
“Karmenu Chircop in his workshop, August 2024”
During a recent interview on shoemaking, I mentioned the term lanżit which prompted the TV presenter to question its meaning. An answer was provided but I felt there was more to be said on the subject. Therefore, I will be attempting to put together a number of short articles focussing on specific shoemaking terminology explicitly used in Malta starting with Lanżit.
To be quite honest, I only fully grasped some concepts of this material after transcribing the interviews with my mentor Karmenu Chircop and reading the resultant transcript again and again. So, here goes.
In Maltese, lanżit refers to the coarse, stiff bristles of a pig. Ken Stuart provides a similar explanation, identifying them as boar nose bristles. These bristles were typically sourced from abattoirs, reflecting the sustainable practices of Maltese shoemaking heritage, which effectively utilized animal byproducts.
The rigidity of pig bristles made them an ideal, practical, and sustainable substitute for needles in shoemaking. This ingenious tool not only enabled efficient sewing but also ensured minimal damage to the leather by maintaining smooth threading through puncture holes.
During my research, I learned that lanżit has been an integral part of Maltese shoemaking heritage for generations. It was used with ‘spag’ (string or thread), which was prepared using a special tool called an ‘magħzel.’ Linen thread would be attached to the bristle, creating a tool for sewing. This innovative combination allowed the thread to glide effortlessly through pre-punched holes in the leather. The bristles natural flexibility enabled them to navigate tight spaces and complex curves—something a metal needle simply could not achieve due to its rigidity.
I first got introduced to the term lanzit as used in shoemaking during my second interview with Mr. Karmenu Chircop. Prior to that, the only other time I had encountered the word was in connection with a broom for outdoor use—“xkupa tal-lanżit” (broom made of tough bristles).
From these two interviews alone, I could have easily written a book detailing the wealth of knowledge and historical intricacies he shared. Sitting in Karmenu’s Żebbuġ home, I listened as he relived the process. With hands still nimble from decades of craftsmanship, he mimed the careful twisting of thread into a bristle, waxing it with raża (a mix of beeswax and resin), and threading it seamlessly through leather. He emphasized the importance of “tislit” (splicing the thread) to achieve a seamless connection between the thread and the lanżit. This meticulous process ensured robust and aesthetically clean stitches.
He explained how Lanzit bristles were split into three strands at their ends to securely grip the thread, ensuring it did not detach during the stitching process. This natural splitting process also allowed for intricate stitching methods, such as sewing men’s shoes and the inner stitching required for women’s shoes. This versatility not only added strength to the footwear but also provided a refined finish.
According to the Carreducker Shoemaking Blog (2010), the bristles must first be prepared by “keying” them with fine sandpaper to create a textured surface that holds the thread securely. The thread’s tapered, unwaxed ends are coated with warm tar, which serves as an adhesive, while the bristles are similarly coated on their keyed sections, leaving the smooth parts clean. The thread is then tightly twisted onto the bristle, with each twist sitting snugly behind the last, maintaining tension throughout the process. To lock the twist, a small hole is made through the thread using a welting awl or nail, and the bristle tip is passed through this hole, securing it firmly. Finally, the bristle is shaped by beveling the tip at an angle to ease its passage through stitching holes, and a curve is added by gently running a nail along its length, mimicking the motion of curling a ribbon. As Carreducker emphasizes, mastering this technique requires practice to prevent the frustration of bristles detaching mid-stitch.
When I revisited these details, I realized how valuable this information would have been a few months earlier. I had been sewing a shoe off the last, from the inside to the outside, struggling with the tool’s inflexibility—even though I had switched from a straight needle to a curved one. Now, I can hold my head high and confidently blame the inadequate tool, rather than my workmanship, for those uneven stitches.
Reflecting on these insights, Lanżit emerges not merely as a tool but as a representation of a bygone era of craftsmanship—one that highlights ingenuity, sustainability, and an extraordinary level of skill.

“Magħzel”. Spindle.
- Carreducker Shoemaking Blog (2010) Bristle fashion. Available at: https://carreducker.blogspot.com/2010/03/bristle-fashion.html (Accessed: 29 December 2024).
- Ferness, R. (2019) Boar’s Bristles for Sewing Leather. Available at: http://www.ShoesByRobert.com/pennsic/2019/boar-bristles (Accessed: 12 December 2024).
- Mejlak, [initials not specified] (2017) Glossarji tal-Malti. Available at: https://malti.mt (Accessed: 12 December 2024).


With this article you have given a fresh approach of teaching the younger generation about crafts that are slowly disappesring from the scene….together explaining vocabulary that is now almost absolete.
Keep up the sterling work dear Becky.
This is so valuable as a part of Maltese intangible cultural heritage. Oral history at its finest. Is Malta signed up to the UNESCO treaty? Worth looking into it and seeing whether you can get funding, university backing or support to research further.
Our approach to attaching bristles is really for acrylic (fishing line) which we now use instead old boar bristles. It’s more forgiving when you are learning to stitch and they be reused a few times. Thanks again and keep up the good work.
If you’re in England next month there is the independent shoemakers conference with makers from Europe and USA. If not this year then next.
Warmest from London