Japanese Personal Chopsticks – In Sterling Silver!

I love silverware. There, I said it. I love the colour, the history behind pieces of wrought silver, and the limitlessness of the vast array of items which can be made out of silver. One thing I’ve always wanted is a pair of silver chopsticks!

After hunting and digging around on eBay for literally months, and using every combination of words that I could possibly conjure, I finally settled on a pair of silver chopsticks which were affordable, in great condition, which were marked, and which would be easy to use, and maintain.

The chopsticks I bought are Japanese in style, and they showed up in a nice, wooden presentation box, where they can be stored when they’re not on active duty as waistline-enhancement devices. All in all, a pretty nifty package.

The History of Silver Chopsticks

Silver chopsticks have existed for centuries, throughout Asia – mainly in the three major chopstick-using countries – China, Korea, and Japan. Just like silver cutlery in Western countries, the purpose of silver chopsticks was much the same – they were a status-symbol, a store of wealth, and a source of familial pride.

The tale is often told that silver chopsticks were favoured by the great emperors of China and Japan in ancient times, because eating with silver chopsticks would tell the emperor if his food had been poisoned. Supposedly, the poison would turn the silver black! – and this would be a sure sign that the food was tainted, and deadly!

Right?

No.


Actually, loads of things turn silver black – eggs, meat, spicy foods…basically anything which might have high levels of sulfur in it. It doesn’t mean that the food is poisonous – it just means that the silver has been tarnished by a chemical reaction – not that anybody in Ancient China would’ve understood what that was. It’s the sulfur dioxide, and the acids, in various foods (for example, lemon juice, salt, etc) which causes silver to turn black and discolour. Poison has nothing to do with it.

I want my own Set of Silver Chopsticks! Where do I get them?

Antique silver chopsticks can be found, if you’re patient enough, but you can also buy modern sliver chopsticks! Yes, silver chopsticks are still made today (try eBay, if you want to find a set), but beware of fakes!

As a general rule – never buy silverware (chopsticks, or otherwise) which is not hallmarked! Especially from online sources, like eBay. One of the main reasons for collecting silverware, now, as it was in centuries past – was to act as a store of wealth. That wealth doesn’t exist if the silver isn’t real! And in most cases, your word that the silver is real, isn’t going to convince most people – so why should you take the word of somebody else, that the silver they’re trying to sell you, is real, if they can’t independently prove it, by showing the hallmarks? Always remember this when buying silverware, especially from some Asian countries, where hallmarking is less stringent than it is in say, North America, and in Europe.

After all – that is the whole point of hallmarks – proving that silver is real. Believe it or not, but hallmarks on gold and silver are the oldest surviving form of customer-protection IN THE WORLD – and date back literally 1,000+ years, all the way to the Byzantine Empire of the 5th century!

“SILVER 925”, or 92.5% silver by purity. AKA – Sterling Silver.

I bought these chopsticks because they were clearly marked “SILVER 925” on the shafts. Without that – I wouldn’t have bothered. There are loads of sellers out there with “silver” chopsticks assuring you that they are silver, but until you get them tested, you only have their word for it. And sorry, but a person’s word isn’t enough to convince me to blow money on something silver, if it isn’t marked – and it shouldn’t be enough for you, either. And a lot of these chopsticks online and elsewhere, aren’t marked. Whatever you decide to buy – make sure they’re marked. If they don’t show you a photograph of the marks, or if you can’t find them – then move on and keep searching.

Japanese Personal Chopsticks!

One thing I loved about the chopsticks I bought is that they came from Japan. This interested me for a few reasons…

One, because Japan loves making things out of silver (seriously, have you seen Japanese silver sake sets?), but also, two, because Japan has a strong culture of personal dining utensils.

Unlike China, it’s really common in Japan for people to have their own personal, individual chopstick-sets, instead of just digging out a pair of mismatched whatevers, from the darkest depths the cutlery drawer in the kitchen, whenever it’s time to eat. You can even go to that Japanese super-store, DAISO, and you’ll see individual chopsticks-sets for sale – usually aimed at children – so that they can get used to the idea that “this is MY set, and only I am going to use them!” (by the way – those child’s sets are also really useful if you ever decide that you need a small set for traveling, or keeping them at the office for lunch, or whatever!) – they even come in their own little pouches and cases, enforcing the idea that these are your chopsticks, and none shall have use of them, apart from you!

The culture of personal chopsticks sets is so strong in Japan that there’s even stores there (bricks-and-mortar, or online) which sell a stunningly wide array of chopsticks in all kinds of styles and designs, from retractables, glass, porcelain, bamboo, bone, steel, exotic woods, screw-apart compact ones – and hell yeah – even ones in solid silver!

So – if you are looking for a nice pair of silver chopsticks – probably best to start in Japan, and widen your search from there.

Aside from that…

…happy eating!


 

Gold-Filled Chatelaine Fob

Most people who know anything about pocketwatches and how they’re used or worn, will be familiar with the wide variety of attachments you can clip onto the bow (the ring at the top of a pocketwatch) for decorative, or security purposes.

Double-Alberts, Single-Alberts, ring-clip chains, belt-hook chains, grosgrain fobs, and drop-fobs are the most common types of pocketwatch adornments, but one type of pocketwatch accessory is almost forgotten in the 21st century – the pocketwatch chatelaine fob.

I’ve wanted a chatelaine fob for years, I just didn’t know it. Or rather…I did know it…I just didn’t know what they were called! I found out what their proper title was when I was browsing an antiques website a few years ago, and ever since, I’d been chasing after one, trawling eBay, trying to find one that I liked enough (and could afford!) to buy. Man, these things are expensive! I finally got lucky and found one which I could afford without breaking the bank, and made a dive for it.

What Is a Chatelaine?

When most people think of chatelaines, they think of those things that women used to wear back in the Victorian and Edwardian eras – large, elaborate clasps or brooches which hung from a woman’s belt or waistband, with chains hanging off the bottom, which were used to carry all kinds of little accessories: Scissors, keys, sewing equipment, pocketwatches, change-purses, pillboxes…the list of things you could clip to a chatelaine was almost endless. Chatelaines for women died out in the 1920s, when changing fashions and an increase in the use of handbags meant that was no longer fashionable (or necessary) to carry all your necessities on a set of chains hanging off your belt!

A man’s chatelaine is little different from a lady’s chatelaine, except that male ones aren’t quite as complicated! They’re comprised of a hook-clasp, which fastens to the user’s garments, a watch-chain, to hold the watch, and a metallic drop-fob, usually with a plaque or cartouche at the bottom for engraving the owner’s name or initials into.

