It’s longer than you think.
Since my sewing machine is still waiting for parts, I’ve been filling my time with other work in the business. Product development.
For those who’ve been following along so far, my sewing machine handwheel has been shipped from the manufacturer. So that’s good news. I guess it’s currently somewhere in the middle of the South China Sea.
Anyway. Many people don’t quite understand the effort that it takes to design a product before launching it to market. It’s not simply a case of slap something together and go. Well, not to me at least.
Don’t get me started on what people assume about designing boots. That I can easily make unique boot patterns for them. At a low price of course.
Like it all just magically appears out of thin air.
t-9 months out, the process starts.
That’s right. 9 months before a new model is released, I’m already starting the product development in my head. Thinking, testing ideas and debating with myself.
Most importantly, I don’t rush this thought process. I’ve realised over time that creativity comes when it comes.
So I give myself one to three months, letting my ideas percolate, and at a certain point, I’ll know I’m ready to put the proverbial pen to paper.
There are many angles of thought running through my mind during the ideation period, and they all impact each other. This means I need to think about them simultaneously, rather than as separate topics.
Use case.
What is use case of the boot? Who is the profile that would want it? Who is the profile that would wear it?
Note. Want and wear are sometimes two different people. Both are potential customers.
These type of questions help me categorise the boot. Ultimately it influences which product line it belongs to, which decides the last used and chassis that it’s built on.
I like to refer to the chassis as anything from the midsole down. To me, it’s the equivalent of the engine, wheels and undercarriage of a car. It gets everything above it from A to B.
And what’s above the chassis of a car? The outer shell. Or on a boot, the upper.
My own terminology aside, if the new boot doesn’t fit into an existing line, then the product will be the first in a new line of boots.
In that case, it’s here that I start sourcing and ordering sample lasts. Because each line of boots has its own unique last.
Design language.
The design language is somewhat set based on the boot line. For example, the Frontier line is old-school heritage inspired. Everyday line is more casual wear. Ambassador line will be more formal.
That being said, within a line of boots, thinking about design language opens questions about what type of boot the new product will be. Low cut? High cut? Laceless? Derby or Oxford?
It ties back to the use case somewhat, but now within a more constrained set of parameters.
Aesthetic.
Along with the use case, lineup positioning and basic design language, I also think about aesthetics. Does it need to look fancy? Clean? What does the panel positioning convey about the boot?
Often I’ll already be in Illustrator at this point, doing basic patternmaking to see how curves flow through the design. Translating from what’s in my mind onto paper.
Product gaps.
Whilst all this is happening, I think about why I’m actually designing the boot. Sometimes I’m just inspired to do so, other times there’s a need to fill a product gap.
The Chelsea in the Frontier line, Jesselton, was exactly this. In Asia, laceless footwear is the most common type of footwear. It’s a shoes off culture in homes, religious institutions and many businesses.
Product gaps are often found through customer feedback. Jesselton again, was this product. People had been asking for it since day 1.
At t-7 months, patternmaking begins.
This is where I now sit in front of my PC and start refining the baseline design that I’d been tinkering with. It usually takes a week.
I generally don’t use a mean forme approach for my patternmaking. If the new boot is part of an existing boot line, I shortcut the process by taking a production pattern and modifying it.
I’ll then print it out, make a paper upper and test it on the last. I call this entire process, paper patterning.
If I’m working with a new last, I still don’t use a mean forme. I’ll find a similar production pattern from a similar last and go through the same process.
Once the paper upper is on the last, if I see that it isn’t sitting well, I’ll modify it by cutting wedges, lengthening or shortening the various pattern pieces.
What this means is that my patterns are never symmetric. I try to get best fit to the last through patternmaking, rather than relying on leather stretch during the lasting process.
There are pros and cons of various patternmaking approaches, but for brevity’s sake, I’ll leave it here for now.
A shitload of iteration.
Depending on how far off my initial patternmaking was, I can iterate five to six times until I’m happy with how the paper upper fits.
I’ve had times where my design lines change completely during the process, just based on how I’m feeling. Or, it can be because I didn’t take into account the sewing process of the pattern when designing it.
What I mean by this is when designing a pattern visually, it’s easy to forget that someone needs to manufacture it at some point (that someone is me).
If this isn’t taken into account, it’s easy to design something that isn’t possible to be sewn smoothly due to seam placement, how the individual pattern pieces overlap, or the available sewing angles on the postbed machine.
It’s like the architect that designs a beautiful concept building. After giving said design to the engineer, the commented file comes back:
‘We can’t build that because you’ve broken the laws of physics’.
I always test my paper uppers with the leather insole attached to the last, because this additional volume can significantly change the aesthetic of the design.
Pattern testing with real materials can begin.
Once I’m satisfied with the paper upper fit, I’ll test the pattern using scrap leather similar in characteristic to planned production leather.
To do this means that over the last months, I’d also been going through the sourcing process for leather, and had decided on a type by now. By type, I mean temper and thickness. Colour or leather style isn’t important at this point.
