Coco goes country

These boots are a great idea in principle but I have found them difficult to style in practice.  I have a suspicion that they are trying to serve too many masters.  All I can think of when I see them is CC styling meets country.  The cream suede is delicious, the black patent leather is too, with its sharp edges but soft scalloped finished.  Can you see what I'm saying - a little all over the place.

When I picked them up I was out shopping with a dear friend on Melbourne's Brunswick Street.  I was in love immediately.  I spoke to a friend this weekend actually about how women are attracted to shoes.  She made a comment that she knows when a shoe is for her when it speaks to her.  I agree, there is a recognition inside each of us that is inexplicable, very real and sometimes quite impractical.

I wouldn't say these lovelies are totally impractical but I do feel slightly schizophrenic when I wear them, which is a shame because every time I look at them I see glamour and think chic!  This photo really doesn't do them justice.  In person they are quite glorious.  Perhaps that is the problem, my clothes simply fail to live up to these boots' glory.  

x

Sunshine Sunday and the perfectly matched hat

I've always wanted to be a hat person, but never pulled it off particularly well.  Apart from being mildly disappointing, it never mattered until I met Melbourne mid horse racing season.  Wow, I don't know what else to say except "Wow, y'all need to chill".

Good on them, I suppose, it's good to have a passion but the importance of Melbourne's passions often acquires an importance that is up there with breathing.  Heaven forbid anyone who doesn't agree without question and share their passion.   The funny thing is that a couple of the coolest people in the world I know live there amongst all this angst.  I've concluded that it's because they are in the flow so can relax and just go with it.  I love the Melbourne I know on holiday and can imagine that if I were ever "in the flow" then living there full time would be just like the fabulous experience of visiting.

In any event, I bought this hat for the Melbourne Cup a few years ago.  I even like it and it matches perfectly with my shoes for today, given to me by the dazzlingly sunny and lovely, Daniela.  So, thank you Melbourne for shoving me down and harassing me into buying a hat and thank you, Daniela for picking a pair of shoes that would match so well.

Sunshine Sunday here I come........

x

A clog blog

How is it that a type of shoe traditionally worn by workers as protective clothing in factories, mines and farms has entered and re-entered mainstream and high end fashion so many times?  My first encounter with a clog was when I attended Wellington Girls' High School in New Zealand.

Our uniform was something that only sarcasm can do justice to:  teal all over with black and gold interspersed.  An "interesting" choice.  In fact, who the heck made that choice?  Who is responsible for the travesty that is school uniforms?  Why is it necessary to create hideousness where none is required.  It seems to me that the job description for school uniform designer must include:  "the applicant must possess the special ability to make a daisy look like a toad, and have special qualifications in poor taste."

In any event, I would have been about 14 at the time and clogs came on my radar.  We were allowed to wear black shoes as I recall and I had a constant battle with my mother to find shoes that were "sensible" and "for school", yet made me feel like a had a personality larger than an ant.  Clogs were it.  I acquired my first pair and was temporarily much happier.

These are somewhat different to the clogs I wore at school but somehow they pull super chic out of what used to be a blue collar staples.  I suggest that whomever was responsible for making clogs cool should next turn their hand to school uniforms.


x

A little happy

It has been three days since an enormous earthquake tragically struck Christchurch, New Zealand.  A terribly sombre and shocking time for people like myself who are themselves far away but with dear friends and family in the region.  I cannot even begin to imagine what these past few days have been like for those who lived through the experience and are grappling with the consequences now.

Christchurch, you kindly housed me for seven years, while I studied, worked and met some of the best people I have ever known.  Some of them are still there and, while you and I weren't a match made in heaven, I love going back to visit them from time to time.  I am so dreadfully sorry that you are suffering and hope today's post can bring you a little something to lighten the mood.

One of our issues, Christchurch, is we often misunderstood each other when it came to fashion.  I felt like a drag queen in a country choir most of the time.  In light of that, I have a suspicion that these shoes might give you a laugh.  Can you imagine these tottering around the Square, clambering up the Port Hills or wafting up and down the Strip?  Go on, you know I'd do it.  I'm really quite happy to be your clown today if it can make some of you smile, even for a moment. To me, these shiny red frayed ladies are fun and exaggerated in the best possible way, but I'm happy to be your joke any day of the week if it brings you a little "happy".