The chatelaine fob which I ended up buying

The construction or style of the fob is completely open to interpretation. Some have braided wire, some have chains of different sizes and lengths, some have panels held together with rings or rivets…it’s really up to you, what you’re after, what you can find, and what your personal style is.

How do you Wear a Chatelaine Fob?

Since chatelaine fobs are so obscure these days, it’s probably not surprising that most people don’t know how to wear them.

The watch is clipped to the chain, and stored in the watch-pocket of your jeans, slacks or shorts. And yes, that “fifth pocket” on your jeans IS a WATCH-POCKET. It’s not for your keys, or coins, or condoms, or your cyanide pill if your mission goes pear-shaped…it is for your pocketwatch!


The clasp-hook is slid over your belt, or the waistband of your jeans, or shorts, and then clipped into place. The drop-fob just…drops down the side! It’s function is largely decorative. And there you have it! All done.

That’s neat! I wanna buy one!

Sure you do!…um…good luck finding one, but, sure!

Search eBay, using terms like “pocketwatch fob” or “chatelaine fob”, or “antique watch-fob” or word-combinations in that general direction, and you might find what you’re looking for. But be sure to pay really close attention to what you’re buying. In particular, make sure of the following:

Make sure that the drop-fob has the seal-fob at the bottom. Sometimes, they’re missing.

Make sure that the watch-chain is included. And make sure that if it is, the lobster-claw clasp at the end (that goes around the watch) is also included! Make sure that the hook-clasp (that goes around the watch) is also there.

How much do they cost, you ask? Well, it really depends. They run the whole gamut of prices, from under $100, to over $300! How much you wanna spend on the style you like is entirely up to you. But keep in mind that the vast, vast majority of chatelaine fobs are gold-filled. They’re not solid gold, hell they’re not even silver vermeil. They’ll be gilt brass in most instances. Think about that before you potentially drop hundreds and hundreds of dollars on a watch chatelaine.

 

Antique Solid Gold School Cufflinks

Last year, I wrote an article on this blog about the time I discovered pair of sterling silver cufflinks with the Scotch College school crest on them. Discovered online, it was the biggest shock of my life that such a pair of cufflinks might even exist! I absolutely had to have them, and come hell-or-high-water, I added them to my collection.

This posting is all about the unlikely, and frankly – unexpected – sequel to the discovery of nine months previous.

Suffice to say that I was contacted by a retired antiques dealer up in Brisbane, who said that he’d stumbled across my blog while researching a discovery that he’d made in a pile of scrap gold and jewelry. His researches had led him to my blog, and after reading the first article I’d written about the sterling silver Scotch College cufflinks that I’d found, he was very eager to get in touch with me.

The cufflinks in gold (top) and sterling silver (bottom)

We made contact via text-message, and that was when he dropped the bombshell information on me that while digging around in some of his antique jewelry, he’d found a pair of the same cufflinks in 9ct solid gold!

I’ll admit it took me a couple of minutes to register this information. Silver cufflinks belonging to a high school are rare enough, but solid gold ones!? And antiques!? What the hell’s the chances of that?? He told me that he’d found my silver pair while researching the school motto, and asked me if I would like to buy the matching gold ones as well!

Uh, no. Thanks. It’s fine, no really…

OF COURSE I SAID YES!!

The back of the gold cufflinks, showing the maker’s mark and the hallmark for 9ct gold

After exchanging a couple of photographs and confirming what they were, and that they were real, we tossed a few numbers back and forth, finally settling on a price, with free express postage thrown in! They arrived within 24 hours, and were everything that I’d hoped them to be!

As you can see, these cufflinks are the exact same size, and design as the sterling silver pair in my previous posting. For this reason, I figured that they were made during the same era – the late 1920s through the 1930s, and manufactured by the Melbourne-based firm of G. Damman’s, which held a large jeweler’s and tobacconists’s premises on the corners of Swanston & Collins Streets in the Melbourne CBD.

The storefront of Damman’s, Tobacconists & Jewelers, 211-213 Collins Street, Melbourne

I do not know for what reason, nor under what circumstances cufflinks of such quality were manufactured for, and sold by, the school, and we may never know, but the fact that they exist at all is tantalising and fascinating! I absolutely love having both sets in my collection, and I think I can safely say that I would never, ever sell them!

Damman’s Tobacconists & Jewelers, Melbourne. Ca. 1963

Where the hell would I ever find another set!?

One of the most unusual elements about this whole story is where the cufflinks came from – not Melbourne, not even Victoria. No! They came all the way from Queensland, up near Brisbane!

How on earth a pair of antique gold high school cufflinks from Melbourne ended up in a suburb just outside Brisbane on the other end of the country is anyone’s guess, but now they’re back home in Melbourne where they belong, and safe in the company of their silver brethren!

The DAMMAN’S STG SIL mark for Australian sterling silver
The DAMMAN’S 9CT mark for 9-karat gold

Other Scotch College Memorabilia

Along with gold and silver cufflinks, the school also commissioned everything from chinaware and cups, glasses, tie-bars, tie-pins, badges, cigarette lighters (also commissioned from Damman’s Jewelers) and stationery. You can still buy a lot of this stuff (OK, maybe not the lighters) from the school, brand-new, or if you’re after something vintage, then online.

I’m very pleased to be given the chance to add these, possibly quite rare, cufflinks to my collection, where they can rest alongside their sterling silver brethren!

 

Breathing New Life into Old Leather: Restoring an Antique Writing Folio

So, here’s something that I picked up at my local flea-market on the weekend. It was dusty, grimy, battered, and very, very faded. Despite that, a cursory examination told me that it was actually in excellent condition, despite being, what I judged, to be upwards of 100+ years old! It took me all of five minutes to decide that I really wanted this, and haggled a discounted price with the stallholder, and trotted away a very, very happy young man.

Once I got the folio home, I started examining it in more detail.

The more I looked at it, the more it appeared to me that this beautiful leather-good was significantly older than I initially believed. The styling of the pockets, as well as their general orientation and size, as well as the tri-opening panels, were all reminiscent of men’s wallets from the Edwardian era of the early 1900s – only – larger. Much larger!

Added to these observations was the fact that the folio was devoid of any modern features. No zippers, no snap-buttons, no elastic strap to hold it shut, no plastic of any kind, and – surprisingly – no indication at all – of where it was made! There wasn’t a thing on it, or in it, to tell me anything about it! No maker’s marks, no company logos, trademarks, company names, retailers’ addresses…nothing!

