This is the best title ever.

If you want to spook a bootmaker, tell them that you broke their favourite awl.

So what right? Tools are just pieces of metal. If they’re broken, buy some new ones.

Well, this is not as easy as it seems. And here’s why.

My stitching awl.

This particular awl is square in cross section, transitioning to a flat tip. I’ve hacksmithed it (hack-ass blacksmithing) so that it has a slight curve at said tip.

It’s not just the shape of the awl that suits me, but also the dimensions. A 2mm x 2mm square cross section, with a total length of 110mm. It’s thin enough to slide through leather, yet thick enough to handle being pushed through a 5mm outsole.

And this is its primary purpose. Punching stitch holes through outsoles.

The dimensions of the awl tip is important; very much related to product design. Logically, if the tip is large, then the stitch hole made is also large.

It goes further. Stitch hole size also determines thread size.

If the hole is large and the thread is thin, it can look very out of place. Imagine your arm in the armhole of a t-shirt three sizes too large. Exactly that.

Anyway, usage aside, for this particular stitching awl, if I break it, I can’t just buy a new one.

Because of a) the amount of work I already put into modifying it; b) I’d already found a matching thread for the awl, and; c) I can’t actually remember where I bought the awl from.

This third point is a common problem to most bootmakers, and especially so for shoemaking, where even more handtools are used.

The majority of tools are vintage, or new-old stock. The manufacturer has usually shut shop decades ago. In effect, shoemaking tools are relics of a by-gone era, made by a toolmaker who is likely no longer alive.

You just can’t pop down to the hardware store and buy a new stitching awl.

My general purpose awl.

Yes, another awl. Each have very distinct use cases, dictating their size, shape and even metal composition.

That said, my general purpose awl is nothing special. It’s not a complex tool. It’s available easily online and only costs a few dollars.

Surprisingly, it’s also incredibly useful.

I use it mostly as a general poking tool in tight spaces. It’s 100mm long, with a circular cross section of around 5mm, narrowing down to an unsharpened, pointed tip of around 1mm.

Sometimes I use the awl for gluing instead of a brush. I’ll take the awl, poke the tip in the glue and push it into whatever crevice needs gluing.

Often, I drag the awl down a cut made with a knife, widening the cut to a stitching trench.

Or I just use it to hold down objects, poke leather when making a beveled waist, or scratching my back if I can’t reach.

General purpose awls are meant to be used and abused. So much so, that they end up with bent tips. Nothing that a little hacksmithing can’t solve though. Heat them up, bend them back into position and off we go again.

And when they eventually break, I’m sad, but at least I can buy a new one.

My awl handles.

I must have at least 30 different handles for awls.

You see, when awls are bought, it’s only the metal awl that’s purchased. The awl has to then be mounted into a handle by the user.

Seems like a bit of a faff, but handles are quite personal to whoever is using them. It impacts comfort, as well as how the awl can be used. For example, if the handle is too large, it can be difficult to get leverage at certain angles.

When such a large-handled awl is used at a particular angle, the handle may hit the boot. This is especially the case when outsole stitching on the medial side under the arch, whilst pushing downwards on the awl handle to get leverage in moving the awl tip.

However, if the handle were smaller (or conversely the awl itself were longer – thus locating the handle further back), then the usable angle of the awl usually increases.

I like awl handles made from maple, with a wide enough base to fit into my palm when pushing. At the head (where the awl is inserted), I like a tapered gourd shape. This gives me some place for my fingers to sit, whilst not being too thick, thus impacting the angle of entry.

Just like good awls, good handles are becoming increasingly difficult to find. Luckily though, they very rarely break.

My (other) stitching awl.

This one is different to the first stitching awl. Different awl, different purpose.

The first awl is used to punch stitch holes prior to stitching. This second awl is used to stitch thread with.

Typically, most people know the act of sewing as a single action.

That is, both punching the hole and sewing the thread through the material is done in a single action with a single tool. A needle with a hole at the end.

With leather, the stitching action is broken into two processes. First, punching the stitch holes, and second, stitching thread through the holes made prior.

This second type of stitching awl has a hook located just beneath the tip, which is used to stitch thread with. The presence of the hook weakens the tip of the awl, as it’s created by hollowing out the cross section of the tip. So if it were used to punch through outsole leather and stitch, it would just break.