My love and wishes for everything good are with you all.

x

A pause for Christchurch

This isn't my shoe.  It's just a shoe with a New Zealand flag on it that google found for me.  It's a little tribute to all of the people of Canterbury who endured a horrific earthquake yesterday and are now facing the clean up, aftershocks, and most frightening of all, the burial of their friends and family.

I am so sorry to you all.  A truly tragic day.  It is agonising watching your pain, helpless from afar.   Be assured that, though I'm far away, I'm thinking of you with the utmost compassion and best hopes for you all.

I have no stomach to blog about shoes in light of what you have been through.  Much love to you all.

x

Karmic tomato

A few years ago, I spent Christmas in Taipei with Sanchia and her daughter, Cueba.  That's C.u.EEEE.b.a to those who knew her when she was learning to spell.  We had spent the day out of Taipei in an unpronounceable place by the sea.  It was beautiful and quirky, much like the rest of the Taipei I saw during my stay.

I hadn't been buying much as, being a Euro giant, it was too depressing selecting Asian sized garments.  Shoes on the other hand were fine.  Mostly.  It was nearly the end of the day and Sanchia spied them first.  Unfortunately, they didn't have her size and I recall her making comments about small Asian sizing as we had day after day about the clothes.  My mind retaliated like it was a challenge.  I was going to fit into those kooky shiny shoes no matter what.

Keeping my face as calm as possible, I slipped my foot into my usual size and announced that it was too big and that I wanted the half size down.  My inside voice at this point was saying "are you kidding me?"  I squished myself into the smaller size and declared them a perfect fit.  They weren't, but they are do-able.  Honestly, I'm not sure I'll ever mature.

Afterwards, we celebrated by buying strawberry sticks: pink sugar coated strawberry kebabs to be more precise.  I'll never forget getting to the end of my stick.  I can see the whole thing in slow motion:  I was raising the stick of deliciousness to my mouth as Cueba looked quizzically at me and said "that doesn't look like a strawberry", but I was committed, the stick was going in, my teeth clenching down, my face turning from bliss into horror, Cueba's face lighting up from confusion to uncontrolled laughter as we both realised the truth at the same time.  A treacherous sugar coated tomato was on the end of my stick and I had just squished it into my mouth!

YUCK!  It was awful.  I was so unprepared for that.  I had been expecting strawberry deliciousness within the pink sugar casing to round off the whole experience but that was simply awful.  I can only put it down to the universe knocking me off my high shoe-horse of earlier in the day.  I have never heard a kid laugh as much as Cueba did at me.  Fair call, it was pretty funny.

x

Cocktails and snakes

I bought these shoes years ago on a visit to London.  My dear friend Ruth had moved there fairly recently and was dating a French guy who, at the time, I oscillated between nick naming the "frog" or the "toad".  Nothing was clear at the time but now it's safe to say the right label was the "frog" because he turned out to be her great love.  I'm not saying "the other word" because it's just too much at this time in the morning (or ever). 

Ahem, back on track.  Ruth is a shoe diva.  I love her style, her intolerance of boring and simple demand that anything that goes on her feet is perfect.  Her approach is simple and effective.  Before she moved to London some of our favourite things to do together were drinking cocktails and decompressing after long days and shopping (in general but especially for shoes).

Don't mis-judge me, I have my own style, but I am inspired by the people around me.  These shoes remind me of her and, to be honest, I'm not clear that I would have bought them if I hadn't been with her.  Needless to say I am absolutely delighted that I did.  They are fun without being silly, sexy without venturing into hookerville and practical without being dowdy.  They took me into a realm of shoe-dom I wouldn't have known without her.  Who could ask for more?

So, thank you Ruth and happy birthday for today.  I can't wait to shop with you very soon in your new home, NYC.  Your global homes are very good for my wardrobe.

x

Computer-less and Sanchia-full

My sincere apologies.  Over the last few days I have been without my computer.  Damned thing ran out of power because the charger died.  Computer says no = no posts for you over the past couple of days.

Lucky for me, Sanchia Peace Kumalija has been visiting and kept me entertained when technology failed me.  Sanchia is more than a substitute for a power cord.  She is a vision of fun, grace and smarts.  Sanchia reminds me of who I want to be in this world.

We've had a great few days exploring this lovely city of Sydney, sharing some of our favourite things and just being together, being great friends.

I'll be back on shoe track tomorrow.  I promise.

x

Lothario and Sharon Stone

A few years ago I met a guy online by accident.  He popped up in the then equivalent to Skype and started talking to me as if we were the best of friends.  Turns out it was a mix up but in the course of working that out we both became intrigued.

