On my post about developing a patina on my chestnut wingtips, I complained about polishing problems. There was a thin line of light coloured leather at the bottom of the uppers that I couldn’t get to with the dark tan polish.

It was almost invisible to anyone else, but like a skeleton in the closet, I knew it was there. And it was doing my head in.

I was then subject to all sorts of suggestions. One of my friends even suggested wrenching the uppers a bit to get the sylvette in closer. I winced at the thought. By far the most sensible option was a toothbrush with soft bristles.

That evening, I popped into my local chemist and bristled myself at the cost of cotton earbuds as I purchased two cheap toothbrushes. They worked a treat on the small test area I selected near the heel cup. The handle of the brush meant I had excellent control and could put the polish exactly where I wanted it.

But there was still a problem. I bought two toothbrushes so that I had one to apply the polish and one to buff it. The application stage had worked perfectly, but the polish smudged and streaked when I tried to develop a shine.

A week later, my girlfriend arrived for another visit. She brought me lots of British things including a proper Easter egg, Jelly Tots, Marmite and a baking tray for Yorkshire puds (which almost ended up burning down my apartment block, but that’s another story).

“And I’m sick of you moaning about not having these,” she said as she tossed me a bag.

With great joy I opened the bag to see a packet of 200 cotton ear buds. (I know, I’m odd, but this is relevant. Please bear with me.)

For the next day or two, I couldn’t get enough and my ears were sparkling clean. All was well in the world until I remembered my polish problem. It all clicked into place and within minutes I was applying polish to the hard to reach places with a toothbrush and buffing it with an earbud.

An unusual solution, perhaps, but it works.

Only a couple of weeks after getting over my shoe paranoia, my new theory of wearing them at the first opportunity to get it out of the way was scuppered. I was eagerly opening the box containing my fresh chestnut wingtips and it dawned on me… They were going to need a good polish before I could wear them.

My well-dressed, cross-Atlantic delivery man confirmed it. “You’ll need to given the whole shoe a layer or two of darker polish all over, slightly more around the heel and as many layers as you can be bothered to do on the toe,” he said. “You have to develop your own patina.”

Gah! I had planned to wear them the next day, but he was right. The light coloured leather looked much rawer than the pictures on the website. The shoes, dare I say it, looked almost plastic coated. As regular readers know, I am relatively new to the higher end of the shoe market and these are the first pair of light-coloured leather shoes I have ever owned.

That evening, I sat down to listen to the Answer Me This podcast and cracked open my tin of dark tan Kiwi shoe polish. With a little bit of anxiety about my choice of colour, I started building up the layers of polish using the water in the tin lid technique.

And my use of that technique was put to the test on the lighter leather. I had to concentrate even more on the even distribution of polish. A couple of times I accidentally put too much on and I recoiled with horror as I thought I had ruined certain areas. But with patience, I corrected any mistakes with extra water or putting more polish elsewhere to even it up.

(I particularly struggled with the area at the top of the shoe, near the lacing. Perhaps the leather has been treated differently there? Or the grain is facing a different way? I’ll report back if this isn’t just a figment of my imagination.)

I spent a good 40 minutes or so on the toe alone and I lost count of the layers I put on. However, I am really pleased with the results. My ‘point-and-shoot’ camera doesn’t do them justice, but I did one shoe first so that you could see the before and after.

Before I forget, does any one have any tips on the thin area just at the bottom of the uppers? Where the shoe nips in and it is hard to get the sylvette in to polish properly? It isn’t that noticeable, but up close I have a thin strip of lighter leather running around the edge of the shoe and it is driving me mad! No one else will see it, but I know it’s there…

Last week I was inspired by a comment on this site to take the plunge and wear my new shoes (thanks Ian!). I have mentioned on here before that I am a nightmare when it comes to wearing footwear that I have just bought.

I am paranoid that I am going to damage them somehow and I have a deep fear of that first scratch or scuff. It is inevitable, but it ruins my day when it happens. So my rosso Diablo whole cuts have, apart from the occasional glance, been in their shoe bags since before Christmas.

To be fair, the weather in New York has been grim. Snow fell, melted a bit and was then topped up by more snow. This cycle seemed to go on forever. Sure, I could have worn my galoshes, but my anxious new-shoe brain would have probably gone into meltdown.

I then saw Ian’s comment. He was explaining how he has been wearing his whole cuts around the house for the past few weeks to help break them in. For the paranoid, that is a great idea. However, I live in a small studio. Instead, I looked out of the window to see blue sky and warm sunshine for the first time since I got here.

Ten minutes later and I was walking the 10 blocks to my subway station. I was on red alert for anything that could get near them. Barking dogs, playful children, old ladies in motability scooters – all were sworn enemies. Further anxiety was heaped on by the fact I was wearing a size 8.5.

