Who should be your man in Florence?

A: The Cobbler. Always the cobbler.

It started with Daniel’s sole.

His shoe was falling apart. Kids shoes are expensive and hard enough to buy at home, and we couldn’t face the possibility of figuring out sizes and brands in Italy (although he might have ended up with some gorgeous captoe oxfords, or perhaps some simple monk straps). I kept putting off the repair, and they kept floppin…