It was fun.  He was quite fascinating and over time his charms drew me in.  He was a retired footballer from the UK.  Turns out the cliches are true: he was a quintessential Lothario with quite a reputation with the ladies.  I have no doubt you can work out how that turned out.

Interestingly, the year we met he had a small part in a movie with Sharon Stone, the ultimate man eating "dom".  In the movie he took a different role in his relationship with her: she drew him in, took what she wanted and tossed him aside.  Ouch!

These shoes remind me of a pair she wore in that movie.  Mine aren't black or shiny like those worn by Ms Stone's character but they are saucy with their multiple buckles and criss crossing leather.  I won't be copy-catting her character's conduct but I will have fun in them today!

x

Only human

I'm whipping out another boring pair of shoes today.  I have no excuses.  They are a black combination of patent and matte leather and nothing about them says "wow".  I bought them on a strange whim when I thought that being "sensible" was justification for my choice.  It's not and I'm clearly not sensible. 

Sensible and staid.  Why bother?  I can't imagine.  I really can't see the point of it all.  Why choose something that at best makes you do this:

When you have the option of choosing something that makes you do this:

It's a mystery and frankly quite exhausting.  Choice is a funny thing.  I find that surprisingly often people don't realise that maintaining a not so nice status quo is a choice they elect every time they choose not to avail themselves of something better.  The choices made in maintaining the status quo or for going for something different each have consequences for which they are responsible.  No excuses.

I'm responsible for this strange choice.  It's not my status quo but it was a choice.  Odd.
x

What Sanchia thinks of...............

Tonight I showed Sanchia my closet.  My dear sweet admirable annoying friend has arrived.  She feels like home.  I can't believe she's here except she keeps on pinching me so okay, I believe it.

She went through my closet tonight and expressed two things: a desire to clean up and that I should wear these loves today.  Sanchia is right, I haven't been all that scientific in my approach to filing away the shoes that I have worn through this shoe odyssey.  When she peered into my wardrobes this evening she saw at the front a mass of shoes already worn.


The shoe love yet to be revealed is truly hidden.  Hidden beneath a mass of repetition, a mass of gluttony and fun.  It's fun but it's also a little awful.  These shoes are another example of my shame.  When I bought them I was in "acquisition mode".  I didn't think about what would happen after I had released them from their shelf prison.  I only thought of amassing more.  On the one hand that is bad but on the other I now realise that they suit me better than they did when I was in that insane state.  

I am so glad I am going through this blog journey.  Today I am wearing a pair of shoes that, but for the blog, would have been relegated to nothingness.  In contrast, they are making Sanchia think of, and I quote:  "the tropics, Jamaican men getting changed, muscular, smooth chested doctors with sweat dripping off them."

Who would have known a pair of shoes could conjure such thoughts?  It must be the shell.

xx  

Oh dear

I am sorry to report a death in the family.  Yesterday I rescued from disuse, dust and lack of daylight a pair of beautiful old ducks from my ancient past.  Somewhere between putting them on and walking to my car I remembered why they were disused, dusty and lacking in daylight.  The slingback curse - beautiful and glamorous, yes, wearable, no.

Ah, I just don't have the right shaped feet for slingbacks.  I only need take four or five steps and the damned strap falls down.  I loved but lost patience for yesterday's honey bee a long time ago.  To the eBay graveyard they go.

So today I had to find some mourning shoes with an absurdly delighted "welcome to Sydney" twist as one of my favourite people in the world is coming to visit today.  In fact, she's in the air right now and about to land on these fair shores.  So, what says R.I.P. and "hello my darling Sanchia" better than a vamped up frilly stiletto?  I can't think of anything.

x

Justifying my love

I bought these shoes nearly one decade ago.  All of a sudden I feel justified in amassing such a large number of shoes.  It was my first job in law and somehow I had found myself in Wellington, New Zealand rushing about after a bunch of barristers.  To blow off steam I went shopping.

Wellington is a lovely city and my home town.  It doesn't feel like home anymore - I left nearly 15 years ago - but, it still makes me smile and is home to some of my favourite people.  Wellington is relaxed and quirky, has style without arrogance and on a clear day is really quite special.

