Shoes

I buy shoes on impulse and quite often abroad. It just seems to happen that way. I have a size 6 or 39, wide feet, high arch, unable to walk in most heels. Pretty feet, but not very dainty.  I sound like a fetishist now, I know. It’s just that when shoes fit and they are comfortable, I feel a strong desire to buy them. Latest acquisition:

Amsterdam, March 2012

Op de Dijk is my favourite shoe shop. It has two locations in Amsterdam and I have bought three pairs there in the last six months. Yesterday I fell in love with these spring shoes. They are soooo happy and comfy, they make me feel as though I’m walking on soft, grass and flowerbeds.

Barcelona, June 2011

 Summer. Sandals. Sale. Instant greed. They so perfectly matched the navy dress I bought earlier. And the bag. And all in my beloved barrío Fontana.

Amsterdam, December 2010

I was miserable, very much so and a friend suggested that buying shoes would make me feel better. That and a pound of Puccini’s finest chocolate did help. The boots are Dutch design, “Dutch Charme”: dark blue suede and velvet with a wonderful little heel. They didn’t relieve the heart ache but they made me feel a whole lot sexier and that was a start.

Istanbul, September 2010

Four times I was in Istanbul, four times I visited the shoe shop Flowers. My friend F. lives in Istanbul and her favourite restaurant is around the corner of this place that sells extreme shoes and boots. Third time’s the charm so last visit I bought a pair of happy pink and white girly flats, with shiny stones on the silvery nose. Last visit I was near the shop again and whilst my friends were looking at the food menu down the road, I was going through the sales section of wild shoe heaven. And again, I bought very loud shoes, with heels this time. Loud seemed fitting for the environment. Friday night in Taksim, the shopping streets are heaving with the hip and beautiful and touristy. Turns out the blue Turkish ones look okay on a Dutch bike too.

Amsterdam, April 2010

Not technically abroad, but an impulse buy anyway, so I reckon they classify. And they are unusual. Orange heels: who can do without? Got them in a second-hand shop for € 20 and I had to promiss to wear them. Because “high heels are good for your legs and bum; they improve your posture; they make you feel like a proper woman and they are just plain sexy,” said the saleswoman. “You may be single but I am not and big women wear fleece and boots too often instead of pretty clothes and heels.” (Let it be noted that I have never worn fleece. Not on the mainland, anyway). So. It appears I have an obligation to all the large women in Amsterdam to go out in pretty shoes as often as I can. “And keep your flat ones in your bag, for the way back.”

London, February 2009

Camden Lock, Camden Market. Oh it took me back at least two decades, although London is much cleaner now. Hip & happening and no grittiness left in the heart of the city where the tourists roam.

I was drawn into a shop by some really kinky boots. I always think I want them but I couldn’t wear outside the house. These, I can. I love that their trainers and girly heels at the same time. I had a sincere bit of internal struggle, because I’d already shopped some and there is a crisis going on, still. But these are very now, and then the lady said: Would it help if I took something off the price? “Yes it would,” said I. Sold. To the woman without a spine.

Liverpool, November 2008

I took an underdressed trip to Liverpool: my coat was too thin and my shoes were too old. I was wearing black lacquer trainers, that I had bought in Barcelona, when my feet ached from wearing my dragon boots all day. Cheap and cheerful they were, with a little daisy on the side. But they were also pretty run down, with the glued seams coming undone. I bought these Baby Phat’s to replace them: 18 euro’s they were and they matched the black jeans I was wearing (same brand). So I buried my Barcelona booties in a Liverpool dumpster and cried a tiny tear. Then I walked off happily in these shiny silvers.