Once I got it home, I started the restoration process. This mostly consisted of double-checking, and reinforcing any loose or missing stitching – and going through the original needle-holes, where possible, to hold the folio together (fortunately, there wasn’t much of this which had to be done!). The next step was to clean the leather, and then came the labourous task of polishing it.

For this, I used ordinary dark tan boot-polish…and my right hand. Honestly, I just find it so much easier to apply shoe polish with your fingers, than fiddling around with a cloth or polishing rag of some kind. I just scooped it up, smeared it onto the leather, and started rubbing it in with my fingers. Once it was on, I just used a regular buffing brush to distribute and work the polish into the grain, spreading it out, and in, as I went. This was the real calorie-burner! I started on the outside and worked my way in, removing the belt entirely because it’d just get in the way (I polished that separately, later on).

The next thing to do was to do the interior. This was much more fiddly because of all the pockets and sleeves, but I got there in the end. Here, you can see what the folio looked like originally, vs. what it looked like when I was done…

Originally, the entire folio was this sort of…paper-bag brown. You can still see hints of the original colour showing through, where it had faded over the years (this also accounts for the uneven colour-distribution on the left and right). The interior received the same hand-applied polish and brushing, and then the entire thing was rubbed all over with a generous amount of dubbin.

Here you can see the final product, with the folio closed-up and belted…

…and the other side…

One element which I really loved was the decorative tooling around the belt-loop:

And finally, the interior…

If you look on the right, you might be able to see a light discolouration – a horizontal line running across the middle of the panel – that’s the result of the strap or belt being fastened across it for years and years, and the leather fading as a result.

Here it is fully opened…

On the left are three pockets (two small ones on top, one big one underneath). Next to them is the loop or sleeve to hold a writing instrument. The loop is VERY small. It will hold a pencil, or a dip pen, but that’s about it! Part of the restoration will have to involve enlarging (or replacing) this loop so that the folio can actually store at least one, decent sized fountain pen for the future!

The central panel holds one large pocket for storing documents, and three smaller ones for storing stamps and cards. Finally, on the right is one more large pocket, again for storing papers and documents. If you look very close, you can see the remains of an elastic strap sewn into the leather bordering, which would’ve been used to hold a notebook in place. Replacing that will be another part of the restoration.

Restoring the Folio

Apart from cleaning, polishing and rubbing in beeswax, the folio needed a few minor repairs and alterations. I hand-sewed some of the corners and edges where the stitching had come undone, to hold the folio together and to stop the pockets from tearing. Where possible I used the original stitch-holes to keep things neat, and also to preserve the integrity of the leather.

The next step was replacing the pen-loop. The original loop was extremely small and a pencil barely fit inside. To remove it, I cut away the original stitching using a pocketknife, removed the old leather forming the loop, used it as a pattern to cut a new piece of very thin leather, folded it over, stuck it inside, and using my sewing machine, I sewed the new loop back into place where the old one had been – again, using the original stitching-holes to try and keep things neat. The change is barely perceptible, but now, the new loop can actually hold a pen! I deliberately sewed the new loop out from the seam by about half a centimeter or thereabouts, so that it could fit a decent-sized modern fountain pen (and most vintage ones, too).

The final step in the restoration was sewing in a new, black elastic book strap (see above). To do this, I cut the stitches around the old book strap, removed the worn out remains of the old elastic, fed the new elastic through the same hole and sewed it back in. Then I stretched the elastic across, repeated the same thing on the other side, and sewed that in as well. To get the tension right (if it’s too loose, the book will just flop around everywhere), I measured the length, and then cut off two inches so that the elastic would have to stretch the last two inches, giving the right tension.

And here’s the final result:

As you can see, there have been a few changes. The enlarged pen-loop will now hold a modern cartridge-converter sized fountain pen (the pen in question is a Montblanc No. 145), and it has been made out of leather of a very similar shade to the original. In time, it will age to look more or less exactly the same.

The black elastic strap now holds the book in place, allowing me to flip it over either side, and access the two large pockets without having to remove the book entirely.

All in all, a great result!

Not bad for a $15.00 purchase at the flea-market.

 

Rejuvenating Antique Pocketknives – Breathing New Life into Old Blades

Pocketknives are fascinating little gadgets. Whether it’s a tiny 2.1/2-inch quill-knife, or a larger 5 or 6-inch stiletto, pocketknives have been part of our lives for centuries. Carried and used for everything from survival situations to cutting open boxes that come through the mail from eBay, opening mail, eating food, carving, cutting, slicing, opening cans, or even something as mundane as sharpening a pencil – pocketknives have been the go-to mainstay tool for all these tasks for generations.

My current knife collection

Collecting pocketknives is a highly popular hobby. Most knives are relatively cheap, portable, robust, and don’t take up a great deal of space. The wide variety of knife-patterns, blade-types, decorative elements, manufacturers and sizes in pocketknives is what makes them so collectible, and knives from famous manufacturers, made of rare or precious materials, or which were limited editions, can command high prices on the secondhand market.

In this posting, I’ll be talking about the general restoration process behind breathing new life into the type of pocketknife that most people will be familiar with: The standard slip-joint pocketknife, as typified by those made by W.R. Case, Victorinox, J. Rodgers & Sons, Southern & Richardson, and countless other manufacturers during the 1800s, and the majority of the 20th century.

Basic Knife Anatomy

In this posting, I’ll be talking about slip-joint knives: the kind of knife with a blade that folds back into the handle, so everything going forward, will relate to this style of knife.

To begin at the beginning, we need to know what the various parts of the knife are.

The body of the knife is made up of various components, which are stacked, one on top of the other, and held together with metallic rods.

On the outsides, working our way in, we have the bolsters. Not all knives have these. Some do, some don’t. Some have them on both sides of the knife, some only have them on one side. Bolsters are the flat, metallic panels at either end of a pocketknife. They’re usually brass, nickel-silver, stainless steel or some other corrosion-resistant metal. Their purpose is to strengthen the knife, and to protect the covers or scales on the sides of the handle, from damage.

Southern & Richardson cutlers, advertising a pocketknife with nickel-silver covers, and a built-in magnifying glass

Covers, also called scales, are the large, decorative panels which make up the majority of the bulk on the handle of a folding knife. Covers can be simply utilitarian, and be made of plastic, or steel or brass, but usually, they’re decorative. Pocketknives have had scales or covers made of anything from sterling silver to mother of pearl, ivory, bone, horn, any number of a variety of different woods, and various types of plastics in any number of finishes. Depending on the knife, scales may be smooth, or corrugated/textured. Textured scales are typically added to a knife to make it easier to grip.