I have always been a 9.5 or 10 guy in trainers. Maybe a 9 for certain Nikes. But I have never dipped into the 8 zone. That is reserved for my Dad’s generation, right? When picking up the shoes though, Nate and Clement were persuasive. I swallowed my pride and agreed with them.

You see, I have skinnier feet than your average. On the scanner, I am a 9E, but a 9F in Lodger’s English last does the trick. The Italian last is a little wider and the toe is less rounded and slightly longer. Also, the waist of the Italian shoes are not beveled like the English ones are, so a smaller size was needed to get the snug feeling I like around the middle of my foot.

And I was right to trust Nate and Clement’s opinion. The shoes are almost a perfect fit. My left little toe rubs slightly, but not enough to cause blisters. I’m confident that after a few wears the leather will mould itself around this slight problem. If not, then I will look into ways I can soften the leather in this one small area and report back.

Nothing can cure the paranoia though. Should they be bending there? Why is there a crease on that side and not the other? And you can guess what happened on my way home. I was so comfortable in my new shoes that I forgot they were new. I misjudged the last step in my building and scuffed the right toe. Ah well, at least it is done now. Now where is that polish…

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…)

Well, I’m less paranoid. And a lot braver with my cap toe Lodgers than I was a couple of months ago. My colleagues were incredulous when I told them that I didn’t take them to New York in September. Since then, they have been to Madrid, Alton Towers (kind of) and, finally, to the Big Apple.

On my third wear, I was terrified that the strip of leather on the bottom of the sole was peeling away at the toe. However, I have since learned that this was nothing to worry about. Apparently some people’s gait causes this to happen initially, but with more use the ridge would wear down and smooth out. This is exactly what happened.

I then got a slight scratch on the toe. That really annoyed me. But a couple of layers of polish and it is not noticeable to the naked eye. Unless you grab the shoe and examine it extremely closely, which I regularly do.

That said I am becoming more accustomed to the look of a ‘worn-in’ shoe. I am not suggesting that people should deliberately scuff up a brand new pair of shoes to make them look better, but there is an appeal to a looked-after shoe that creases in the right places, has been lovingly polished and whose comfort is immediately obvious.

More importantly, I have enjoyed the versatility of the shoes. In Madrid, I wore them with a navy suit with a thin pink and blue pinstripe. In Uttoxeter, I wore them with dark blue, pressed jeans. In New York, I wore them with a dark grey and blue checked suit.

None of these outfits cost a lot of money. Indeed I would almost be embarrassed to say where some of the clothes were bought. But the shoes made them work. In an excruciating exchange in a Manhattan elevator, I was complimented on my dress sense. This has never happened before and it must be down to the quality of the shoes.

In the past I think I have underestimated the value of shoes in making a first impression. Whether we think about it or not, when we meet new people we look them up and down. So it is important to make an impression where the eye slows down; at the top and at the bottom. Which reminds me, I really need to get a haircut. Not even the smartest shoes can distract from the curly mess I am sporting at the moment.

All in all, I am a lot more relaxed about wearing my new(ish) shoes.

Hang on a minute though… I’ve just noticed a gap in the heel stack that is on one shoe, but not the other.

And with that, the paranoia sets in again.

“New shoes there Nick?” On the morning of one of my best friends’ wedding last weekend, I was over the moon to be asked this question. Not because the shoes were new, but because they were not.

In fact, I have worn the black Oxfords in question regularly for almost a year. But with no suitable, newer shoes I decided to clean them thoroughly before the wedding. This gave me the perfect opportunity to try out the cream that I bought in New York last month and some saddle soap. I had used neither before.

Saddle soap comes in a tin similar to polish and is designed to keep the upper surface of the shoe supple. It contains fat which is absorbed into the uppers. As its name suggests, it was originally intended to be used on equestrian equipment, but many people have suggested using it on shoes. And applying it couldn’t be easier.

I left the shoe trees in as I cleaned to keep the leather taught. I then used a damp sponge to lift some of the saddle polish from the tin. After dipping the sponge into some water I then squeezed it to get a frothy lather. Finally, I then attacked the shoe aggressively with a liberally rubbing of the sponge on all areas of the upper, welt and sole.

Following the advice of a friend, I then left the lathered shoes to dry for 20 minutes or so before brushing away the (now slightly scummy) lather. I knew that saddle soap would thoroughly clean my shoes, but I was still surprised with the results. Apart from the odd crease owing to my gait, the shoes looked new, if a little matt and dull.

So the next day I polished my shoes with five layers of water and polish and two applications of cream early in the process. I was slightly concerned at the state of my life considering how long I had spent cleaning them. But my friend’s comment more than made up for it.