This is the reason why the stitching action is broken into two processes, with two different tools.

There is a relationship between them though. The cross section of the first and second stitching awls should be similar (because the second awl needs to go through the hole the first awl made).

On top of this, the hook of the second stitching awl must be matched to the thread size. If it isn’t matched, the thread can’t be caught by the hook (because, the thread may be too thick to fit into the hook).

So you see now the symbiotic relationship between the first stitching awl, thread size and this second stitching awl.

If you change out one, usually the other two items need to be changed.

My lasting nails.

Nails in bootmaking are very specific. For lasting, I use copper plated Blackbird nails, 22mm in length, 1.1mm thick.

This gives the perfect mix of strength, flexibility and length. They need to be strong enough to take a hammer hit and not bend, but flexible enough to be pushed flat when I want them to be.

They also shouldn’t be so long that they get in the way or can’t fit under the hammer side of the lasting pliers either.

Sometimes nails are also used to hold the upper whilst pulling the lasting allowance under the last. In this case, they’re inserted inconspicuously through a stitch hole at the topline.

In these cases, a nail needs to be chosen that isn’t so wide to leave a visible hole, and if pushed flat onto the upper, doesn’t corrode and stain.

Nails, my friend, are not just nails.

My heel tacks.

Just like nails, heel tacks have similar properties to choose from. However, for tacks, the most important property is the length.

For lasting, I use 14mm steel tacks by Metallurgica Lombarda.

A 14mm length means that when driven in perfectly vertically, they nicely go through 2.5mm of upper, 1.5mm of lining and 5mm of insole, leaving 5mm of tack to protrude and clamp against the metal plate of the last.

In practice though, I drive my tacks in at an angle, which means only around 2-3mm remain to clamp over. Just nice. Any more than the tip of the tack, and the tack shaft will be too strong to fold over onto itself.

The diameter of the tack head is also important. Too small and it won’t hold down enough volume of leather, but too large means that there isn’t enough space between tacks for more tacks (in the midsoling process) to be inserted.

Good tacks are incredibly hard to find, especially the ones which have a very sharp tip. This is important because I want to stick the tip in and have it stand up by itself, rather than trying to hold it up whilst hitting it with a hammer.

In those cases, there’s a 50% chance of finger injury.

My inseaming awl.

When I’m doing an Outstation Custom Shop build or making boots for myself, I generally handwelt in some form or another.

So, this requires a different awl once more. An inseaming awl. Curvature and tip size is very important here.

It has to have the correct curve angle to go under the holdfast, but not come out too low (breaking through the footbed), or too high (punching out the top of the holdfast).

These problems are mitigated somewhat by choosing a ¼ or ½ curve for the inseaming awl, yet in practice a little hacksmithing is still required for the perfect awl curvature.

I’ll usually take a ¼ curve awl and then modify it according to a) how I position my awl arm, and; b) the general angle I insert the awl into the holdfast.

My hacksmithing is also a bit nerve wracking, because if done poorly, it actually reduces the life of tools. The metal can become brittle or end up not being able to be sharpened.

My inseaming awl is 115mm long, with a flat tip of 2mm width, also uniform along the awl shaft. The flat tip helps it fit under the roughly 3mm high holdfast. The awl width, just like the other awls, is matched to a thread size for stitching the welt and upper to the holdfast.

Compared to other types of shoemaking awls, inseaming awls are slightly easier to find. But only by a little.

Buy high, don’t die.

I remember many years ago, my Dad telling me ‘buy the highest quality tools you can afford. They’ll stay with you for life’.

And generally, outside of breaking them due to my own incompetence, I would agree with him.

At this point, my bench has now settled down to a combination of tools that I use daily, as well as a few specialized tools that are a pain in the ass to find when I need them on occasion.

I’m always fascinated looking at other Bootmaker’s benches, because they may have some tools that I don’t (tool envy is a thing). It’s also a telltale sign of how much machinery is still involved in their craft.

Because less tools usually equals more machines.

This has happened to me too. My rasp was replaced with a belt sander. My heat gun was replaced by a shoe oven. My G-clamps were replaced by a shoe press.

Queue the age old topic of what defines the word ‘handmade’.

My opinion on that, may shock you.