There is a rumour abroad that I have a thing about shoes.
I’ve never been very comfortable about the whole ‘girl thing’. I’m large; only have one eye; and far too scatty to do the whole ‘groomed and lovely’ bit.
‘One can never be too old, too grey or too plain for a gorgeous pair of shoes. And one can never be too fat or too thin, either’.
[You can read her riposte to criticisms of the article here]
I treat my shoes very badly, as you can see by how beaten up my Ecco black boots are.
OK – these are UGLY…but I trotted round the Australian Outback in them, and they were perfect for that.
More Ecco…probably the most comfortable shoes I own, maybe ever owned. Hurrah for the Danes. All this and Compeed!
Ditto these…I bought them in KL to replace a pair that I’d broken (OK, I fell down a marble staircase…these things happen).
Sure…I probably don’t need three pairs of brogues…but one pair is PURPLE…the flat pair, and the patent pair are Ebay bargains.
[Blame Jo Grieve for the purple ones…and the doggie ones…Folie à deux]
Boots NOT made for walking…
…and some which are.
My Christmas present from Adam…what’s not to like, love, wear ’til they fall apart?!?
This is sad…my worn running shoes…from the days when I was (briefly) fit.
Found at Eynsham charity shop….
…more Ebay, more Irregular Choice.
I bought these off Ebay to go to my friends Andrew and Cathy’s wedding. I just about managed the wedding and reception, then I had to send the Beloved to get the car, as I sure couldn’t walk to it. I also managed half a garden party at Blackfriars, before having to catch the bus home barefoot.
These are better party shoes really…but when I wear heels I feel grown up…beautiful…womanly. Things I don’t…usually…It’s a shame, as my Beloved remarked (the day before yesterday, since you’re asking) that I walk like I’ve got a broken leg when I wear heels…and I do the concentrating tongue thing…and the toddler panting thing….
…so day in, day out…I wear my Hi-Tops…which I love. The first cheque I wrote, on my brand new bank account (opened to go up to Oxford), was to buy a pair of pink Hi-Tops.
Shoes and me…I don’t think I’m an addict…but it’s a complicated relationship.
[The brown boots on the stairs, the Beloved’s. I’m not secretly entertaining Ken Clarke]