As I wandered around Stockholm in a jetlagged haze, I managed to throw open the door on a remarkable little shoestore. Skoaktiebolaget can’t be more than a couple hundred square feet, but the walls are lined with leather treasures.
The shop carries the absolute best in men’s shoes, from the reasonably priced Carmina to the astronomically priced (and astronomically beautiful) St. Crispin’s. The patient man at the counter was unbothered by my browsing, and indeed was notably friendly, a pleasant change of pace in such a high-end shop. The store does a brisk online business, as well, and takes care of the shoes they sell – a man was bringing his in for what sounded like new heels.
Shops like this one aren’t usually on my shopping itinerary – I feel like I’m taunting myself – but Skoaktiebolaget was particularly unpretentious and lovely. If only I could spell the name. Or pronounce it. Or remember it. Or…
