You Have to Have Sole

I have something of a fondness for good shoes.

I make no apology for this. It is a harmless affectation and I comfort myself that I am helping to keep the artisans of Northampton in gainful employment and out of the grog shop. Furthermore, if a single soul decides, on noting my highly-polished brogues, that perhaps trainers, or nubuck slip-ons, are not the apogee of the cobbler's art, then I have done some good in a wicked world.

I would be the first to admit that my tastes are highly conservative. The plain black Oxford, the full or half brogue, the chukka and chelsea boot, these are my stock in trade for town wear. I scorn like poison the slip-on shoe. Unlike Continental and American aficionados, I cannot bear the loafer (an innocuous shoe that, I accept, ill-deserves my spleen). I am vicious in my condemnation of the monk. I swoon at unconventional colours (vide my post on metallic co-respondent shoes).

But I am not an absolute reactionary. I accept (whilst considering them to be dangerously bohemian) reversed calf brogues. I am completely at peace with the reversed calf chelsea boot. I sport co-respondent shoes in summer with aplomb and pleasure. I possess a pair of brown waxed calf chukka boots ( am wearing them as I type) which have been with me across the Atacama desert and have proved to combine ruggedness and utility with panache. And, as I have remarked before, I am completely at ease with rubber soles for boots and brogues.

But not just any sole. Oh Lord no.

Had you seen me picking my way through ice and snow over the past week, you might have noted that whilst I was dressed in what was (for me) an unusually utilitarian manner, favouring corduroys and a somewhat shabby insulated waterproof jacket normally worn only in the country, my feet were clad in Crockett and Jones "Pembroke" brogues of exquisite lustre. Why, you might have wondered, does this cove not wear wellingtons, walking boots or trainers, like almost everyone else? The answer, gentle reader, is that the Pembroke surpasses them in style, comfort, and utility.

For in addition to stout construction of most excellent calf, the Pembroke rests upon a rubber sole. But not just any old rubber: the Pembroke utilises the might "Dainite" sole - a slab of wondrous material embossed with cunningly-wrought circular studs. The material is hard, but not too hard. It seems to have adhesive quality similar to a crepe sole, but the edges cut into snow, enhancing traction. The studs grip ice and somehow seem to allow for better grip on wet surfaces. No doubt the pipe-smoking, tweed-clad Dainite boffins, working in their dusty laboratory in Market Harborough, could explain the complex molecular physics involved. But the point is, on icy pavement the soles grip better than Vibram-soled climbing boots. I know because I wore the latter earlier in the week. So, when next you are in need of winter footwear, my advice to you is to go forth into the world and seek out Dainite. Nay, do more than that. Demand it.

I'm not claiming you could climb Everest in them. But if you had to do so in brogues, then Dainite soles would be my choice.