you haven't brought the latter with you, there is plenty to choose from: a large trunk brims with swatches of everything from velvet to linen to, my choice, parchment-thin snakeskin.

You are, sensibly, advised to choose a patterned material to conceal any production blemishes.

The basics, such as the pattern, last, heel and resin sole - a leather sole is too complicated for beginners - are all provided. So once your materials have been cut out, it's really just a matter of "piecing the jigsaw together", as Prescott says. It's a long process, though, all done manually: I did everything from stitching my snakeskin, its backing fabric and leather lining together, to covering the heel.

Classes are small (eight students maximum), and the teaching is individual enough to build your confidence quickly. I was nervous at the start, especially about handling the polyurethane glue, but soon became slap-happy. My finished mule is impressive, most of all to me.

This course produces not just good-looking shoes, but appreciation. When it's done, you know the time-and-effort value of your own handiwork and also, by extension, the value of store-bought versions.

Nothing is as unique as shoes made by your own hand, for your own feet. But then, after hammering your thumb repeatedly, you'll probably be willing to turn the tools over and pay nearly anything, crystals or no, for someone else to do the job for you.

April 2000