From time to time, it’s your turn and today you’re up. I’m at a bit of a loss in my quest to take good care of my boots before winter really gets under way, and I want your help.

The shortie cowboy-esque menswear anklettes here are a vintage pair by Justin, and that’s their before picture. The heels were in bad shape so I dropped them off about a month ago at a north-of-the-ship-canal, family-run shoe repair shop on a well-traveled east-west thoroughfare.

Why so vague? Because I’m not happy with the service I got there, but my mother taught me that if you can’t say something nice about someone, it’s best to just be sort of ambiguous.

In terms of the manner in which these folks replaced what was beat-up and dire on these things, well, that was all fine-enough. No letters shall be written home about the leather care, on the other hand.

And I’m not going to get into the fact that they required three weeks to do it. I respect difficult work and all that is crafted by hand. Anyway. Here’s the after shot.

But what has always bothered me about my visits to this particular family of cobblers is the personal interaction. That much more subtle aspect of customer care. It’s as though you’re made to feel like, well, a heel for wearing down the heel of your boots.

The last time was particularly bad. There was a lot of sighing. A lot of shifting of body weight (that kissing cousin to the rolled eye), a lot of uncomfortable silence.

These uncomfortable silences and sighs weren’t as much about the Justin boots, but about the vintage brown leather zip-ups – also stolen from the menswear department… and then made best friends to boyfriend jeans and skirts – pictured here.

It wasn’t so much that, before the cap on the heel and the toe were placed, these things looked as if they’d been dragged down a dirt road behind a Ford pick-up. It wasn’t like that at all. It’s just that in two or three places, the leather had cracked and some downy white lining was peeking through. They didn’t look good, and the cracks were obviously not good for the integrity of the overall boot. And let me please state here that I don’t want to live in a world in which these shoes are not part of my life. I love them, I need them, they, in part, define who I am. Strong words? Yep. Strong words for what are perfect, sublime, staple-of-my-wardrobe four-season boots.

So anyway. I was picturing cobblers of yore back in the days when things were not discarded simply for being a little down on their luck. I figured a cap here, a patch there, and we’d be on our way. Sure, with that reconstruction worn as a sort of purple heart on the sleeve — or I guess it would be toe — but you know, more or less the same.

And they are. More or less. But I can’t shake the feeling that there was no care put into the job, and maybe not even a lot of considered thought.

Anyway: Onward. I could have asked you all of this before I took these guys in. I knew before I walked in that I have not previously been thrilled with this vendor’s service. But I wasn’t sure where else to go. I take responsibility for that.

But before I take these gorgeous, made-in-Italy-by-hand L.D. Tuttles from Lambs Ear in for their post-summer soft, supple leather love (the back of the heel needs some attention; I drive around a lot for work, and stop-and-go city traffic makes for wear-and-tear), I want your two cents.

Please tell me where you go for shoe and boot repair and why. Let me know what or who has worked for you.

Share your experiences—and the names, addresses, and phone numbers of your most positive ones.

Please and thank you in advance, from the bottom of my well-worn soles.