It is a similar set-up to how he started out when he arrived in Britain more than 25 years ago. In his softly-spoken voice, which still bears a heavy accent, he recalls the part Diana, Princess of Wales played in his success. She first came across Choo in 1986, when he was cobbling two pairs a day from a studio in London's East End. "Lady Di helped me a lot," he says. "She trusted me, and for the first seven years I was making shoes for her, I kept it quiet and nobody knew it was me. Even though she was a princess, she often wanted very simple things. She loved flat pumps, even though I always wanted to put her in sandals because she had the most perfect feet. "She was always eager to exchange ideas, and she never said no to anything. When I started doing her evening shoes, everyone noticed and in those days anything she wore, people followed. She was wonderful and used to invite me to Kensington Palace at Christmas for champagne and mince pies. "I made her last pair of shoes just before she died. Gold pumps. I was going to deliver them when she came back from her summer. I am sad I never could." Growing up in the Malaysian province of Penang, Choo watched his father, a successful shoe-maker, painstakingly handstitch the soles on to his customer's shoes, all the while eager to teach the young Jimmy his trade. With his father's guidance, Choo made his first pair of shoes for his mother when he was 12. "My father was an artisan, and he taught me so many of my skills," he says. "He told me that if you have a skill, you can travel the world with it."

Choo is passionate about passing skills from generation to generation, and mentors young shoe designers while taking on apprentices as often as he can. "Britain is the best place for an education - that's why I came here. It taught me the rest of my skill. It also has a strong history and tradition for shoe-making, but it is dying or going abroad to Italy, where there is more manufacturing, or China, where labour is cheap. "In the old days, parents liked to pass their skills on to their children. They still do in my home country and much of Europe, but not so much here. I had dinner with Gordon [Brown] a few weeks ago, and I told him all this. I said we must support the young people. He agreed with my message." In his early twenties, Choo came to London to finish his education at Cordwainer's College in Hackney, now part of the London College of Fashion, where Choo is an "ambassador for footwear education". Since his split with Mellon, Choo has concentrated on handmaking bespoke shoes for his Jimmy Choo Couture label in the basement workshop of his only shop, on Connaught Street. For each pair, every angle and arch of his clients' feet are meticulously measured. "I design like an architect," he says. "It's a beautiful, distinctive art, and shoes are like the foundations. If the foundations aren't right, the building won't stand upright, and if a woman's balance isn't right, nothing else is."

The skill and labour of love that goes into creating a pair of couture Jimmy Choo shoes does not come cheap. Prices start at pounds 650 a pair, and the more elaborate designs can cost double that. But his clients have not dwindled during the recession, and Choo recently completed an order for a pair of pounds 1,000 christening slippers. "My shoes are beautiful, but they fit and they last," he says. "Yes, there are cheaper dressy shoes on the high street, which is good for choice, but do they fit properly and will they last? My clients keep my shoes forever." Does Choo regret ceding control over the company that still bears his name and is now a multi-million-pound global label selling sunglasses, handbags and - with the new and affordable H&M collection - asymmetric dresses and black leather trousers? "In life, you never know what will happen, but, for me, skill is more important than big returns. "I am grateful to my late partner, Tom Yeardye [Mellon's father who loaned the pair pounds 150,000 to start the label]. He promised to change my life, and he was true to his word." Choo adds that he could not put a price on the time that his decision to sell up has freed up for him to spend with his wife Rebecca, and their daughter Emily, 18. Having made no direct mention of Mellon during the interview, Choo smiles, pleased with his diplomacy. He admits his self-control has been enhanced by regular calls to his guru in Malaysia. Eddie Wong, a 37-year-old spiritual master in Penang, taught Choo the rudiments of feng shui and trained him in chi, an energy-creating Eastern philosophy. Whenever Choo returns home, the pair meet for one-on-one consultations.

"I call him every week, and he guides me in everything. He teaches me meditation and how to be calm. I used to get very angry when my shoe-makers did something that was not right, but not any more. He also has taught me I must never be jealous of anything or anyone. That is why I am so happy to pass on my skill to the young ones, and I don't mind if they will one day be competition. You must know how to spot talent and help it." Then he repeats with a wry smile: "You must never be jealous." The Sunday Telegraph, UK