After a long day of killing trees and trying to stay awake through another festival of yawning (also known as "a hearing") I was actively seeking a distraction.  Shoes were an easy win and in my dour state I was immediately drawn to the light, leather and mass of colour that can only be found in a shoe shop.  As my eyes fell on this pair I went from black to sunshine in seconds.  They are beautiful.

x

Say "no" to SWJ

These canvas kids are perfect for those occasions when you're recovering from the night before, still want to do something and look respectable doing it but the thought of any effort being required get's the big "no thanks".

Also, this genre of shoe is the appropriate alternative to sneakers.  Sneakers are for the gym, and only the gym.  They are not appropriate for wearing with jeans or, perhaps even worse, suits on the way to work.

I have a huge bug bear with the inappropriate usage of sneakers.  I see beautiful women, well dressed and lovely until I look down and see what I can only liken to a giant wart on each of their feet.  They ruin the aesthetic completely with this odd practice of pairing gym shoes with ordinary outer wear.

It's careless and lazy.  Especially when equally comfortable but less horrendous alternatives are readily available.  Sneakers with jeans are not okay.  Ever.  It's just not right!!!

x

Dress ups

Tonight I get to play my favourite game: dress ups!  As you know, my motto is that every day is an excuse for costume and creativity but a themed party where I am encouraged to exaggerate?  Pass the smelling salts, I'm about to swoon.

It's all about the 80s tonight.  Instantly, I'm picturing myself in middle America, clutching at my big haired bangs and waiting for someone called Chip or Chuck or Randy to arrive in a white suit.  What did middle America wear to the prom in the 80s?  I've done a little research and taken guidance from movies like Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and Back to the Future.  Their M.O. appears to be bright bright bright with a bit of fluro here and there.

These pink ladies are among the brightest shoes in my wardrobe and will clash perfectly with the bright blue bubble dress I found when rummaging through Grandma Takes a Trip, an amazing vintage and uber cool Op Shop in Surry Hills.

Once I get big hair and bright make up organised, it'll be a really fun evening!

x

Sticking it to the man, shoe styles

These ladies have history.  I bought these in my first year of law school, many moons ago.  I had already completed one year of University so was familiar with campus, exams and the whole Uni vibe.  What I was not prepare for was the oddly separate School of Law.

All of the students, including myself, had a sense of pride in attending law school.  There's a peculiar mystique about it that, of course, I discovered later is conjured out of absolutely nothing.  But at the time we all went along with it.  Some, however, got carried away.  Entering the library could be like stepping back in time: stiffness, oddly conservative dressing to the point of warped nun-ish-ness and don't you dare even consider speaking above a whisper.  The atmosphere was rife with competition that today both sickens me and makes me laugh.

At the time it was intimidating.  I knew I had to mess with it.  That sort of atmosphere is just asking for it.  I wasn't going to turn up my collar, wear moleskins and moccasins and whisper with these snobbish freaks - who the hell were these conservative little twerps?  Determined not to become one of them (and be seen not to) it I came across these.  Ah, my private resistance against "boring".

I guess I was to law school what Helena Bonham Carter is to a red carpet.  Hopefully with more aesthetic success.

x

Today, a poem (boring shoes)

I whisper to myself in a dream
The memory comes back as an echo
A clear and unbroken mirage of sound
that entices my wandering ears to hear

I touch my face, only for a moment, but the sensation is felt for many
It is the same with love; it may touch you for only a moment
but is remembered, always

x

AUD OCD

At the height of my online shopping craze, my desire for beautiful things was absorbed with the benefits of the strong Australian dollar on my increasing foreign purchasing power.  At one point I had more than 10 separate orders from 4 different English and US websites dispatched and in transit on their way to me.  Can you now see why I tend to slink past the mail guy and front desk ladies?  

The "funny money" I used didn't seem real.  It was a click and not coins or notes that delivered my pretty packaged things.  Somehow marketing nerds had captured my interest to a point that they had disconnected the pain of purchasing from the pleasure.  I was hell bent on accumulation.  It really was AUD OCD.

I made decisions in cyberspace that I wouldn't have made in the flesh.  I am not saying that I dislike some or any of my purchases.  It's more that my decision making was softened by the disconnection from reality.

This is one such example.  I was first quite legitimately drawn to the shoes: lovely rounded toe, interesting pattern, good brand, sweet detailing, great height..... But as I went to click "Pay Now" my screen suggested I check out the matching dress.  Same deal.  Great pattern, good brand, sweet detailing, good shape..... I added it to my cart and noticed a matching bag.  I'm sure you can imagine what happened next: I noticed the pattern, brand, detailing etc.  Oh, and the scarf to complete the set.

