There comes a time in a girl’s life when she needs to say a fond farewell to the past. In my case it’s a fond farewell to huge parts of my beloved shoe collection.
This time last year I was crippled with back pain having an inflamed sacroiliac joint which, I hate to inform you, is as painful as it sounds. Four months of careful movement, no lifting, low heels, a little physio (also eye-wateringly painful) and some individual Pilates sessions and I was eventually back on track. Unfortunately the casualty in all this was my beloved heels, the wearing of which has become something of a traumatic experience I’m inclined to experience less and less.
Consequently the past couple of months have seen a radical re-haul of my personal shoe emporium. And, dear reader, I hate to admit but I may have hoarded. Platforms from 9 years (I know!) ago, gone. Mules from, I’m ashamed to admit, over 10 years ago, gone.
Like any good shoe hoarder, each shoe has a backstory and a rationale. Most of which were sale purchases (the advantage of being a UK size 3!) and whilst still rather expensive, nowhere near as pricey as similar designer styles are today.
Most were well worn, some a little frivolous…
I will miss the elegant height of the 5 inch Gucci’s, having elbow fought not one but two women (!) on the first day sales in Selfridges 15 years ago, and the leg lengthening properties of any heel (and believe me, my short and stumpy legs need all the help they can get). I am enjoying the freedom of lace up brogues, the comfort of stomping around in biker boots, and the low heel tan boots don’t make my legs look half bad!