For the last five years I’ve been traveling from LA to Palo Alto in my work for the most exciting company in the world.  Hotels in Palo Alto are tough to come by, and expensive during Stanford basketball and football seasons, and in 2005, I was lucky enough to find 225 square foot “mother-in-law” unit in a great mid-century Eichler house in a cool tract of Eichler homes.  While my pad up north lacks a kitchen (I get by with a mini-fridge and microwave), I’ve come to realize that less can really be more, and super livable.  When Manhattan Beach became “disco” in the old New Economy, and charming beach cottages made way for lot to lot McMansions, my disdain for large and overbuilt increased like beach front square footage, and had me thinking about what you really need if you live in a place you really love.

I’m renovating a 1920s beach bungalow with these thoughts in mind—more on that in another post—, but I’ve tried to take the concept of physical domicile downsizing to heart in many ways.  I’m far from austere and my posts on the love of things tells that my soul is one of a collector.  But what separates a collector from a hoarder is curating.  And besides, editing is good for the soul.

I’ve been lucky enough to deal with Japanese uber-collectors of midcentury modern furniture and vintage workwear.  While acquisitive to be sure, their collecting style is a highly edited one, dictated by urban space constraints of home and closet.  Rather than owning four mediocre pairs of vintage denim, or multiple variations of the Eames shell chair, Japanese collectors search for the best examples, and stretch for that one great piece.  It’s hard for a hunter/gatherer like me to say this, but I see the wisdom in their ways, and am taking it to heart.

I’ve always over-indulged—or been sloppy with—my choice of luggage.  I always go for the best stuff (i.e. Filson), but I go large. Too large.  Same with the Dopp kit I lugged around—it was so big, it would only leave my bathroom counter as I headed outta town.  This is unnecessary.  While carry-on luggage is the badge of honor of road warriors, I’ve never lost a piece of super-sized rolling luggage that I’ve always been proud to check.

But last month I took a different tack.  I’ve always been intrigued by aluminum luggage, and went through the Zero Haliburton phase, when Sonny Crockett was chasing Colombians through the streets of Miami with Haliburton cases, chock o’ block with blow, and cash.  The real deal isn’t the American-made stuff, but Germany’s finest—Rimowa.  Created for trips to the tropics, the water- and humidity-proof Rimowa was adopted by Japanese jetsetters who prefer their pieces beat up, true to the Rimowa tagline that “every piece tells a story.”  There’s even vintage, tag-covered piece on display high above the new pieces at Rimowa’s outpost on Kalakaua Avenue in Waikiki.

To do this right, I bought the 22” carry-on Rimowa from Tom Park at Leather Soul Hawaii , and I’m amazed how much I can fit inside.  The luxury of packing multiple pairs of shoes is gone, but editing my travel needs is cool.  My new smaller case called for a smaller Dopp kit as well, in effect downsizing from a desktop to a netbook.  I discovered the GoToob travel containers, and am “rolling my own” , packaging my favorite smell goods and Kiehl’s products.  I picked a tiny Eagle River waterproof bag to put it all in, and instead of using one set of toiletries at home and away, “mini-me” stays in the Rimowa between trips.

While this may not seem like a big deal, and my partners in crime have always “carried on,” this is pretty new to me, and I like it.

It’s a good meditation on how I want to live my life, focusing on the stuff—literal and figurative—that matter and make the important things easier to achieve.

Much has been written and blogged about shell cordovan leather—the ultra durable, beautifully hand-crafted, and mostly-tanned-in-America horse hide. A preppy/trad favorite since Brooks Brothers began stocking Alden shoe examples in the ’60s. Named for the shell-shaped hides that come from the rump of a horse, shell takes on a beautiful character through use — think of how dry denim, starting with the early Levi’s 501 shrink-to-fits of my youth and modern examples from R by 45rpm and Sugarcane take your personal imprint. Only shell does it through wear, not washing.

Like most things sartorial, my first introduction to shell cordovan was through my father. Alden shell cordovan saddle shoes matched up with odd blazers from Brooks and Alden plain toe bluchers, also from Brooks, were the shoe of choice with tan suits, gabardine in fall, and cotton poplin in summer. My college salesman days at Westwood’s preppy ground zero, At Ease, put me in touch with Alden shell cordovan on a daily basis. Too expensive for a student budget, we searched Bass Weejun boxes for inexpensive calf skin penny loafers, whose dye most closely matched the unattainable color of Horween leathers shell cordovan color #8, the traditional Alden/Brooks colorway. But, shell cordovan isn’t just about color, it’s about that magical fingerprint that each owner’s polishing and footprint make on each shoe or accessory.

This magic comes through the lengthy tanning process (see this amazing video here) in which shells are impregnated with natural oils that create a one of a kind creasing and a rubbery “hand” that immediately sets shell apart from any other leather. Polishing techniques for shell are as varied as the aficionados who love the skin, but a key success factor — like  most things in life — is that less is more. Polish less frequently—once or twice a year — , use less polish, and brush them occasionally.

But, it’s not just about shoes, it’s about amazing accessories, that take on that delicious rubbery feel. Nick Gabarro of Gabarro Straps–sorry, to the trade only — is known worldwide for his special shell cordovan watch straps that are the bands of choice for enthusiasts and serious collectors like John Mayer, who finds Nick’s pieces at the IWJG watch shows in NY and Las Vegas. Nick also is responsible for the small leather goods now available at Brooks Brothers, and I saw an amazing shell toiletry kit at the NYC Alden store on Madison Avenue. While shell is most seen in the burgundy #8, Nick’s bands and accessories in the brown tones of Whiskey and Cigar are beautiful. I was lucky enough to score a jade green shell cordovan band from Nick at last month’s IWJG show. Alden can be coaxed to make up special order shoes in these less seen colors, and Honolulu-based shoe guru, Tom Park, at Leather Soul Hawaii, has done an amazing job of sourcing the iconic Alden saddle shoes, Indy boots (the kind that Harrison Ford sported in the Indiana Jones films), as well as Chukkas.

The much appreciated, current fascination with all things made in America has shined a light on shell cordovan, and Horween’s Chicago home. But, it was the Japanese love of the hide that brought forth some amazing shoes and products. And while Horween is the gold standard, there is a Tokyo-based tannery apparently turning out decent shell cordovan. On trips to Tokyo years ago, the displays of unique to Japan Aldens, small leather goods and belts, inspired my renewed interest in shell cordovan. Beams in Harajuku always features shell cordovan shoes and accessories.

My personal obsession with shell cordovan isn’t just about shoes. I wear a shell cordovan bracelet daily, carry a shell cordovan glass case, and have an indestructible Gabarro NATO-style shell cordovan strap on a watch that I wear surfing (it only gets better looking, the more it gets wet). My shoe collection includes some of my pairs from At Ease in the early ‘80s, and my original pair of Brooks Brothers, unlined penny loafers, in #8 from the same era. While Alden offers a very reasonably priced restoration service, I haven’t had to use it, but I have seen the results–very impressive. Others include traditional examples of long-wing wingtips in black and #8, Chukkas in cigar, loafers in black and whiskey. And #8 plain-toe bluchers like my dad’s. Ralph Lauren also offers Northampton, England-sourced examples from Crockett and Jones in an amazing rich brown, somewhere between whiskey and cigar. Master shoemaker Silvano Lattanzi is known for his bespoke, fully handmade derbys and bluchers that’ll set you back well into four figures.

I’m not there… yet.