It will come as no surprise to the people in my life that my number one passion is shoes. Boyfriends and friends will come and go but shoes will always love me, although if ES thinks he’s getting away without a fight then he’s got another thing coming. That man is divine.
There are a number of reasons that I love shoes so much, aside from the fact that they’re inanimate objects and therefore entirely unable to wound me emotionally, (God I sound so damaged, honestly I’m not… all my friends who know otherwise are sworn to secrecy), is that I have beautiful ankles. I’m not afraid to admit it.
I have the body shape of a Bramley apple, which means that although I naturally carry all my weight around my middle (stubbornly far away from my cleavage or lack thereof) I am blessed with slim limbs. I have these spindly little ankles, the only part of me that is more delicate than an anvil. They look good in all shoes. Think of a shoe, any shoe, and my ankles will look stunning. The rest of me lets the whole thing down horribly, but that’s the side effect of having supermodel ankles and none-supermodel everything else… my other body parts look extremely mismatched by comparison.
I therefore have an unfair advantage when it comes to shopping for shoes in charity shops. People may have donated them because they looked too chunky, the ankle strap was too tight, the heel too thin, the colour too garish… and yet you place my foot in it and a small beacon of light will emanate from the floor around it. A faint sound of angels will be just audible above the hum of the city and people will gasp and point at the beauty they have witnessed before them. Then their eyes will begin to raise skywards taking in the rest of what must be a dazzlingly magnificent creature. Their expressions of adulation will morph into confusion and disgust as they come across my lack of a waist, my insufficient bust and strange ski jump nose, their disappointment; palpable.
These were not my size otherwise I would have tried them on. You can see that at their cuff, they are extraordinarily small and probably quite uncomfortable for people with average ankles. I can say with 100% confidence that my gazelle like ankles would have fitted them perfectly, as no one will ever be able to prove me wrong … A high cuff like this can cut your legs off short, so it helps to be at least 5″8 if you’re going to be wearing something like this. I am 5″5 and I refer you to my previous problem above. Ankles = exquisite. Rest of me = not so much.
I thought these were fun, if a little chunky for my taste. Of course they would look divine on the ends of my legs, but due to the time of year and my already Himalayan shoe collection I left them where they were.
These were oddly sized. As a size 5 they should have fitted perfectly however the elastic straps allowed one’s foot, and subsequent celestial ankles, to slide too far forward. Therefore I decided to leave them where they were, although, lets face it, if they don’t look good on me then there’s no hope!
These beautiful beautiful shoes were not my size, but they were the right size for Morven. As a woman after my own heart she also has a huge shoe collection, and as a student, she struggled to justify adding another pair of black court shoes to her collection.
So there you have it, a beautiful selection of shoes from only one charity shop in Aberdeen. And as for my ankles, if I begin to suffer from water retention around the age of 65, shoot me. Life just will not be worth living if my ankles suffer the same fate as the rest of me… lumps in all the wrong places…