Anthony Delos

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. This definition, often attributed to Albert Einstein seems to me a little too narrow. 

For example, if you asked my parents in 2011, insanity was their student son, pouring his savings into getting a pair of bespoke shoes (bespeaking a pair of shoes ?).

I tried in vain to explain that these were not mere shoes but a pair of balmoral oxford with a perforated cap toe, brogueing, a slightly cuban heel, bevelled waist, two dog-tails and exquisite swan neck stitching. I thought an argument from authority would help, but even as I mentioned the name of Anthony Delos, the look in my parents’ eyes remained incomprehensible and worried. Was their son lost? (Spoiler alert: yes)

At that time, Anthony Delos’ fame was higher than ever. After a comprehensive training all over France with the « compagnons du devoir », and several years in the bespoke workshop of John Lobb Paris, Anthony settled in 2004 his first workshop in Montmartre. In a few years, he built a solid reputation among a local and international clientèle of boot-making aficionados and other hand-welting fetishists. 

For the very few among our dearest readers who have not yet had the chance of getting a pair of bespoke shoes done, the whole process takes place in several meetings, separated by a few months each, or more depending on the artisan and his or her bandwidth (airquoting that last word).

At the time of our first meeting, Anthony and his team had already moved to a workshop located in a little town called les Rosiers-sur-Loire and the client meetings were taking place in a showroom in Paris. A first meeting is the chance to get to know each other, to agree on a shoe model and a last shape, details can be fixed later on. Of course, the first meeting does not end before the measurement ceremony. 

I arrived with a couple of pattern ideas, some of which were maybe too extravagant. Anthony guided me with patience and kindness. Once the pattern, leather and sole sewing determined, Anthony drew his measuring tape, pencil and started cooking. Knowing I would have to take off my shoes, I took an even greater care in picking my socks that morning.

After a couple of months, came the first fitting. I could not find any photo from that day (although I remember posting some on facebook at the time), but imagine a pair of cork soled trial shoes sliced open to ensure a proper fit.

Another few months and came the day before my birthday. It was also the date on which Anthony delivered the final shoes. After untying the strings of the white dust bags, I could only witness the skills and craftsmanship that made Anthony’s fame. An impeccable work of surgical precision. I slid in the shoes and the fit was like nothing I had ever felt before: the shoes offered a surprisingly stiff support, and yet remarkably flexible where they had to allow the walking feet to bend.

It is difficult to explain how I felt at that time, and I probably did not express it much back then either. In a movie, this is where they show you slow motion close ups, over an air from Lakme (you know this opera song). I was probably hearing the song in my head. I must admit that the news that Anthony had recently won the title of “Meilleur Ouvrier de France” (a competition honoring French craftspersons) got the better of my patience.  

After this short moment out of time, I went back to my life. One last internship, one last exam, first job interview, second job interview… My pair of Delos accompanied me along each milestone. Sun or rain. Mindless flaneries on the cobblestones of Paris or morning sprints in the subway escalators. Summer aperitivo on the Seine’s banks or end of year work review. 

Of course, life does not go on without a little scratch every now and then. Thankfully, nothing that a good brush and polish cannot fade into the leather patina that time gives to fine shoes and people who wear them.

In an attempt to justify their vice, shoes enthusiast tell themselves many lies. One of them is that a properly cared after pair of shoes can easily last a decade or a lifetime. This is especially true whit a shoe closet so full that rotation goes at the slowest pace. However, even the best shoes will occasionally need a sole replacement. In our case, I chose not to cover the sole’s leather with rubber protections, and the need for a new sole became obvious in 2018. Less than 10 years, but still an honorable performance. 

Of course, it is best not to give bespoke shoes to be refurbished to anyone. After a few hesitation and a lot of procrastination, I got in touch with Anthony last year. He confirmed that, despite having joined Berluti’s bespoke operation with his team in 2012, his workshop in Les Rosiers can still work on old Delos shoes. This was great news because, not only the shoes would be refurbished by the same skilled hands that birthed them, but the upper would be lasted on their original lasts, allowing them to regain their former shape of 2011 (if only it could be that easy for everyone…).

I will let you judge based on the photos (no, they were not taken yesterday, sorry but I’ve been busy!), but I find the oxfords to look better than new!

Now, I would not be fully honest with you if I did not share the sour epilogue of that sweet story. After a painful day, I had to admit that my feet had changed too much over the last twelve or so years for the most beautiful shoes I ever wore to fit me anymore. I know: better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Besides, that makes a great excuse to buy new shoes, but that is a story for another article.