Some women don’t leave the house without a dusting of foundation. Makes ’em feel ‘right’. Others like to make everyone late for a dinner booking as they have to straighten every last hair on their head to a mathematical precision using a blow-dryer, hot tongs and a spirit level.
Personally, I feel a bit NQR without a pointy toe.
In this way, I’m very girly-girl. I will spend any amount of cash on nice shoes, days discussing them and hours designing them in my head. The only difference being that there is only one shoe shop in the world that makes me behave in such a fluttery fashion, and that is Rocco’s. He is an old bloke who has devoted his life to creating hand-made pointy wondrousness in all the colours of the rainbow.
This month I spent a fortune on three new pairs. But I prodded a local economy with Rudd’s popularity money, so I am awesome. I like a comfy lace-up winkle-picker, as they make my chicken legs look even thinner and make my feet look much bigger and longer. In that way, I am not so girly-girl.
The red pair in the middle (pictured above) I have had made to replace the old shoes I’ve been wearing since I was a teenager. In all that time I’ve only had ‘em resoled once. Rocco (and now his son) knows how to make a proper shoe. When I was about fifteen, I would sport said winkle-pickers with black jeans and a scruffy jumper with the hole in the cuff I could stick my thumb through. I still wear that exact same outfit right now. Of all the insanity she was wont to blurt, Coco Chanel was right about one thing: why buggerise around with the classics?
I thought that after 19 years it was time to give the beautiful red shoes the hint, although like most Gen Y’s they showed some resistance to the idea and hung around a while longer to finish the last of the milk, mooch off my Internet and slam doors. I had to decide what to do with these old warhorses, and after considering ‘burial at sea’ thought this crafty solution fit the bill:
The last thing you need is a witness when you’re quietly potting your old winkle-pickers in the privacy of your own backyard, but this weekend my medlar-picking neighbours observed me filling them with rooster poo and gently poking drainage holes in them with a meat skewer. A fitting end.
In a final note: Devo has announced the release of their first studio album since 1990 (Smooth Noodle Maps), and released quite a spiffing single Don’t Shoot (I’m a Man).
That’s nineteen years to the minute. Coincidence? I think not.
What did you do with your stimulus package?