Once upon a time in the kingdom of Abbotsford, there lived a thrift-conscious girl named Angelika with a love for shoes. Had she been to-the-manor-born, she may have gone down in history like Imelda Marcos with tens of thousands of shoes crowding closets the size of small homes. But alas (or perhaps not) she was to-the-rental-apartment- born, of a mother enchanted by the thrift faeries. So Angelika contented herself with thrifted shoes, while she waited for Fluevogs to show up in a thrift shop for $5 (this is not that faery tale.)
In the same kingdom, there was a cobbler of Asian descent who worked in kingdom’s mall for years. Angelika would purchase her thrifty shoes and when they would break down, she’d take them to the cobbler who would faithfully fix them so they could be worn again and again. But one day, the cobbler disappeared.
“Woe is me!” Angelika cried, for she was somewhat of a drama queen. “Where will I take my shoes now?”
Having no cobbler to go to, she wore her thrifted shoes until they died of natural causes – broken heels, soles worn through, leather straps snapped in two. She cried a little each time she had to throw a pair away, lamenting anew the loss of her cobbler.
Then one day, a near tragedy occurred. A favourite pair of sandals purchased for only $5 at a Value Village years ago (before that evil empire started over-charging for its merchandise) came to their life’s end. Angelika was dismayed. She had purchased these thinking she’d wear them for a summer or two. Five years later, they were still her favourites, even though they weren’t especially pretty or unique; they simply felt wonderful on her feet – as if a handsome prince had put them there. But now the heels were worn to the nails, the soles a little holey, the inner soles coming off each time she removed the shoes. They were done, but Angelika was not willing to give up.
“I must save these,” she said.
She put the worn and broken shoes in her car and searched the kingdom of Abbotsford for a new cobbler. She searched high and low and finally she saw a store sign: Vic’s Shoe and Boot Repair (also key cutting and trophy engraving.) “Well,” she thought, “I’ll give this Vic a try.”
But lo and behold, upon entering the shop who did she see but her favourite cobbler from the mall! There was such rejoicing! Until he looked at her shoes. He shook his head.
“It will cost you at least $25 if you want me to completely repair these,” he said.
“It’s worth it to me,” Angelika replied. “Even at a $30 investment, I’ll get years more out of them. Can you do it?” The cobbler said he would try.
A week later, Angelika picked up her shoes. They were like new: beautifully restored outer soles and heels, repaired inner soles that no longer stuck to her feet. She put them on – they were restored! Angelika went home rejoicing again – her shoes were saved and she’d located her favourite cobbler.
And the moral of the story is: find out your cobbler’s name so you can look him up when he moves. (Pretty sure this fellow’s name isn’t Vic.)