What the hell did I need an entire matching set for?  When my package arrived I realised the truth: individually these items are great but together they are a nightmare and mash of "too much" that should be worn separately.  The only items I would have bought individually are the shoes and the dress.  The bag and scarf, eh, no.

This exercise of giving my 77 shoes a "fair go" has really helped to slap me around enough to see that I possibly did go a little too far.  My bank account and I thank you for reading!

x

A Wedding in Brazil

I still hadn't recovered from my jet lag when I attended my first Brazilian wedding.  Delirious with heat, up, down and round the bend from excessive sleeping pill usage to get through the flight, then excessive alcohol usage to celebrate arriving, I placed these babies on my feet and inserted myself into my dress to attend my dear friend Daniela's sister's wedding in a little town called Bauru, a few hours north of Sao Paulo.

I had no idea what to expect and I find it very difficult to explain what ended up happening.  Brazilians are like no other culture I have ever encountered - life is fun without hang ups, plain and simple - I adore them!

The wedding started at 9pm.  The bride, Aline, was lovely in crisp white and obviously in that slightly delirious happy state you'd hope her to be in.  The ceremony was all in Portuguese but that didn't take away from the loveliness of the occasion for the English only speakers in the congregation.  A part of the service I especially enjoyed was the procession of couples who joined Aline and her groom on the podium.  I counted more than 10 couples all standing in support of the about to be married couple.  It conjured a sense of community, kindness and relaxation that can be sorely lacking in our sometimes painfully Euro-stiff ways of doing things.

Right after the ceremony all of the guests drove to the reception, were plied with drinks and offered an array of South American dishes.  The bride and groom arrived as my eyes grew wide at my first sip of the sweetest wine I have ever tasted and could never have imagined prior to tasting.  All pretty normal so far.  The only peculiarities I might have pointed out at this point would have been the beyond sweet wine and that the kids and the old people were up a bit late.  It was 10:30pm by this time.

By 10:34pm I was enjoying a pretty good conversation in broken English with Daniela's friends and just relaxing into the occasion.  I really don't know how to properly describe what happened next because my head just about exploded with surprise.

Elvis arrived.  He came with smoke, rhinestones, a lot of sequins and a very loud singing voice.  If that wasn't enough, the entire seated area immediately emptied - young, elderly, crippled and healthy lurched for the dance floor, grabbing at the feather boas, sequined glasses, pom pom headbands and strings of beads being thrown into the air.  All of a sudden this demure and polite dinner had turned into an absolutely enormous mass of colour, dancing, laughing, silliness and fun.

My mind felt like it was about to go "boom".  I LOVED IT!  I still feel that way.  I can't even think about the whole experience without holding my breath.  I loved the celebration of the ridiculous, the lack of ceremony, the lack of "proper conduct", I loved that everyone just embraced one another, embraced Aline and her new husband, embraced the fun of the night with absolutely no rules, and embraced these silly foreigners standing around with their jaws on the ground.  It was insane in the best possible way.  Aline had wanted to capture a Carnaval theme.  She more than succeeded.

I barely understood a word of what was going on the entire time but had the time of my life.  These shoes carried me through the entire night with sparkle and a smile.  The crowds didn't start departing until well after 4am, I think we ended up getting home just as the sun was coming up.  I was on such a natural high that I didn't sleep for a full 36 hours.  Why sleep when there is that much fun to be had?

x

Vamp shoe Monday

I like a shoe that says "meow".  No need to go anywhere near hooker-ville but a little minxing never hurt anyone.  In a costume filled life a shoe that purrs adds to the overall femininity.  Delicious.

The patent leather and buckles are off-set by the crisp black, white and olive colours.  I can't decide which of these attributes compels me the most.  Perhaps it's the combination itself.  I can't imagine these shoes working in any other way but I love them as they are.

x

Changeable Sunday

This morning the temperature is going to top 40 degrees.  Early this afternoon the temperature is going to drop by around half to the low 20s.  How the hell is a girl supposed to dress for those kinds of ups and downs?  We're told that denim is the ultimate in versatility.  Today I need it.

I'm not a big jeans fan but these denim wedges are just plain cute.  Comfy too.  With their closed toe, contrasting colours and rope trim they turn what could be a very boring mid height wedge into something wearable.  They are also open enough for the heat but closed enough not to freeze my toes off when the cool change comes.

