Number 77

Many years ago I was bitten by a bug.  A bug that is exuberant with wordless expression, physical violence and simple acute joy.   These four pairs are leftovers from dreams past.  They are in pretty good condition given what dancers put their shoes and themselves through - brute force wrapped in beauty.

I was never able to follow through completely - injury took that possibility away - but I fill with gratitude for the time I did have in a studio and on a stage.  There was blood, there was sweat, there were tears.  I loved it all.

There are people in my life who share this bug or have seen parts of it in my life.  Thank you to you all.  You know who you are and I know the little smile that is creeping across your face as you think back over everything we have done together.  I am smiling back!

Today, I keep my bug at bay by avoiding it.  Nevertheless, it is a fundamental part of who I am and it is impossible to excise this part of my life from myself.  It will always be my heart, my soul and myself.

Thank you for reading.  I have loved writing this blog and embarrassing myself into acknowledging that I have a distinct shoe problem.  It's been a good lesson in gluttony!  I wonder if I will ever learn.....

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77'th Shoe Eve

So, this is the long and the pink of it: three shoes, 24 hours and lots of questions.  I've had to cram in the last few pairs of shoes because tomorrow I leave the country and technology behind for a short while.  

Squished together before you I present a long legged favourite of mine: witchey-poo meets Paris (not Hilton).  She is a soft black suede that sits just above the knee and dips down at the back.  She's so simple, she's sexy.  I like an understated twinkle in my boot's eye.  The salmon flat was an accident - a remedy to a shopping trip gone blistered.  The pink bootie is delicious.

In 24 hours I will reveal my last shoe, Mistress 77, and then I will leave.  Mistress 77 is my heart.  She is my insides and myself.  I hope you like her.  

I will miss you once you meet her and this blog is complete.  Thank you for reading.

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Australia

Well, what can I say?  I can't legitimately call myself an Australian resident without one pair of well worn Uggs.

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Cream coloured pony

These boots blow my mind.  From their pony hairs to the laser etching, I am drawn in.  High on heeled happiness.  The only aspect that snaps me out of my trance is the clunky heel.  Truthfully though, I'm not sure how any other heel would work.  They are supposed to be a play on cowgirl so it is probable that anything else would be confusing or lack authenticity.

So, I calm the twist in my stomach and go back to the cream dream.  It's amore, for sure.

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Michael Jackson

Hands up who doesn't know how to grab their bits and screech "oWwww!"?  Today's boots are black, tomorrow's are white.  I couldn't help but make the Michael Jackson connection.

My darling hearted friend Marianne and her brother, Mikey do a great MJ rendition.  They clearly practiced a lot. All their moves are slick and their "oWwww!"'s, perfection.  Best of all you can see the "kids" in their eyes.      

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3 brown boots and a wedding steak

There is something deeply cosy about brown.  To me it is the colour of warmth and love.  In Anne of Green Gables, the dress Matthew buys for newly homed orphan Anne is a rich chocolate brown that makes her radiate with gratitude and humility.

Before Queen Victoria f*cked weddings up for the western bridal population, brown was a favoured colour for brides.  She started the trend that blindly prevails today and is embraced by people who are failed by it.  It was only after Queen Victoria wore white that the (non) colour took off as first choice for bridal colour.  The assertion that white has anything to do with virtue is a nonsense and historically incorrect.  I can't help but laugh at the blindness with which white is worn at weddings.  I am a stickler for thought, I do need to chill out and I realise that other people don't see the world the same way I do, but the way I am made means I would lack integrity and find it terribly difficult to forgive myself if I made a blind choice.

I find wedding cakes hilarious, for example.  Few people ever appear to asks themselves "why?", they just blindly trot on ahead, presumably because bride.com told them to do so.  The world according to sheep.  Wedding cakes also have a long tradition, but I guarantee you the vast majority of brides have zero clue.  I like wedding cakes but what happens if the bridal couple are more savoury than sweet type people?  How about cutting a wedding steak?

I have digressed into my own insanity.  I think these things, for sure, but I can also take a deep breath, get out of my own mind and shake it off.  Shaken...... Each of these boots has their own character.  I love that the feminine cowboy boots have their own detachable bling, that the middle pair slouch warmly and the pair to the left are so soft it makes me squeak with happiness every time I put them on (even though they are heel-less amputees).

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three by three

In six days I am leaving the Southern Hemisphere on a shoe buying mission cleverly disguised as a trip to the US and Europe to visit friends.  Actually, I was only supposed to be going to NYC to visit my absolute darling friend Ruth who I miss very much and can't wait to spend time with.  Then, all of a sudden this and that came up and now my trip has turned into an "around the world".  Ce la vie.  I'll just have to go back to NYC to see Ruth again soon.

In order to get through my shoes to the mystical number 77 I have to triple up.  I hope you understand.  Perhaps when I return from my travels I will have another 77 to speak and dream about.

Apologies for the quality of the photo.  My camera simply wasn't playing ball today.  The photo depicts three very different types of shoe:  one peep toed bootie with lazer cut out decoration, pink wedged sandals from Brazil and a peep toed pump with sweet cut leather.  Makes me think of goldie locks and the three bears (Daddy was clearly a cross dresser).

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