My Sandal Making Journey: From German Roots to Italian Craft and Australian Shores

Hello, I'm Kristin, the heart and soul behind Sandal School. Today, I want to share my own journey.

I’m often asked how I found my way into Italian sandal making — and how it all began. And this is exactly what I am going to share with you today. It is a story that took me from a small town in Germany, through the cobblestone streets of Italy, to the sunny beaches of Australia and eventually led to the birth of Sandal School.

_{With my 2 (not so small) children at the Amalfi Coast during our most recent visit in 2022}

Let me take you back about 2 decades. I was living in Germany at the time and took every chance to get away from the cold and grey skies by escaping to Italy. From an Australian point of view (where I live now) this was literally just driving a few hours “down the road”.

During one of those visits I found the most beautiful pair of sandals I had ever seen, made from the most luxurious leather and bedazzled with Swarovski crystals. As usual, they did not fit, a problem I was very accustomed to. I remember to this day how intrigued I was when the boutique owner told me that I should go to Capri to get them made to fit. This was the very first time I heard about the craft of Italian Sandal Making. 

First Steps along the Amalfi Coast 

A few years after this experience, I visited the Amalfi Coast for the first time. This trip will forever be the beginning of a love story, not only with the region itself, but also with an ancient craft of shoemaking that is now the foundation for my business and a huge part of my life. 

During my first holiday there I had my first pair of Capri Sandals made and felt immediately drawn to this craft. I spent hours watching artisans bringing the most beautiful sandals to life and I was stunned that this process, despite being so personalised, only took 20 or 30 minutes.I remember thinking, "One day, I’d love to learn this."

I spent the next few years building my career in the corporate world and starting a family, so this “one day” did not come until many years later, when my family of 4 moved to sunny Australia. We found our new home at the Sunshine Coast with sandal weather all year around, which was my invitation to finally pursue the dream of learning Italian Sandal Making. 

Our new home in Australia 

Although we absolutely loved the Sunshine Coast, making it our home was not easy. Everything was new, we didn’t know anyone, and we were far away from family and friends. My children were — and still are — my first priority. And at the time, I found myself drawn to creating something that would bring a small piece of Italy into my everyday life.

Becoming a maker of bespoke Italian sandals did exactly that. Through it, I met beautiful women in my new community who shared the same appreciation for Italian craftsmanship, built a career around something I truly loved, and over time, found my love for teaching.

But let’s start at the beginning

Finding mentors and suppliers turned into a two-year process. The path into this craft wasn’t straightforward, and much more challenging than I expected. Hours turned into days, weeks, and months of trying to find information. And at some point, it became clear that I needed to return to the birthplace of the craft to find what I was looking for.

So I packed up my family and travelled back to Germany and then on to Italy.

During this trip, I went from one sandal maker to the next, trying to learn and to find someone who would teach me the process — with little success. Until, on our last day, a young artisan shared with me where he sourced his materials.

I was beyond excited to finally be able to buy the essentials, even though I hadn’t found a mentor just yet. 

I spent the following year figuring things out on my own. After many months of trial and error, we returned to Italy the next summer.

This time was different. With the support of someone in the industry, I was introduced to mentors who were willing to guide me.

I was taken under the wing of a father-and-son duo of artisans who taught me the foundations of the craft. It was a very special experience — one I’ll share more about another time.

Building Sandal School

Over a decade has now passed since I started my sandal business, crafting bespoke Italian sandals for women on the Sunshine Coast and beyond.

After many years of working in this way, I began teaching local sandal-making workshops, where women come together to design and create their own pairs. Through these workshops, I discovered my love for teaching — and this is where Sandal School began.

Today, I mentor women online and support them in building Italian sandal businesses and labels of their own — creating work that feels creative, flexible, and deeply their own.

After so many years working within this craft, I feel a strong responsibility to help preserve it for future generations by opening it to women around the world and supporting them in sharing it within their own communities.

In a world that often moves too fast, we return to a slower, more intentional and personal way of creating, while honouring this Italian tradition and supporting the Italian craftspeople who make every component we use for our sandals. 

And if you’re wondering why this matters so much to me, it begins much earlier — in my childhood in the East of Germany.

A tiny village in the middle of nowhere

I grew up in a small village in what was then East Germany, at a time when life felt more limited, with less freedom and opportunity than we know today.

My neighbours were people of many trades, often part of multi-generational businesses — carpenters, seamstresses, builders, a potter, a basket weaver, a shoemaker.

People who worked with their hands, and shared their skills and knowledge whenever it was needed.

My grandfather, for example, was the village blacksmith. He made horseshoes for the farmers and did all the metal work for the community.

_{My home town}

Today, only a few of these skills are still alive. Many have not been passed down to the next generation.

In my own family, my cousin continues the blacksmith tradition in the fourth generation. But after him, it is unlikely that anyone will carry it forward.

And this is something I would like to change, at least within my own craft.

To help keep it alive by sharing it, and by placing it into the hands of women who feel drawn to it.

Whether that is through local workshops, The Studio, or deeper mentorship — it is about continuing something that might otherwise be lost.