While streetwear is a lifelong obsession for some, for many it acts as a springboard to a more refined clothing range. The latest brand which has risen from streetwear is French label Commune De Paris 1871.

Named after a French government that ruled briefly in 1871 (hailed as the first assumption of power by the working class) Commune De Paris started up in mid 2008. The team consists of three members in Sebastian Lyky, Edouard Launay and Alexandre Maïsetti. Maïsetti previously helmed streetwear brand Shaiwear, a brand which became infamous for a marketing campaign that attracted the ire of several high profile outlets.

While it can be risky for brands and fashion to use specific parts of history as a fashion inspiration, Maisetti feels comfortable doing so. Whilst admitting that he found the movement ‘aesthetically pleasing’, he also stated that ‘This period in French history is not only rich in symbolism and imagery, but also inspiring’. Going on to say that this was ‘a kind of homage’.

The clothes themselves are of the well made basics variety, with the clothes focusing on making a few things in the best way they know how as opposed to reinventing wheel. The cotton they use is Egyptian, whilst the rest of the fabrics (including cashmere and merino wool) come from Italy.

When it comes to the topic of prestige no longer being the sole factor to certain customers, Alexandre states, ‘People need to know that they pay a fair price. Prestige is a thing. But it can no longer remains the only stake.’

In a previous blog I extolled the virtues of Valenki, moulded Russian felt boots. Mine have served me exceedingly well this winter, particularly as the snow flurries of London melted to slush. The felt provides superb traction, and is also the soling material of choice for many fly fishermen and for the rather less genteel pasttime of canyoning.

Wet felt provides a superbly suitable ‘grip’ for wader soles and for those that choose to spend their spare time hopping through pebbled river beds (see boots below). Wet felt also holds body heat far more successfully than rubber soles and dries remarkably quickly.

My fascination with felt was further increased with a curious find in the archives of the Northampton Footwear Museum. I came across the below shoe, complete with its felt sole and layered felt heel. It was labeled ‘magazine’ shoe, and has a very distinct hand stitched arrow on the toe.

I have drawn a blank so far on its origins or purpose, and am hoping one of our blog readers may be able to shed some light. As you can see, the upper is in mid-brown grain leather and sadly the sock has been removed, so no makers details are available. All information gratefully appreciated….

I recently took the plunge and bought my first pair of hand-painted shoes on an Italian last at Lodger. Due to the beautiful, deep patina, I assumed that a neutral polish would be the best choice. To keep the painstaking efforts into painting the shoes visible to the world, right?

Wrong. Luckily I had aired my views to store manager Clement. He explained to me that this is a common misconception and that using neutral polish can actually damage hand painted shoes.

The best way to demonstrate this would be to use the polish on a brand new pair. The effect would be small, but the sylvette would be coloured by the process. Every time you polish hand-painted shoes, a little bit of the paint is removed. Granted, you will get a wonderful shine, but over time the shoes will appear less vibrant in colour.

The shoes I had opted for were rosso diablo whole cuts. So I immediately asked for a dark red or cherry polish to accompany the shoes. Wrong again. Clement helpfully explained that a dark brown would be best to bring out the patina of the shoes. It is easy to forget that the layers of polish are so thin that they very subtly add to the colour of the shoe.

The colour of the slab of polish in the tin doesn’t necessarily have to match the colour of the leather perfectly. I guess I should have re-read my article on colour theory before going into the store…

I have since spoken to friends who swear by neutral polish for their shoes. I get the impression that this was more out of laziness than choice – one tin for all their shoes. One guy gave me an honest critique. He said that neutral polish does seem to “dry out” quicker on some of his shoes and that he has to apply quite a lot of water and extra polish.

He also noted that neutral polish dries white in the small cracks and folds on his shoes. It also collects in the broguing. I am going to buy some to see if this is the case and investigate which leathers neutral polish is more likely to dry out.

But something tells me I will be sticking to multiple tins of coloured polishes and creams regardless. Even if I could use the space they take up in my new apartment. (Yes, it is THAT small…)

It has been a little while since I delved into the history of footwear and you may think that it is an odd time of year to be doing so with flip flops. Well, it was the sight of a man in short trousers and flip flops hopping through six inches of snow that inspired me.

Zori, pluggers, jandals, thongs – there really are a lot of different names for flip flops around the world. There are more names than there are designs. In essence the flip flop has not changed for thousands of years: a thin sole is held to the foot by two straps in a Y shape that join in between the two biggest toes on the foot.

It is a simple design and a classic one. While I don’t favour them myself, the familiar sound of hundreds flip flops fills many a shopping centre in the summer months.

The oldest evidence of flip flops can be found on ancient Egyptian tombs from around 4000 BC. These would have been made of papyrus and palm leaves, much like the oldest surviving examples from 1500 BC that are on display in the British Museum.

There are examples of flip flops in other early cultures such as the Masai in Africa and in Greece, Mexico, China, India and Japan. It is the last of these that holds the most importance to their enduring modern appeal.

Japanese zori date from at least the Heian period (794-1185) and following World War II, soldiers from the United States and New Zealand took the woven soled items back home.

The popularisation of flip flops wasn’t complete until cheap rubber and plastic versions flooded the market. Morris Yock of Auckland patented just such a design in 1957. Cue flip flop uproar. Englishman John Cowie started a plastics business in Hong Kong straight after the war and his children have claimed that he started making plastic Japanese Sandals (or jandals) in the late 1940s.

There is also a claim that Yock merely imported Cowie’s footwear. Alas, the issue remains unresolved. Who knew flip flops could court such controversy?

The status of flip flops in the United States was secured after the Korean War when servicemen once again took them home as souvenirs. But this time, they were plastic. It was perfect – pop culture exploded at the same time and flip flops could be produced in any colour. Their popularity was anchored in California and, in particular, by surfers.

It was probably the variety of colours in contrast to black formal wear that sparked the change. Fifty years later and I don’t care if I’m square. I think flip flops are hard to walk in, uncomfortable and ugly. They also cause blisters in between your toes. Give me some black brogues any day; I don’t care if I look silly on the beach.