Inlaid into the scales are (although, not always) small, metal panels, which can be almost any shape – rectangular, shield, circular…the list goes on. These are sometimes included for the purposes of embellishment (and to give the customer a place to engrave something like a name, date, or initials), or else, will contain details such as the company’s name, logo, or other trademark. These small panels are known as shields, badges or plates, depending on which name-convention you take to heart. Not all knives have these, but most will. They’re usually made of either brass, or nickel-silver.

The bolsters and the scales fit onto flat strips of metal, known as liners. Usually, they’re made of brass, so as not to rust and jam the knife.

Between the scales, bolsters and liners is the spring. The spring is the flat strip of metal at the bottom of the knife (or the top of the handle, if holding the knife with the blade-edge facing down). The spring is made of spring steel, which is nice and flexible. The spring is what holds the blades of the knife open, or closed.

Finally, you have the blades of the knife. Anything that comes out of a knife is known as a ‘blade’, regardless of whether it actually is a blade, or not. Knives can have anywhere from one, to two, three, four, or more blades, and extra features, depending on the knife’s size, and complexity. I won’t cover all this here, because otherwise we’ll be here all day.

Finally, the knife is held together with pins and rivets. The pins are driven through the bolsters, liners, and blades, and are then hammered and peened over, and smoothed off, to hold the knife together. Smaller rivets or pins are used to hold the scales or covers onto the liners, to stop them from coming loose.

The factory of Joseph Rodgers & Sons, Cutlers, Norfolk St., Sheffield, UK.

A standard slip-joint folding pocketknife will have two pins for holding in the blades and bolsters (one pin on each end of the knife), a third pin in the middle, to hold the spring in place along with the liners and covers/scales, and usually (but not always) extra pins or rivets to hold the scales in place. As with the liners, the pins or rivets are usually brass, nickel-silver, or stainless steel.

Some pocketknives have additional features, such as the very popular lockback mechanism. The lockback mechanism is a toggle or button located at the back of the knife. When the knife is opened, the ‘lock’ prevents the back-spring from shifting, keeping the blade steady while you’re using it. Pressing the toggle depresses the back-spring, which allows the exposed blade to be unlocked and swung back into the closed position. Lockback mechanisms are popular because they prevent the knife from closing unexpectedly if the blade is being used for particularly aggressive tasks (carving, splitting firewood, cutting particularly difficult materials, etc). Because of this, it’s usually seen as a safety mechanism, to prevent user injury.

Blade Anatomy

Now that we’ve covered basic pocketknife anatomy, let’s cover blade-anatomy. At one end you have the point, at the other end, you have the heel. Behind the heel you have the tang. The tang is the part of the blade through which the rivets and pins are passed to hold the blade to the handle. The tang is also where information such as the knife model, or manufacturer-details, are stamped.

At the bottom of the blade you have the edge, at the top, you have the spine. In between is the belly, or main body of the blade. Just below the spine you will have a slit or groove, commonly called a nail-nick or nail-pull. This is the indent which you put your fingernail into, to pull the blade open from the handle.

Buying Antique and Vintage Pocketknives

Pocketknives range from the mundane to the magnificent, from the pedestrian to the precious. Part of the thrill of owning them – of owning any collection – is the thrill of the hunt!

Antique and vintage pocketknives are highly collectible, and they can often be found in antiques shops or flea-markets for a handful of dollars, or online, for significantly more. In buying vintage folding pocketknives, you want to check a number of aspects before coughing up the money.

First and foremost – make sure that the knife is complete. Are all the scales there? Are there any missing pins? Dropped-off bolsters? Broken blades? I know that a lot of knives look very solidly made, but bolsters, pins and scales can all drop off over time, and you want to make sure that all aspects of the knife are firm and tight before you go any further. I bought a pocketknife once which was so badly constructed, it literally fell apart in my hands one day, and I had to throw it out.

Does your knife do that?

No? Good.

Next: Make sure (and this is very important) that the knife is as free from rust as it’s possible for it to be. Unless they’ve been very well cared for, almost all vintage pocketknives will have some sort of rusting on them. Age-spots or pitting may also present themselves, but rust is the real enemy here.

Rust can spread, rust can compromise the integrity of the blade, rust can even cause the knife to snap in half! Any knives with a LOT of rust should be avoided entirely.

After that, make sure that the knife actually functions! Do the blades open? Are they easy to open? Are they stiff? Can you yank them out without snapping your fingernails off? Once opened, do the blades stay open? Do they flop around? Is there any side-to-side wobble? When closed, do they stay closed? Do the blades strike each other (or the liners) when closing next to each other?

I’ve seen some beautiful pocketknives which looked flawless…until you tried to use them. Knives should have nice, strong springs that will cause the blades to ‘snap’ – meaning that the spring will have enough tension on it that the blades will click open or shut, with an audible ‘snap!’ each time. You do not want a knife with weak, floppy springs, that can’t hold the blades open or shut – it’s a safety risk! Put the knife down, and keep searching.

Similarly (on multi-blade knives), make sure that the blades close properly. You don’t want a knife where one blade constantly strikes another blade when closing – it damages the blade, wastes time, means you have to sharpen it more, indicates that the knife is falling apart (or was poorly made), and it’s a safety issue!

Restoring your Pocketknives

Once you’ve purchased your knife, the next thing to do is to breathe new life into it. A lot of vintage knives spend years, decades, in drawers and shoe-boxes, down the back of the couch, and god knows where else! And they are hardly ever looked after. If you expect that beautiful horn-scaled pen-knife that you bought for $30.00 to work like new – it’s now your job to try and give that knife a new lease on life – to ensure that it does work like new!…Or as near to new as it’s possible for it to do so.

This next section of the posting is all about tips and tricks to restore your pocketknives to working condition. All this advice and guidance is assuming that you’re an everyday collector with no prior experience in fixing stuff. No fancy tools or equipment are involved in this, and everything mentioned should be stuff that you can find around the house (or which is easily purchased). These instructions will assume that the knife will remain whole and intact during the entire process. No disassembly will be required.

You will need…

  • A box of tissues.
  • Cotton-buds/Q-tips.
  • Extra-fine-grit sandpaper (as fine as you can get).
  • 0000-grade steel wool (designed for polishing).
  • A thin, highly fluid, lubricating oil (for sewing machines, or similar).
  • Polishing paste or fluid (eg: Brasso).
  • Sharpening stones.
  • Water.
  • Optional: Ultrasonic Cleaner.

