Q: Can you use old shoe-leather for crafting?
A: Yes, if you don't mind rough, rustic and simple.
Q: Is it worth it?
A: No, not financially, but yes if you have an emotional attachment to the idea.
Q: Have you ever actually done it?
A: Yes, and I got a good story for my trouble.
You can definitely cut up your old leather shoes and use the leather in craft projects. But if the shoes are so old and worn out that you are willing to sacrifice them, the leather is probably old and dry, scuffed and cracked and generally not very pretty. Plus, it's time consuming to disassemble the shoes, the amount of leather recovered is minimal, and you'll spend even more time reconditioning the leather into a workable state.
But if you have a deep-seated need to use every scrap of resources, there are a few projects where old shoe leather is appropriate.
Or if you have an emotional attachment to a particular pair of shoes, you can keep a piece of those shoes, and the memories you formed while wearing them, by reclaiming and repurposing a small part of those shoes. A rustic bracelet from your old hiking boots, or maybe a key fob from some old work boots makes a nice keepsake and keeps the adventures you experienced while wearing the boots more alive in your heart.I'm thinking of my grandfather's barn. There were loops of leather nailed to the posts where tools could be hung. Some of the tools had rough leather sheathes, wraps or lanyards. There were pieces of old leather tacked at the corners of wooden crates, used as hinges on lids, pulls for drawers, or used as padding around sharp edges. I can't swear that any of that leather came from work boots, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't bought new. The leather was salvaged from some other worn-out source and might have already been old when my grandfather was young. Nothing went to waste on the farm, so if you have that attitude, it might be worthwhile to reclaim your own scraps of shoe-leather.
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| A pair of my old hiking boots waiting for disassembly with some previously salvaged shoe-leather sitting between them. The salvaged leather has darkened from all the oil used to condition it. The hiking boots may not have enough leather in them to make it worthwhile to scavenge them. But those boots and I have seen both coasts, deserts, mountains and swamps together. Pictures are fine, but it would be nice to have a small physical memento of our adventures made from the leather. |
The first time I did it was with an old pair of shoes that I had an emotional attachment to. They were just a pair of decent quality leather loafers, nothing special. But I wore them almost every day for several years, then as house shoes for a few more, then as yard shoes for a few more. The soles were cracked, the toe flopped, but the leather was still good, and they seemed nearly indestructible. Eventually, they got retired to the cabin. They were still perfect to gather wood in or to wear on the porch. They slipped on so easily that I could blindly step into them even with my hands full. When, after a good twenty years, my toe started poking through and I started tripping over the floppy flap of the sole, I finally put them away for good. I did not throw them away, just put them out of sight.
One fall, I needed a small piece of leather but didn't have any at the cabin. I knew I would forget to bring any on my next trip and was about to settle for some galvanized metal strapping when I remembered those old shoes. I found them and started to take them apart. It should only take a few minutes to get the small scrap of leather I needed.
Three days later, I had that small strap.
First, I had to detach the sole from the upper body. The sole was only half attached by that point, so it should have been easy, right? No, I tugged and twisted and pulled and barely managed to separate them another quarter inch. I resorted to using two pairs of channel-lock pliers and leverage over the corner of the worktable. Finally, I got them apart.
Then I had to separate the stitched panels. That glue, and the sewing thread, were equally strong. It took a lot of careful work with my pocketknife and pliers to de-panelize the parts. Then I had to remove the inner lining and scrape off all the glue residue and the feathery thread ends. Eventually I was left with a shockingly small collection of very stiff, cracked pieces of leather. The shoes had not been polished or conditioned since they were retired from public view. They had been soaked and baked repeatedly for years and the leather was so rough you could have used it as sandpaper. I would have to condition them.
I could have used vegetable oil as a conditioner, but high-end Italian virgin olive oil just seemed wrong, not rustic enough somehow. Instead, I chose to use solid coconut oil because it reminded me of the Mink oil I had used as a child. The leather soaked up the first application instantly, then the second, then the third. After letting them soak overnight, I was left with stiff but bendable pieces of leather. I applied the oil again and started to bend and roll the leather, trying to work the oil deep into all the desiccated fibers. I stopped when my fingers began to ache. I applied another coat of oil, then another before calling it a day.
The next morning, the leather was finally pliable enough that it would bend without creasing or kinking, I applied another coat of oil, massaged and rolled it some more and finally decided that I could harvest the one small strip of leather I needed for the strap. I used a big pair of shears and cut the strap out, poked a hole in each end and even added some rounded corners.
After several hours work over the course of three days, I finally had an overly oily, ten-cent leather strap. I was quite proud of myself and my homespun ingenuity. Frugality and the can-do country attitude had not been bred out of me after all and I couldn't wait to get back and tell my city friends about my accomplishment. I could hear my grandfather laughing at me, "Son, that ain't how you run a profitable farm." I would leave out that part out of the story when I told my friends, but I knew it was true. The whole operation was flawed from concept to execution to the final result.
But I felt good. It was like my balcony garden or the home-baked bread, or a printing a 3d part. It was more expensive than just buying the object new, took up time I claimed not to have, and probably seemed silly to someone not inclined to those types of endeavors. But my soul was happy and that, often times, is much more important.
I've harvested shoe-leather, or parts of shoes, a few times since then. I've covered sharp corners, made a knuckle guard, a couple of key fobs, made bumpers from a heel rubber and used the toe of some old work-boots as a tool holder. It still doesn't make financial sense, wouldn't look right in the living room of my city house. And my grandfather still laughs at me, but lovingly now. I think he understands that, even if you have a nice new rod-and-reel, sometimes you just want to sit with a cane pole and think for a bit. Sometimes you just need to do some meaningless manual tasks out in the shed to clear your head.
So, if you need some quality leather quickly, at a good price, you should never ever even think about re-using old shoe-leather. Buy some cheap squares of crafting leather and play. But if you need to sit and ponder while using your hands, then you could get a few scraps of rugged, rustic but very usable leather while feeding your spirit at the same time. For your trouble, you'll get enough to make a meaningful memento, a small talisman made from the discards of your past life.
But you'll have to decide for yourself if all the effort is worth it.
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