The Sole of Quirkiness

Size matters to men. It’s a topic of locker room chitchat (reportedly, of course). And it’s introduced unabashedly in a plaintive declaration on this rainy Saturday evening inside Meow, a vintage dreamporium in Long Beach.

“You’re bigger than I am,” blurts out the young man in the neat, inky black pomp.

Josh Ellman--the object of his envy--is standing in the middle of a gaggle of guys, his black stockinged right foot planted on an oversized sketch pad. Embarrassed--or silently pleased--Ellman, a Hollywood promoter of jazz and blues records, self-consciously takes a swig of the Rolling Rock he’s been nursing. A pair of women who’ve just popped in giggle at the spectacle.

His size 9 1/2 foot is the focus until the man crouched on the floor with the measuring tape poses the toughest question of the night. “Which one is it going to be?”

Footwear designer George Esquivel, 27, accepts the difficulty of his request as a great compliment to the custom shoes he produces under the label, Joe’s Garb.

In showcases like the one recently at Meow, he pitches his 2-year-old shoe collection in a manner as quirky and retro as its made-to-order models. The sales events are part trunk show, part Tupperware party.

In lieu of plastic bowls, there are snakeskin wingtips and red patent lace-ups; chilled brewskis replace the punch. And instead of earnest, thrift-conscious homemakers, Esquivel’s customers are musicians, club cognoscenti and other style-savvy young men prepared to spend more than $200 for a set of soles crafted to their personal specifications.

Stray Cat-turned-big-band-leader Brian Setzer owns four pairs. All the members of No Doubt have ordered their own. MTV favorites 311 bought a dozen. And the Reverend Horton Heat bid on two pairs, while the rest of the band settled for a single pair each.

Jason Smith, the 27-year-old owner of a vintage furniture store, arrived at the Meow shoe party wearing a red and gray Tiki-patterned shift and the white leather lace-ups with black patent flames that he’d commissioned at a previous party. He fits in among the merchandise in this shop, which heaves with vintage dead stock and lights up like a neon ‘50s fantasy. “I chose this style because I figured I’m guaranteed that anywhere I go I’ll be the only guy wearing a pair.”

His friend volunteers another reason: “Chicks dig it.”

So much so, in fact, that several women have ordered the masculine shoes for themselves, says Esquivel. He plans to offer up more feminine models within the year using the creative input of Meow owners Kathleen Schaaf and Tamara MacFarlane.

For now, Joe’s Garb is turned out by Esquivel’s younger brother Ricardo, 20, and Emiglio Canales, the fiftysomething Huntington Park cobbler who, along with his small staff, translates the designer’s vision into leather. Almost as impressive to the shoe party guys as Canales’ craftsmanship is the factoid that he used to stitch up Evel Knievel’s boots.

Canales was the final stop in a lengthy search from Mexico to Los Angeles that Esquivel embarked on when he decided in 1995 to step into footwear. The absence of any formal training as a shoemaker didn’t keep him from his destiny.

“I figured if I like what I came up with, then maybe others would too,” says Esquivel. Aside from the custom orders, ready-made stock of Joe’s Garb are available at Meow, Ultra Lux in West Los Angeles, Electric Chair in Huntington Beach, and Shoe Zoo Too in San Clemente. The shoes arrive at American Rag in January.

The “garb” in the label name refers to the shirts Esquivel also makes, as well as the occasional special item. There’s the gray “Western-Hollywood” jacket he’s wearing tonight, trimmed in curling satin piping and metal buttons shaped as cow heads. He chose the name “Joe” instead of his own name because he figured it played off “regular joes” and the fact that the people who buy these are not your regular joes.

Nor is there anything regular about his shoes. The twist is in punking up a conventional wingtip, breaking expectations of what a men’s shoe should look like. “I don’t care to make exact replicas of old styles, although I can,” says Esquivel. Waiting for his customer to decide what he wants, Esquivel twirls a ring of 30 leather swatches like a Hula-Hoop around his index finger.

Finally, Ellman speaks. He’s decided on a thick crepe-soled, two-tone combination with shiny black cap toe and white leather mesh inset. The detail de resistance: cut-outs of a suit of playing cards in red patent.

Ellman is no stranger to custom gear; he started his tailored suit habit as a mod more than a decade ago. Now custom shoes have him hooked. “Shoes,” he swoons, “are the ultimate accessory. Anyone can go to the store and buy some shoe everyone else owns. But you can’t find something that way that’s going to be perfect--not if you have style.”