The first thing to do is to remove all the surface grime. This can easily be done with some oil, and tissue-paper. Drip some oil over the body of the knife and blades, and fill the cavity in the handle with oil, then wipe and sponge it away with some tissues. This will remove any surface grime, grit, and other easily removed detritus. It is important to use oil as much as possible, and not water, as water will encourage rusting, and the spread of any existing rust, which is the last thing you want to happen.

Once the initial cleaning has been completed and you’ve removed as much crud as possible, the next step is the much more fiddly process of removing grime from between the springs and pivot-points inside the knife. This could take a few hours, a few days, or even a week or more, depending on the condition of the knife.

One of the biggest nightmares with vintage pocketknives are all the problems associated with stiff, jerky, jammed blades. Blades which are difficult to pull open, difficult to push shut, which don’t snap into place, and which jam and stick when they’re being used. Not only is this annoying, painful on your fingernails because you can’t get the damn blades open, and wastes time, it’s also a big safety-risk, since all the extra effort required to manipulate the knife can leave you prone to injuries. Nobody wants to fight with a stuck blade only for it to spring open unexpectedly and cut them.

Cleaning the Springs and Pivots

It’s for these reasons that the next step is so important: Flushing out the back-springs and pivots on your knife. It’s a fiddly, messy, time-consuming job – something best done while watching YouTube videos or listening to music, or enjoying a good movie – but it is nonetheless a necessary evil.

Get some tissue-paper and fold it until you have a soft pad. Place it on a hard surface like a tabletop. Flood the pivot-points and back-spring of your knife where-ever there is movement. Open and close the blades several times – dozens of times, hundreds of times. If necessary, you can wrap the blades in tissue-paper so that you can grip the blades safely while you open and close them – this will minimise the chance of cutting yourself, and will help you maintain a firm grip on the blades.

Every few dozen manipulations, close the knife and, pressing the spring-side of the handle against the pad of tissue-paper, rub it vigorously back and forth several times.

Now, watch in horror as black, grey, brown, gunky slime comes oozing out of the knife and all over your pad of tissues.

All these black, grimy streaks come from the crud and grunge trapped inside the knife between the liners, springs and pivot-points. The more of this stuff you remove, the smoother your knife will open and close

Ever wondered why your knives keep jamming? Ever wondered why they’re so damn stiff, and difficult to open? Ever wondered why your fingernails keep breaking every time you try and yank out a blade?

This is why.

The black sludge you see coming out of the knife is years, decades’-worth of grime, dust and other things caught up inside the knife-mechanism, which causes friction, abrasion and jamming. Since pocketknives are usually very close-fitting, it takes a minuscule amount of this grime to cause a lot of problems. Now imagine what a large amount of this grime causes!

Continue to flush, manipulate, and rub the back of the knife with tissue-paper as rigorously as you can. Filling the knife with oil washes out the grime. Manipulating the blades and springs shifts and loosens the dirt while also working the oil through the knife mechanism. Wiping the knife across the tissue-paper draws the grime-clogged oil out of the knife via capillary action, removing the grit that’s causing all the friction and jamming.

This process can be quite involved. It could take hours, days, even weeks to accomplish. You have to keep going until the oil that comes out of the knife is as clear as when it went in. The more of the grime you remove, the better the end-result will be.

Simply oiling the knife will not improve it. All you’ll do is shift the grime around, and attract even more dust into the knife. When the oil dries up (and it will), the knife will simply jam all over again. Flushing the grime out with oil and wicking it away with tissue-paper is the only way to really get the knife clean and functional, short of drilling out the pins and tearing the knife apart to its component pieces in order to clean them individually.

While you’re cleaning the springs, make sure you remove as much grime from around the pivots as well, by using a similar method. Flood the knife with oil, work the blades to shift the oil, and then stuff a folded wad of tissue-paper into the knife and into the gaps around the pivots to draw out the oil and grime trapped inside.

The more you do this, the less crud there will be inside the knife and the smoother the knife will operate when you’re finally done. When done properly, the knife should (in most cases, anyway) have blades which will open and close with a nice sharp ‘snap!’ as it should do, when new. If the blades still jam or stick, then continue the process, until they don’t. If you use your knife often, then you should repeat this process every few years to prevent even more build-up of grime that will be harder to remove later.

Rust Removal

When the knife has reached this stage (or as close to that stage as you can), then the next step is to remove as much rust (if any) as you can from the knife.

Rust builds up where there’s steel – specifically the back-spring, the blades, and their tangs. In the old days, blades were protected from rusting by polishing them to a shine, and either plating them (usually with nickel), or else by keeping them oiled. In instances where the nickel-plating is intact, minor polishing with a liquid polish such as Brasso will be enough to restore the shine and remove the surface-rust, if any.

Heavier rusting will require the use of either a chemical rust-remover, or else, a gentle abrasive such as extra-fine steel wool, or a combination of 0000-grade steel wool and some oil, or polishing liquid to act as lubricant. It will remove the rust, polish the blade, and so long as the blades are kept dry – will prevent the return of any extra rust. Removing rust from either side of the back-spring can be done with fine sandpaper and oil, or with clumps of 0000-grade steel wool, and finished off with a suitable metal polish.

Removing Chips and Cracks

When buying antiques, one of the most common things one has to think about is what one can comfortably afford, what one is willing to pay for an item, and what kinds of compromises one is willing to accept in order to get the object that they truly desire.

As I’ve mentioned in other postings about buying antiques: The more things you’re willing to compromise on, the wider the range (and the cheaper the prices), of things you’re able to buy.

If you do buy a knife with a chipped or cracked blade, however, you still need to try and buy the best that you can. Typically speaking, any chips that you might find should be as small as possible (ideally, no more than 1-2mm), and any cracks should be near the tip of the blade. This makes them easier to deal with.

If you do find a knife that you really like, that you would love to buy, but which does have a tiny little niggling chip that might be dissuading you from forking out the money – don’t worry! There are ways of fixing this!

Sharpening Your Knife

For reasons of safety, sharpening your pocketknives should always be the last thing that you do, once all other restorative processes have been completed. Trying to clean, polish, lubricate, or otherwise restore a knife with freshly sharpened blades in the way invites unnecessary danger, and should be avoided if possible.

To sharpen your knife, you’ll need 2-3 different sharpening stones. A coarse-grit one, a medium-grit and a fine-grit one. Depending on how blunt your knife is, you’ll want to start on the medium and then progress to fine, or coarse then medium, and maybe after that (if necessary) progress to fine.

Before you start on this, though – we need to deal with any of those tiny chips that I mentioned earlier.

If your blade does have chips – provided that they’re small and don’t bite into the belly of the blade too far – then this is when we get rid of them!

