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Fifty years ago, when men strode out in not just leather uppers but leather soles as well and women favoured a peep-toe stiletto for best, Brian Edwards opened his shoe repair shop – more often known in those days as a cobblers.

It was March 1958: Leeds United were running around in baggy shorts in Division Two, the Town Hall was a blackened monument to the city's polluted air, and the Beatles were a twinkle in John Lennon's eye.

These days the buildings are bright, Leeds United have been up and down leagues more often than a bride's nightie – which was the kind of joke told back in 1958 – and John Lennon is long gone. But Brian Edwards is still running his shoe repair shop.

Brian is now 68, and his leather apron looks much older than that, but his workshop is much the same as it was back in that year when Britain's pride was high and its shoe imports were low.

It smells of leather and dust: at one end is a huge metal finishing unit full of brushes and polishers that could withstand a bomb blast, at the other side, separated by a tumble of shelves only Brian can decipher, are the rows of abandoned shoes.

It's amazing how many people abandon shoes. Brian currently has around fifty pairs, plus a collection of odd shoes from when customers have brought in just the one. He keeps them all about fifteen years before judging that enough is enough and sending them in the direction of the dustbin.

"I used to be able to sell them, but there isn't any call for second hand shoes now," he said.

One thing has changed about Brian's workshop though – there used to be more people in it.

In its heyday the cobblers on Devonshire Lane employed seven men who, between them, managed a thousand shoe repairs a week.

In those days they collected and returned the shoes, and even drove down as far as factories in Sheffield to pick up big batches of work boots for repair.

On the domestic front, shoes were expected to last. Brian saw the same pairs from the same feet year in year out as he soled and heeled what were then an expensive purchase. Even the shoes belonging to fast-growing children's feet came in for repair.

His nemesis, strange to tell, proved to be Hush Puppies. The casual American shoe was, ironically, conceived in the same year Brian opened his shop and, when the brand hit British streets in the 1960s with its moulded, hard-to-repair sole, it trod all over Brian's business.

When it was joined by Tuf Boots it was pretty much game over for shoe repairs. Moulded soles were in and repairs were out.

After that, it was a case of gentle decline, although there was a brief upturn in the mid-1970s involving Doc Marten boots. The skinhead footwear of choice was good news for cobblers because it was repairable, though Brian had to learn a new technique involving some welding.

But the business gradually shed staff until it was just Brian and his dad Robert, and when Robert had a stroke aged 77 he was forced to retire, leaving Brian as last cobbler standing, serving customers who were the grandchildren of his 1950s clientele.

Over the years Brian has seen many changes, and many things come full circle. One noticeable change is the size of women's feet; in 1958 it was rare to see a women's size six, now it's not that unusual to have women's shoes to repair in sizes nine and even ten, he says.

But show Brian a wedge heel and he's not phased. Those, along with stilettos and platforms, have all come in and out of fashion during his five-decade career.

Now he repairs about 150 pairs of shoes a week – soling and heeling is £21 – plus a few handbags. He did once repair a rhino's head from Leeds Museum (it had dried out and split) but there isn't a lot of call for that sort of thing.

"People bring shoes to me that they can't get repaired at heel bars. I will do things like re-fix heels that have snapped off, dye shoes a different colour, stitch handles on bags, replace zips, that kind of thing.

"Shoe repairs these days need lots of different adhesives for different materials. There isn't much stitching, and everything is more lightweight. Shoes used to be heavier."

Now shoes are relatively cheaper than they ever were and tend to get thrown out, not repaired. Brian's dad was president of the Boot Trade Association in 1963 when there were 260 shoe repairers in the city, now it is barely double figures.

Brian plans to give up the shop soon and the building is for sale. It was built in 1882 as a shoe repair business and has functioned as one ever since: the first owner gave up the business after his son was killed in World War One and he had no one to pass it on to.

Brian, whose uncle was also a cobbler, began working in the industry as a lad, delivering shoes on his bike for his dad who had a shoe repair shop on Harehills Lane in Leeds.

He has never married and lived with his father in a nearby semi until Robert died in 2000. Now Brian plans to retire and do nothing much, except enjoy life.

"It's been a good, steady job and I've enjoyed it but my mortgage is paid off and now it's time to go" he said.