The flimsy brollies are often discarded in bins and bus stops across the city, unable to weather more than a handful of storms before breaking apart.

However, it would not be a problem if Mora Igra had her way.

The venerable Chilean, who lives on the outskirts of Brisbane, has been handcrafting umbrellas since 1971 when, as she puts it, they "were special".

There was a time when a sturdy umbrella was an accessory much like today's mobile phone.

But more often than not today they are mass-produced in factories, says the woman with a thick accent and rare skill.

“[The industry has] all changed," Mora points out. "All factories in China now and no-one cares for their umbrella or cares for how they use [them]. There are not too many of us left in the world.”

Mora may well be the last umbrella artist left in Australia.

“There is no-one left”, she says from her small workroom in Brendale.

Each of her handmade umbrellas is unique, crafted from “only the finest” materials, including European silk, cotton and cane.

Mora can make an umbrella in one hour, though bespoke designs that depart from her safely guarded patterns take longer.

“To create something special for the customer, that is beautiful,” she says.

Beautiful, but not good business, according to Rainbird Group director Rod Purnell, an umbrella seller since 1982.

“It's the typical story, isn't it? Australia used to make a lot of good umbrellas ... before all the manufacturing moved offshore in the '80s,” he says.

“Now wholesalers and retailers will buy from China. China is where most of the world's umbrellas are made.

“Even the expensive ones you might buy in Europe or England. Sure a component might be added or the umbrella handfinished in England, but the frame, the handle, basically the whole thing is made in a Chinese factory.”

The challenge for traditional umbrella makers like Mora is to convince people to pay $60 to $200 for their creations, whereas temporary brollies are only a few dollars.

The Chilean, who has recently taken ill and has been hospitalised, now fears for her working future, and that of her trade.

“I have no one young who I can give the skills to, so I am worried what will happen when I can make umbrellas no longer,” she says.

Yet hope remains according to one industrial designer who believes the time for the bespoke umbrella is now.

Indonesian-born Australian Andy Wana gained national attention in 2005 when his revolutionary umbrella design won the prestigious Australian Design Award Dyson Student Award.

The blow-out resistant Lotus 23 opened like blooming flower and was made from half as many parts as a conventional brolly.

"I believe people are starting to tire of the mass-produced, cheaply manufactured goods that have grown to take over basically since the industrial revolution," Wana says

“People are rejecting things that aren't unique or special or are distanced from the person or place they originate from – and I can see that there's new opportunity for design that is attractive that way."

Wana adds that the environmental impact of cheaply made, easily broken umbrellas may also catch up with their popularity.

“Just looking at them spilling from bins or piling up in landfill is perhaps a reminder that there could be a better way,” he says.

“If people were to invest in a good umbrella, one that lasts, one that was beautifully designed and that they were proud to carry, you're making something that people will treasure, not just another throwaway thing in a disposable life.”