First – identify any chips. Then – get your coarsest sharpening stone. Lubricate it with water, and start running your blade – edge down – across the stone, like you’re trying to cut the stone in half with your knife. Make sure that the blade-edge is level on the stone as you do this, and that the blade isn’t angled to the left or right while doing this.

By ‘cutting’ across the stone like this, what you’re doing is scraping off excess metal from the blade-edge. This will wear down the edge until it meets up with the top of the chip that you’re trying to grind out. It’s for this reason that this trick really only works with SMALL chips – anything larger than 1-2mm (unless it’s a REALLY big knife!) will grind off too much metal for this little blade-hack to work on.

It’s worth noting that if you do have to do this – you should do it BEFORE you sharpen the blade, since obviously, grinding the blade like this will affect the edge.

Keep grinding down the edge until just before the nick disappears. Once you reach this spot, sharpen the knife as per-usual, starting on the coarse stone, and then moving to medium and then fine. The usual sharpening process will remove the last vestiges of the chip, leaving you with a clean, sharp, straight blade!

The Correct Sharpening Procedure

I’ve been sharpening knives for years – when you collect pocketknives and straight razors, it’s something you absolutely have to learn. It’s too damn expensive to ask somebody else to do it every single time!

Lubricate your chosen sharpening stones with plenty of water (I usually use a spray-bottle for this), and start from the coarsest grit and work your way up to finest. Exactly how coarse you start depends on how blunt the knife is. In most cases, a medium-to-fine sharpening will do, but for really terrible blades, coarse-medium-fine may have to be used.

Once the stones have been selected and lubricated (you may need to keep lubricating them as you sharpen), it’s time to sharpen the blades.

To stop your stones sliding all over the place – either put them into their bases (if bases they have), or else, put them on top of a small towel or flannel to hold them in place.

Place the knife-blade flat down on the surface, and raise the blade to about 10-15 degrees (or 45 degrees, then half of that, then half of that again), to get the right angle. Start drawing the knife, edge-first, back and forth across the stone at least two dozen times. Repeat for the other side of the blade. Then move up to the next least-coarse stone, and then up to the finest, repeating the two-dozen strokes per-side for each stone as you go along.

Once fully sharpened, cleaned and dried, you should be able to see (and feel) the blade’s sharpness. Hold it up to the light. A freshly sharpened blade will have a very thin, white line along the very edge of the blade (the burr). The burr is the excess metal that’s been ground off the blade during the sharpening process. If you run your finger across the blade, you might even be able to feel the soft prickliness of the tiny flakes of metal scraped off in the sharpening process.

Closing Remarks

Now that your knife has been flushed out, de-grimed, de-rusted, sharpened, and nursed back to health, it should be ready to give you many decades of excellent service.

 

Two of a Kind: Cased Pair of Antique Straight Razors

When it comes to collecting, buying or selling antiques – one of the hardest things to shift – either towards you, or away from you – are things which come in sets.

Sets are larger, sets cost more, sets have pieces that go missing, sets take up more space, they weigh more, and postage and delivery costs go up as a result. But when you can find a set in great condition, you hold onto it!

This is why antique sets of…anything…are always so hard to find. If you find them, if you can find them, and they’re in fantastic condition, then they have gigantic price-tags. And if you find them, and the price is reasonable, then there’s almost certain to be some kind of strings attached.

This is why I jumped at the chance to secure this beautiful set of matched, antique straight razors, when I saw them for sale online.

Back in the days when the only way to get a decent shave was to master the use of a cutthroat razor, manufacturers went above and beyond to try and make the shaving experience as enjoyable as possible.

One way of doing this was to sell razors in sets – pairs, threes, fours, and if you could afford it, even full, seven-day weeklies. Handsomely presented in wooden boxes with fitted interiors lined in fabric, these sets were designed to entice men to take pride and enjoyment in the art of shaving. They were status-symbols, intended to make you want to use them – to take care of them – and to want to learn how to use them.

Today – such multi-razor sets are prized, and rare, antiques. To find a set in complete and functional condition with minimal wear or damage is becoming increasingly hard, and any such sets usually command high prices. I consider it nothing but great fortune to have landed this deal for under $150.00!

Multi-Razor Sets – Whys and Wherefores?

Multi-razor sets are a strange beast, a curious relic of a bygone age. When’s the last time you went out to buy a new razor, and got told by the salesman at the grooming-supplies store, that you had the option of buying razors in two, three, four, or even seven-piece sets of matching razors?

Never. That’s when. And yet, in an age when one straight razor was just as likely to do as good a job as two, or four, or seven, multi-razor sets were surprisingly common. Sold by department stores, famous manufacturers, and jewelry and luxury-merchandise retailers, sets containing multiple razors were often presented in handsome cases made of wood, covered in leather, swathed in velvet and silk, and with gold-leaf logos and company names stamped on the lids.

But why? Why bother? What’s the point of having more than one razor, when one razor will do just as good a job as two or more?

Multi-razor sets were popular in the Victorian era and the first half of the 20th century, because using a straight razor required considerably more skill than a modern cartridge razor, or even a double-edged safety razor. Straight razors took more skill to strop, and sharpen, and maintain overall. Because of this, having a set of multiple razors allowed you to spread out your shaves across multiple blades, thereby reducing wear on the blades, and by extension, reduce the number of times that it was necessary to sharpen a razor – not a skill that everybody was well-versed in (assuming that they even had the necessary equipment to carry out such a task).

Sharpening razors was done by your local barber, the man who was more likely to know everything about razor maintenance than anybody else in town. To avoid paying for his sharpening services too often, razors were simply rotated and stropped as often as possible, to avoid having to visit the barber. Only when the razors were so blunt that stropping alone wouldn’t return them to full sharpness, would the razors then be touched up again on a razor hone, to bring them up to working condition.

Cased razors require more scrutiny than most, since boxes and storage cases rarely survive intact.

Drawing out the times between sharpening periods was important for another reason, quite apart from cost: Blade wear.

Straight razors have very, very thin blades – thin enough to snap with your bare hands, if you’re not worried about slicing your fingers off, first – and because of this, the edges of the blades can get worn down very easily from excessive or incorrect sharpening. Razors which are over-zealously sharpened can suffer from “smiling” or “frowning”, where the edges (smiling) or the middle (frowning) of the blade-edge are so ground-down by abrasion that the physical blade starts to lose its shape – they aren’t called STRAIGHT razors for nothing, after all – if the blade isn’t straight, it can’t be sharpened. If it can’t be sharpened, it can’t be shaved with – you have a useless blade!

