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Perfect in Form
Column
Perfect in Form
Mr. Bootblack is a philosopher with distinct views of his own. He earns a living cleaning shoes. Once every two weeks he writes an article about footwear for GDS – and about the wearers.
“The ace of spades,” says the drummer as always, “Bootblack, give me the ace of spades!” I pick out the ace of spades from my deck of playing cards and first slide it sideways into his shoe (we bootblacks use playing cards to protect customers’ socks from the shoe polish. Three or four cards per leg). But the drummer is my only customer with a favourite card. Maybe he’s a superstitious player.
We’re in the middle of a heat wave. Summers in New York can be murderous. Mind you, what isn’t murderous in this city? Heat accumulates between all the concrete, sometimes up to 45 degrees and if I didn’t always have my father’s voice in my head I would probably also run around the city like those young men wearing what looks like beachwear. But there’s no remedy for a good upbringing.
Even bankers secretly wear short-sleeved shirts under their jackets in summer when the thermometer climbs above 35 degrees Celsius. And it’s probably better that way. I see that, even if I don’t do it myself. I have my father’s voice in my head and I have a business to run here, even if it does only consist of a box, a chair and a stool. I just can’t slip out of my own skin or my own shirt or whatever. And obviously, I hold little store by flip-flops and sandals. After all, I make a living from people wearing closed-in shoes, even though they might be woven or have little holes in them. Let’s not forget: those now purely decorative holes on Brogues were originally used as aeration vents.
In actual fact, I have the highest respect for the drummer, one of my favourite customers. In all weathers he goes around the city dressed as a complete gentleman even though he doesn’t have to. I just call him drummer here because he might be recognised if I said his name. He must be very famous in certain circles as he plays percussion in a band that plays to large audiences all over the world. I can’t say much about his music although he did once bring me a CD. It was faulty and I didn’t have the heart to tell him. On the CD were just noises that sounded like one of those electric polishing machines you find next to hotel lift doors being destroyed by a jackhammer. You could also hear a worker shouting. So I only know the drummer as a customer because he loves shoes. He has many beautiful pairs just like he has many beautiful suits. “In my free time I want to be dressed properly,” he once said to me when I asked him if he had a concert today – he looked really perfect. “I never look like this on stage. Think of the card …,” he said adding in a kind of sing-song voice “… the ace of spades, the ace of spades!” A remarkable man.