Perhaps the denim myth is true.  They just might be versatile enough to cope with the heat and the cold.

x

No cake for me

These shoes are a little kooky but I kind of like them as a very casual day shoe.  The truth is, it's the kookiness that makes me like them at all.

As you may know from previous posts I am in no way naturally drawn to non high heeled shoes.  When I look to buy them it's like looking for a needle in a haystack because finding a pair I actually like is near impossible.  So I settle for those I half like.  That in itself is an effort because spending money on these rather than something beautiful is such a disappointment.  When it comes to wearing them I simply do not feel like myself.

I have rationalised the explanation for wearing these non heeled amputees as sensible, saving my feet and comfortable yadda yadda yadda.  But to me, every day is an opportunity for a costume party.  It's part of the joy of living.  I simply can't understand not playing dress ups each day.  My brain goes "fizz" at the concept.

In my world, wearing flat shoes is like taking away a little kid's birthday cake.

Sheesh, being "sensible" is exhausting.

x

Me-freakin-YEOW!

These shoes spin me round round baby, right round, so damned fast I just about loose my ability to speak.  My eyes flash with decadent delight the moment I see them and my insides beam with elation.  From the silky licorice black leather to the hand painted wooden soles, this is shoe love.  Hot and heavy.

Everything about them is strong and feminine.  The stitching and styling has a deliberate quality, as does the utterly delightful marriage of rich colours.  I feel Amazonian when I wear them.  Apt, because I bought these beautifully made Madams in Brazil last year.  It had been a long shopping day in very hot and humid weather.  I forgot my fatigue the second I saw them and walked out of the shop, these shoes in hand, unimaginably high.

Every so often serendipity strikes and I meet something or someone just perfectly matched for me.  These are truly glorious moments.  I relive the serendipitous occasion when I first met these shoes every time I catch a glimpse of them in my wardrobe or, like today, take them out for a spin.

x

Shoe shields

Once upon a time I worked for a beautifully coiffed and groomed woman with a marvellous array of footwear.  Interestingly, whenever she had a big or difficult meeting, she would appear in very elegant, very high and very high end shoes.  To my recollection, she never wore them to work otherwise.  They only came out when something big was going down.  Footwear as armour?
I do not treat these puppies as armour, but, for some reason they often remind me of her when I put them on.  It's probably a combination of the brand, the height and the odd sense of my own power I feel when I wear them.  I don't mean negative or harmful power, I mean that solid feeling of feminine power within myself that comes from just feeling good.
x

Orphan disco

I was surveying my shoes last night, scanning the array of colour before me and wondering what shoe might go with a heat wave?  It is very toasty warm in Sydney at the moment.  When I was driving home last night at around 5:30pm my outside temperature gauge read 44.5 degrees.

These shoes make me think retro styling, dancing queens and disco fever.  A tenuous connection with the hot hot hot weather but one my brain chose to make when I spied them hidden beneath the flood of colour at the bottom of my wardrobe.

These pretty sweethearts, who did nothing to deserve it, are wardrobe orphans.  They have only been on one outing.  I am ashamed.  They may be black based but the shape and gold detailing scream fun.  I have neglected them when I should have shown them the world.  Today will be different.

x

A cream bee-line

A dear friend of mine who I have known since University is a marvel with mid-height heels.  I'm a quintessential extremist whereas Claire has complete mastery over moderation that exudes style.  I admire it very much.

Sanchia is credited with breaking me into flat shoes.  I wear them but they still do not sit quite right with me.  I can't seem to shake my wariness of them.  Claire, on the other hand, is credited with making me actually embrace mid-height heels.

I discovered these particular shoes on her cousin's feet several years ago.  Since grudgingly accepting flats into my wardrobe, I had been curious about the mid height heel and Claire's ability to make it work when all of a sudden I was surrounded by Blackmore women.  Cousins, sisters, aunts.  The works.  All emitting a kind of understated feminine chic.

My eyes immediately looked down to a sea of mid height heels.  Was this the panacea of comfortable femininity?  A mid-height heel.  Huh.  I felt like a light had gone on and immediately resolved to find myself a pair.

It took me some time, several months and two nations in fact, but I found these cream ladies.  My eyes are not naturally drawn to a mid height heel so I found browsing difficult.  When I recognised these from Claire's cousin's feet all those months ago I knew I had found my very first mid-height heel.

x