It was to prevent this from happening that people bought multi-razor sets – to cut down on the cost of sharpenings, and also to reduce their frequency to make the blades last as long as possible.

The final reason why multi-razor sets were so popular is because they were considered a status symbol. While anybody could buy two (or more) individual razors, and rotate them day by day or week by week to reduce blade-wear and sharpening, being able to buy a cased, matched set was something that was, in general – on a whole other level. The expense of making a custom case, of lining it in fabric and veneering it in leather, of adding in the fittings that would hold the razors in place, of adding in the hinges, catches, or even locks and keys, all entailed extra time, expense…and therefore – money.

If you were able to afford all that – even for a two-razor set – then it suggested that you were a person of means – a person who could afford a few of the finer things in life – and a person who could justify the expense of buying your own cased set.

Multi-Razor Sets: Buying and How-Tos

As I mentioned before, multi-razor sets don’t really exist these days. A handful of companies still make seven-day luxury sets, but these cost thousands upon thousands of dollars each, and it’s unlikely that most people interested in straight razor shaving would wish to spend that amount of money on such a set, unless it was a real, once-in-a-lifetime splurge.

So if you do want to own such a set, then the only way to get one is either to accumulate the razors yourself, and make the case or box at home (or commission somebody else to make it for you), or to buy one secondhand.

Let’s assume that you want to, and you do. What sorts of things do you need to be aware of?

I already covered most of the details about buying vintage or secondhand razors in my previous posting on razors (see “The Idiot’s Guide to Straight Razor Shaving” that I wrote a few weeks ago), so in this part of the posting, I’ll be discussing other things to keep an eye out for, besides the razors themselves.

Checking the Razors

The first thing you want to do is to check the razors themselves. Now I already covered most of this previously (see the link, above), so I won’t go into it in amazing detail – but suffice to say – you want to be sure that all the razors in the set are identical, and that they are all in functional condition, or can be restored to functional condition.

Blades should be clean, undamaged, and without heavy rusting.

This is one of the biggest pitfalls when it comes to buying antique razor sets like this – all it takes is one TINY blemish – one crack, one chip, or one set of broken scales – to completely ruin an otherwise pristine set. Once one of those razors is damaged and can’t be repaired, the set loses all its value! Nobody will want it because they can’t use it as intended, and because of that, regardless of how cheap the set is, it’s pointless trying to buy it.

This isn’t something that you want to find out AFTER you’ve bought a set, so make sure you check every single razor with microscopic precision, before dropping any money. Light surface-rust and minor scuffs and damage can be repaired, but major issues like cracked, split or chipped blades, heavy rust that goes deep into the steel, or major damage to the box are all things which are irreparable – the set is now worthless. Don’t buy one of those.

Checking the Box

Assuming that the razors are matched, and functional, without major defects, the next thing to examine is the box, or case which the razors come in. Check for any cracks, major blemishes, broken hinges, broken locks or clasps, damaged fittings, excessive wear or rubbing, split leather, major stains or other damage to the interior linings.

Some of these things can be repaired. Missing keys can be found, or re-cut. Hinges can be tightened and you can find new screws for that. Depending on how original you want the box to be, new fabric for lining the interiors can also be sourced (at the sacrifice of any gold-leaf printing inside the lid), and wooden surfaces can be sanded and re-stained to bring back the shine in the wood.

Brass or other metal fittings such as escutcheons, hinges, lock-plates etc, can be polished or replaced. The leather surfacing can be re-polished with an appropriate leather-polishing wax or stain, and gold edging can be retouched to an extent, with things like gold paint of the right hue (or if you really want to do it properly, you can get actual gold-leaf and do it that way).

A clean, unblemished interior.

While examining any prospective purchase, you need to decide just how much imperfection you’re prepared to tolerate, or how far your repair and restoration skills will stretch. The more you’re willing to compromise, the more sets will become available to you. Finding perfect or near-perfect sets for reasonable prices is very difficult – they’re getting increasingly rare, and the sets which are leftover are often more trouble to restore than they’re worth.

So, What about This Set, Then?

Isn’t it neat?? I picked this up on eBay about a month ago (what with our friend Coronavirus staying around for the foreseeable future, the parcel took forever to get here), and it’s something that I’ve always wanted to add to my collection: An antique, cased pair of matching straight razors!

What is it all Made Of?

This particular set features a wooden case or box, lined with red leather on the outside, bordered in gold leaf, with an interior of blue silk and velvet. The lid also features a nickel silver cartouche in the middle, where the owner’s initials or a date or some-such thing, could be engraved, if desired – a feature which bespeaks the set’s intended role as a gift, or as a significant purchase.

The razors themselves are made of carbon steel, with the original owner’s initials engraved on the blades, and which possess scales made of celluloid plastic. The original eBay listing identified them as bone, but a close look reveals the faux-ivory ‘grain’ pattern, that is so common to so many early celluloid-scaled razors.

Restorations and Repairs

The set didn’t really need much work, once I’d gotten my hands on it – one of the main reasons I bought it. Apart from some polish to hide some marks and bring a bit of colour back to the leather, a bit of metal polishing to the hardware, checking the razors for rust, and then giving them a thorough sharpening, there really wasn’t much to do.

Restoring the finish was largely a matter of rubbing red leather polish in, to bring back the original colour and restore any fading or colour-loss.

All in all, the set was in excellent condition, barring some minor touch-ups, cleaning and general maintenance. A worthwhile purchase which will only ever increase in value.

 

Luxury Sterling Silver Toothpick

If ever two words were more opposite to each other, I don’t think you could find a pair more perfect than ‘toothpick’…and…’luxury’.

But here we are.

I have dared to put these two into the same sentence, and it has been done.

Toothpicks have been used for thousands of years for cleaning teeth, picking out stuck food, gunk, grime, or for scraping away at the enamel surfacing to remove hardened plaque or other detritus. In an age before particularly sophisticated (or comfortable) dental care was available, keeping one’s teeth clean with a toothpick was one of the most important things ever! Abscesses, receding, or inflamed guns, and the sheer discomfort of stuck food or tooth decay, were big motivators for keeping one’s mouth (and teeth) as clean as possible at all times.

Precious Metal Toothpicks

Toothpicks made out of metal have been in use for centuries, and ranged from simple copper, bronze or brass ones, to expensive luxury models, such as those made from silver, or from (usually low karat) solid gold. In an age when plentiful food and good nutrition was much rarer than it is nowadays, using a silver or gold toothpick to clean your mouth after a meal was a sign of wealth and extravagance – the fact that you needed to use such a thing indicated wealth, and the fact that it was made of silver or gold only enforced this fact to anybody watching.

