All girls love shoes. Fact.
Even if she claims she doesn’t love shoes, or that they ‘conflict with her feminist ideals’ and goes on to rant about ‘why should women have to have their ability to walk affected just for the benefit of men’ it’s not that she doesn’t love them, it’s just that she hasn’t met the right pair yet.
I’ve loved shoes since I was 14 years old. I can’t remember the catalyst that kick started my enormous shoe collection, but it is responsible for many many years of happiness.
A couple of years ago I ended up with a chap, and we moved from Yorkshire to Aberdeen. He didn’t like that I owned so many shoes, and encouraged me to leave some behind at the local charity shop. In fact he didn’t like a lot of things that I did/said/wore and as a consequence I changed most of them, but the shoes? The shoes stayed with me. OK, they were re-boxed and for the most part unworn, but they remained with me.
One day he said something more ridiculous than usual and I immediately saw through the bullshit. I summoned the strength to kick him into touch and re-start my life with my true life partner: my shoes.
They pick me up when I feel low. A killer pair of heels has a way of changing my mood, my outlook, my energy.
They force your shoulders bag, your hips forward and make you stand tall. I may be risking bunions and knee problems, but I don’t care – I feel invincible.
Sometimes I’ll spot a pair of heels and I’ll just need them in my life. There is no logic, and despite rushed mental arithmatic which confirms my worries that I’ll be leaving myself with 57 pence to feed myself for the week, I just won’t be able to resist them.
I have bought all of the shoes below whilst panicking of immediate financial ruin, and yet here I am, not living on the streets. Instead, I roam the office in beautiful, beautiful shoes.
I was recently horrified by a previously unnoticed gap in my shoe collection. It suddenly struck me that I do not own a pair of blue shoes, powder blue to be exact, and this situation needs to be rectified immediately. Due to current binding contracts to do with a pesky secular/religious crossover going by the name of Lent, I am unable to buy anything from the high street. I am however able to purchase said powder blue shoes from a charity shop, though I will be unable to showcase them on the catwalk that is my life until after 30th March.
It was then that I spotted these Faith creations in The British Heart Foundation, but as usual I feared my overdraft and then something very strange happened. I left the shoes…
Maybe the toe was slightly too round, or the heel slightly too chunky, but whatever it was, it was enough for me to leave the shoes! To set off on a quest for something as specific as ‘powder blue court shoes’ in a charity shop is folly, but to actually find what you’re looking for is the stuff of miracles, so to leave them there is madness surely!
Then I thought to myself, perhaps my Lent vow is working! I am learning that I have such great stuff in my wardrobe already, that in order to add to it, it needs to be perfect. I know that these weren’t the perfect powder blue shoes, so the conspicuous gap will remain until I find them.
I seem to have developed a bit of a habit for brightly coloured shoes recently and I happened upon a theory quite by accident. Some of you may remember my new years resolution to only buy expensive shoes from now on. By this, I don’t mean that they need to cost me a lot of money, I just mean that they need to be of a quality brand, and Faith is kind of as low as I’ll stoop. This means no more succumbing to the shoe section of Primark because they’re only £6 in the sale.
I don’t feel that you can truly fall in love with a pair of shoes that only cost you £6. I only ever buy my shoes in the sales (or charity shops), but even a Dune pair will be usually no less than £40 even with a discount, and to invest £40, I need to feel a strong affection for them. To spend £50 I need to love them. To spend £60 or more, they need to have stolen my heart. To me, £6 shoes feel unloved. I’ll never look at them and think about how I agonised over the money, how I justified them to myself and how I decided that I loved them more than I love chocolate covered Hobnobs. They’ll just be a sad, disposable impulse purchase devoid of emotional soul searching.
An unfortunate consequence of my new brightly coloured shoe addiction is that they can have a tendency to look a bit cheap (white is the classic example) so by proxy, you need to be spending some decent money (or making a whopping saving in my case) to avoid looking tacky.
I saw these spotty Jimmy Choos and immediately fell in love:
Then I spotted these in a charity shop and was intrigued…
I liked them. Well, I really like the idea of them, but despite Schuh being a fairly decent brand, they just looked too cheap. The material had a slight sheen and wasn’t leather. For me, these would have needed to be leather and almost completely matte, then I would have fallen in love. But as it was, they were too tacky looking so I left them be.
There is a mystique to shoes, something I can’t put my finger on. The more they cost, the more I love them. The more I save on the RRP, the more a piece of my soul rests with them.
There is one more thing… ES loves shoes. He may even love them more than I do, and more importantly, he loves me in my shoes. Never again will I have to hide away a shoe purchase. If I can’t afford them, and I really really want them, he offers to go halves, that’s how much he loves shoes.
That’s how I know he is my soul mate, because he loves shoes just as much as I do and as yet, has not turned out to be gay.