So already you can see, there are multiple workstreams running in parallel during the design process. And all related somehow.
Anyway. After testing the upper with leather, there are some common adjustments. Normally they’re around the topline to account for stretch. So often I spring the quarters or pull the heel curve forward to reduce the topline length.
Colourways aren’t just colourways.
The leather colours that I offer with a boot come from the initial ideation stages. Just like the leather type, it’s a function of where the boot sits in the product lineup.
So around halfway through my patternmaking process I begin to lock down colourways for the leather type I’d chosen, ordering samples to check colour in person.
The first build begins at t-5 months.
The first full build is always nerve wracking. I make it in a EUR size 43, because that’s always what my master pattern is based on. It’s my size.
By the first build, I’ll already have a half hide of one colourway, having decided it based on samples received. I use this production spec leather for the upper and build it out fully with the appropriate chassis.
Essentially, it’s made as it would be for an end customer.
When I’m building, I’m taking note of any design lines that still need to be modified. More importantly, there can be other adjustments that have to made, because I’m now using heel counters, lining and other components.
I try to capture these intricacies in the patternmaking process, but there are always some unexpected surprises.
When the build is done, I have to be happy with it.
If I don’t have a 100% satisfied feeling, I know that I have to go back to the drawing board. It’s such a pain in the ass when this happens.
A good example of this was the planned vamp pulltab on the Jesselton Chelsea. I’d written about this frustration in another Journal entry.
Nonetheless, to shortcut that story, I completed four full builds before I was completely satisfied. Ironically in the end, the vamp pulltab didn’t even make the cut.
Weartesting is usually quite straightforward.
With the first full build complete, the weartesting process can now begin.
I notice how the boot feels on the foot, particularly focusing on the upper. Where are the stress points? Where is it flexing? Where is it getting touched? Are there any possible points of failure?
The chassis of the boot is usually more straightforward, as there are only so many ways to build it out. Only if I’m introducing new materials to it do I pay careful attention during weartesting.
Only then, does the name comes into the picture.
At the point of satisfaction, I sit back and look at the new boot over a week or so. On and off is key to keeping the eyes fresh.
Then the name brainstorming takes place. Based on what fits the product line, look of the boot and general vibes, it’s a simple process of elimination. A bit of help from AI gives me a list to narrow down, eventually ending up with two names.
Sleep on it a few days and the one that still remains in my head is the winner.
t-3 ramps up to production.
If the boot is the first in a new line of boots, I’ll now order the full size range of lasts. They usually take around one month to be manufactured and shipped in.
The remaining colourways of leather also arrive at this point. I would have decided on these from the samples received earlier, usually taking place as I’m doing the first build.
Grading is now performed.
My master size 43 pattern is given as a basis and I receive the remaining sizes 36-48. It takes a week or so to grade, and another week or so for me to randomly paper test the graded sizes on the lasts.
I do this to make sure that the overall grading is accurate for my last and that I’m satisfied with the way individual pattern pieces were graded.
Sometimes there are problems which stretch out the grading process to three or four weeks. Again, another full journal entry could be written on this.
t-2 making test boots.
Now I sit down and work like a dog.
I make the twelve remaining pairs of boots to complete the full size range. It usually takes six to eight weeks, whilst trying to balance any customer orders in queue.
I make the test boots in launch colourways. Everything is production spec.
I can usually make ten pairs of boots per month if I push myself hard. But to do that continuously isn’t healthy. It really burns me out physically.
It’s finally launch day, t-0.
Done.
It doesn’t happen by magic. It’s a long slog that needs to be attacked like a marathon, step by step.
Immediately post launch, a social media push begins. Normally I’d be working on this over the last few months prior to launch.
At t-0, all content is ready, ads posted and various lead activity can begin.
Product development is high risk fun.
What people don’t realise is that I have to really nail my product launches.
Product development takes such a long time and is so labour intensive that if a model flops, nine months of work just goes down the drain.
Despite the risk, product development is what I enjoy most in the business. Far more than the bootmaking itself actually.
I think it’s to do with the creativity; I enjoy finding how far my mind can stretch without a boundary, and then later, what solutions I create to achieve my desired outcome within a real world set of parameters.
To me, bootmaking (i.e. the physical building of the boot) is different. There’s limited room for creativity in an established process, already achieving a satisfactory result.
Bluntly put. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
Anyway. My point is, I hope this journal entry shines light into the amount of effort that goes into creating a new product, at a certain price point, with a certain quality.
And I hope that people can now understand why, if you come and ask for a custom designed boot, you will get charged a very high price.
Designing a boot for one person means that the product development cost is allocated to one pair of boots. Yours. The cost doesn’t get spread over 10’s or 100’s of customers as with a general release model.
Granted, designing a single pair of boots doesn’t need nine months of development, but the time cost is still high.
Oh. And if you ask for a custom designed boot on a customed designed last, you’d better take out a second mortgage first.