Precious metal toothpicks in gold or silver were common in many cultures around the world, and examples have been found which were made in the United Kingdom, Australia, and several countries in Asia, where using toothpicks is much more common overall, than it tends to be in European countries.

In both Europe, and Asia, silver and gold toothpicks were a common accessory. Usually, such toothpicks were housed in cylindrical metal storage tubes, and could be slid in or out upon the demand for use. They were usually affixed to the user’s clothing, or hung around the neck, using a chain or necklace, or else clipped to another piece of jewelry – such as on the end of a pocketwatch chain.

Such retractable toothpicks became increasingly popular in the 1700s and 1800s, when grooming and personal presentation were taken very seriously, and when professional dental care left much to be desired. Numerous silversmiths and goldsmiths all over the world made toothpicks for sale the public – usually out of high-grade silver (800, 900 or 925 sterling), or else, out of lower-grade gold (usually 9kt), owing to the soft nature of gold, which had to be heavily alloyed with copper so that it would be strong enough to be made into something as thin and small as a toothpick, without snapping or breaking while being used.

I picked up this particular toothpick at my local flea-market. There wasn’t much information, except a card that said: “STERLING SILVER TOOTHPICK”, and a price ($5.00). I have no idea how old it is, but going by the “STG SIL” mark on the end of the shaft, I’d say that it was Australian-made (STG SIL is a common, generic Australian silver mark, standing for “STERLING SILVER”).

The pick is square cross-sectioned, with a sharp, pyramidal point, a twisted shaft, and a flat, spatula’d end with the fineness punched into it. It’s 2-3/4 inches long, and is by far the smallest antique I have ever purchased!

For the person who has everything – you can still buy sterling silver toothpicks today. They might be the perfect “green” solution for you, if you’re looking for a portable and discrete way to clean your teeth while out and about, and don’t want to use wooden toothpicks, plastic ones, or miles and miles of dental-floss. A number of online retailers sell them and if nothing else, it’ll definitely be a conversation-piece at your next dinner engagement!…but perhaps just display it, rather than demonstrate it!

 

Restoring a 1920s Retractable Razor Strop

Back when straight razors were still the predominant method for carrying out the daily shave, a wide variety of accessories and nicknacks were invented to go along with them.

Just like how nowadays you have suction-cup stands for your smartphones, or bendy-bendy-all-adjustable tripods and selfie-sticks for all your photographic social-media needs, or how companies are now trying to sell you all kinds of groomers, trimmers and motorised hedgeclippers to trim literally every part of your body that you can reach (and even some which you probably can’t!), back at the turn of the 20th century, all kinds of manufacturers were cranking out an equally wide variety of gizmos that claimed to make your grooming routine oh-so-much-easier!

From specialist sharpening stones to razor-kits, reusable blades and shaving sticks, all kinds of accessories were available from any number of magazines, catalogs and specialist suppliers. One of the most common accessories – especially popular among the well-groomed traveling gentlemen of the world – was the retractable razor strop.

Strops – the long, wide strips of leather used to smooth off and realign the edges of the blades on cutthroat razors – had to be as smooth and as flat as possible. Folding, bending or creasing the strop in any way while traveling would cause excessive wrinkles, kinks or deformity to the leather, which would render it useless as a strop. Because strops had to be kept smooth and flat, they could take up a lot of space when traveling. However – there was nothing against rolling up a strop – simply rolling a strop up wouldn’t cause creases or fold-lines that a razor-blade could trip over – which made it the ideal way to package a strop small enough to the portable, without compromising its structural integrity.

The only thing was – there had to be a way to easily roll and unroll the strop each time it was used. In the end, a simple coiled-spring retractable mechanism was created, and housed inside a metal barrel or casing. One end of the strop was attached to the spring-barrel inside the casing, and the other end of the strop trailed out of the mouth of the casing. The remaining leather was coiled up inside the casing, and wrapped around the barrel. Pulling the strop out for use would cause the spring inside the casing to tighten up, and letting go of the strop would make the spring relax, spinning backwards and pulling the strop back inside the storage case.

Simple, and effective.

So effective that several of these retractable strops were manufactured and sold to the public! What had once been a strip of leather over a foot in length and two to three inches in width, was now little more than a rolled-up leather strap, tucked into a metal casing smaller than a soda-can! So simple, so robust, and so convenient!

The majority of these retractable razor strops were housed in cases made of nickel-silver, or silver-plated pewter, or some other variety of cheap, white metal, presumably to keep costs down. The one which I bought online differs from all these greatly, in that the outer casing is made entirely of sterling silver – and has all the hallmarks to prove it!

I have seen several of the silver-plated ones, but never one which was made of solid sterling silver before. After winning it at auction

Pulling Apart the Strop

The original leather that comprised the main component of the strop was completely un-salvageable. It was dry, cracked, torn, brittle and covered in grime. No amount of beeswax and polishing was ever going to restore it.

The first step was to remove this. To do that, I unscrewed the strop-casing, starting with the large bolt that goes right through the body of the casing. After unscrewing it, I pulled it out, and broke the casing open into its three main components: The barrel, and the two end-discs.

Inside the barrel was the strop, and the winding cylinder, all held together by two end-caps.

The strop with the new leather.

I pulled these out and then removed the spring that activated the recoil-mechanism. The final step was to remove the actual leather from inside the cylinder. The leather is simply held in place by friction, and three triangular claws that hold the leather in place. I ended up just cutting the leather out using my pocketknife and pulling it out with tweezers.

I used the original leather as a template, from which to cut a strip of fresh leather of the same dimensions, from some scrap leather of the same thickness and similar finish.

The next step was to fit this into the winding cylinder, and fit the three claws in place, to stop the leather sliding out. After that, the spring was put back inside, the end-caps slid on, and then the leather was simply rolled up around the cylinder.

After that, the cylinder, spring and leather were dropped into the barrel, and the end-discs were fitted back on. I fed some of the leather out of the mouth of the barrel, and then started screwing the bolt back on. This proved to be surprisingly tricky and took a few tries to get right – but the threads finally meshed and the whole thing was screwed back together.

The final step was to cut and sew a new pull-strap to put onto the end of the strop, polish up the metal to remove the worst of the tarnish, and then hang it up in my bathroom. All done!

The hallmarks on the silver casing reveal that the strop was made in Birmingham, in 1924. For something that’s nearly 100 years old, it works surprisingly well!

The spring is perhaps not as elastic as it once was, but the results speak for themselves…