After seventy years of shaping Jamaica’s craft and shoemaking culture, a quiet but significant institution is preparing to take its final bow. People’s Leather Supplies — once a bustling hub for generations of artisans and schools — is closing not due to poor sales or economic decline, but because time, succession, and circumstance have caught up with it.
At the heart of this legacy is Hope Smith, who for the past five decades has overseen operations with a meticulous hand, continuing the vision her father set in motion over seventy years ago. Smith is now preparing for retirement — a decision complicated by the absence of successors, the passing of her brother, and the withdrawal of long-standing employees due to age and health.
“There’s no one left to carry it,” she admitted. “We kept it alive as long as we could.”
Despite efforts to sell the business, prospective buyers either lacked the technical acumen or sought terms Smith was unwilling to accept — including requests for her continued involvement post-retirement. For her, the time to walk away is now, not later.
“Two years, no vacation, no breaks,” she stated flatly. “I’m ready to go.”
The leather shop has served as a behind-the-scenes engine for local industries, supplying a wide range of materials — from leather hides and soles to screen-printing vinyls and polishing agents. Schools depended on it for exam-ready supplies. Artisans relied on it for raw inputs. Even prominent brands tapped into its inventory.
But as Smith notes, these kinds of operations aren’t plug-and-play. “It’s a specialised trade. You can’t just walk in and take over.”
The pandemic era marked the beginning of the company’s physical contraction. The once-vibrant King Street location shut its doors, leaving only the Slipe Road outlet. While the property itself won’t be sold — a hardware store has already arranged to lease the space — the business operation itself will go dormant, its name retained but its daily life paused indefinitely.
The closure has triggered a wave of bittersweet sentiment across the customer base. Loyal patrons have begun stockpiling materials. Some have expressed frustration. But most understand: this is the end of an era.
The remaining staff — once a team of nine, now reduced to three — are also transitioning out. The two senior employees are heading into retirement. The youngest has secured new work with Smith’s assistance. It’s a responsible, dignified wind-down — characteristic of the business itself.
Despite the personal sadness, Smith holds her decision with resolve.
“You reach a point,” she said, “where you stop thinking about keeping things going for others and start thinking about what’s best for yourself.”
There’s still a flicker of hope — that a child or grandchild, currently overseas, may someday return and revive the shop. But until then, the final sale has begun. The shelves are clearing. The doors are closing.
And with them, Jamaica loses more than just a leather supplier. It loses a cultural fixture.
