A visit to Dino’s
The small pleasures of adulthood come piecemeal. There is, as we have all heard, no user’s manual for becoming a man; one mostly stumbles onto these things oneself.
Thus it was that I found myself putting another notch in my belt on Friday and stepping for the first time into a SHOE REPAIR SHOP.
The notion of shoe repair itself was not foreign, of course, but I had never dropped off a pair of my shoes to get repaired before. The shoes themselves were a previous Man Milestone, having been bought several years ago, the first pair of dress shoes I ever bought for myself, and certainly the most expensive shoes I had ever bought for myself at the time.
But they were quite soft on the outside and I am generally not the most demure shoe-wearer so by last week their black had become thoroughly grey on both the toes, and there was a sort of embarrassing number of proper gouges or scrapes there as well. I was embarrassed to wear them. I didn’t think there was anything that could be done with them. Now, you know that this was my first time dropping off shoes to be repaired but I still can only imagine that this was a real feat of repairery.
They are totally black, totally smooth, and very shiny. There is not one gouge or scratch! It’s quite delightful to see a thing transformed like that. And new laces to boot.
I had taken them to Dino’s Shoe Repair in Columbus Circle. My knowledge of the field is incomplete at best but I understand they are something of a Name. In any case, it is easy to find on the internet many different rave reviews, most of them highlighting the quirky Italian mother who says ‘Like new! Like new!’ with only the barest glance at them. And it’s true that they’re enjoyable people to deal with. My only regret, really, is that I haven’t ever been to your standard, incredibly common run-of-the-mill shoe-repair-cum-key-duplication-cum-knick-knackery for comparison.
