SOLE MAN GETS A NEW NICHE
COBBLER BECOMES ONLINE SENSATION AFTER POSTING SHOE REPAIR VIDEOS
IF YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD ME THREE YEARS AGO THAT SHOE REPAIRS COULD HAVE A STAGE, I WOULD HAVE LAUGHED. I CAN’T BELIEVE ALL THESE PEOPLE ENJOY IT. — JIM MCFARLAND
As a cobbler, Jim Mcfarland has spent his career with his eyes trained downward on his work. But Mcfarland, 59, now has more than one million followers on Tiktok and hundreds of thousands on Instagram. He posts videos of his work as a cobbler — from replacing thin soles to fixing zippers, reviving rubber heels to adding customized touches to time-worn pieces. Mcfarland breathes new life into seemingly unwearable shoes from his shop in Lakeland, Fla.
“If you would have told me three years ago that shoe repairs could have a stage, I would have laughed,” Mcfarland said from his shop, Mcfarland’s Shoe Repair, while shining a pair of leather dress shoes from the 1980s. “I can’t believe all these people enjoy it.”
Viewers are mesmerized by Mcfarland’s careful cobbling, which usually involves a combination of meticulously dissecting old shoes and reconstructing them until they appear new. While Mcfarland often uses a sanding machine, he does most of the work by hand and with basic tools.
In one video, which has been viewed nearly 60 million times, Mcfarland revives and personalizes a pair of limited-edition boots, painting the soles a deep indigo shade. The video shows every step of the process.
“I could watch a cobbler all day!” someone commented. “It is so relaxing to me.”
According to Mcfarland, becoming a cobbler — one of the world’s oldest professions — isn’t simple.
“It takes three to five years to learn the trade,” said Mcfarland, who learned from his father, who learned from his father, who learned from his uncle. “This is my family heritage, my history. We’ve been at it a long time.”
As a teen, Mcfarland wasn’t keen on becoming a cobbler. When he was 20, though, his father got sick, and Mcfarland dropped out of college to help him run the family business.
“I had a feeling I was going to wind up back here anyway,” Mcfarland said. “I have no regrets. I really love being here.”
The shoe repair industry has been dwindling for decades, with only about 3,500 repair businesses scattered across the country.
“The problem is, nobody’s learning the craft,” said Mcfarland, who is training his nephew to one day take over his shop.
Remaining cobblers are struggling to manage the demand.
“It gets a little hectic trying to keep up,” said Mcfarland,
whose daughter, Tori Mcfarland, 25, launched his social media presence just before the pandemic, drawing in even more business.
As Mcfarland’s videos began to take off, people across the country started asking if he would accept mail-in shoe repairs. They now make up about 50 per cent of his business.
Mcfarland is an advocate for buying high-quality shoes and mending them as needed, rather than purchasing inexpensive and trendy shoes that tend to not weather well. He said he frequently fixes shoes that are more than 40 years old. When he’s finished with them, “they’ll be good for probably another 30 to 50 years if you take care of them.”
Mcfarland’s mentality is aligned with the mending movement, which promotes repairing — rather than replacing — tattered or broken things. Unlike fast fashion, which has catastrophic consequences for the environment, the mending movement seeks to reduce consumption and waste. The phenomenon has spread across social media with a community of avid menders on Tiktok and other platforms. “Visible mending” — when repairs are artful and deliberately visible — has become its own movement.
“With all of the stuff that we have on this planet — stuff that is made out of plastic and polyester and stuff that is not going to biodegrade in the landfill — we need to keep it in the rotation for as long as possible,” said Rebecca Harrison, 32, the founder of Old Flame Mending, a tailor in Avalon, Pa., that specializes in reviving old garments.
The visible mending movement is loosely based on sashiko — a traditional Japanese embroidery technique. Atsushi Futatsuya, 40, teaches online workshops on the art form with his mother, Keiko.
The method “originated when the Japanese didn’t have enough resources to replace fabric,” Futatsuya explained. “Stitching was done for making fabric stronger or warmer, so they did not have to mend so often.”
The result is a decorative patchwork of fabrics that’s also functional.
“Sashiko is more than just stitching or design or patterns,” said Futatsuya, who lives in Pennsylvania, and shows his work on social media. “Sashiko for me is a way to add a story with stitching.”
Mcfarland said the sentiment behind the work they do is similar.
“Good material can always be revived. It can last a lifetime.”