Sunhouse Goods Model 0

This contest made a cordwainer out of me. Last year, the dome put good boots on my radar in the first place. I’d been leatherworking full-time for two years, had fully dedicated my life to craft, and was an avid Blundstone wearer. That was when one of my customers showed me his pair of Benzein side-zips in crust horserump. They were gorgeous. Too gorgeous. Ever since I picked up my first pricking iron, I’d been tremendously fascinated by patina, and seeing it on a pair of shoes (this guy was on month five or so) scratched an itch in my brain that I didn’t know I had. My first thought was: I think I recognize that leather! My second was: oh, shit, I can probably make a pair of boots in time for next year’s dome! Which is exactly what I did. I would never have been able to pull it off without the exceedingly generous support and guidance of a certain cobbler (Tobias Crislip, of Wyatt & Dad), who, against his better judgement, allowed me to colonize a corner of his Durham shop so that we could spy on each other and exchange techniques. A few months and scrapped test pairs later, I completed my dome boots. And what stout boots they are! They have served me incredibly well through six months of pounding pavement and sewing machine pedals. The Maryam TPR horsebutt has creased, darkened, and burnished generously - the differences in the crease patterns on each vamp are very stark, as I selected the breech (cordovan membrane) portion for one vamp, and the looser grain area of the hide for the other. I know that this might dock me some points in the final accounting of the Thunderdome, but I refuse to apologize for being a man of science. As much as I love the boots, though, I find myself treasuring ever more the externalities of this whole song and dance - finding new community, the transfer of techniques within the cobbler shop, and discovering the cordwainer within. I guess what I’m trying to say is, maybe the real patina was the friends we made along the way?