By Lucy Sweet
IF you believe everything you read, us girls are supposedly cuckoo about Choos, barmy about Blahniks, and have slavering daydreams about kitten heels.
Yep, women love everything about shoes (Oh, and chocolate, of course. And hot, hunky firemen). Well, I must be missing a chromosome.
While I’ll happily share a Milky Way with a strapping man with a large hose, when it comes to actually shelling out money for sensible, everyday footwear, I get the heebie-jeebies
Oh, I can buy stupid, unwearable, nasty shoes till the cows come home, but sensible shoes remind me of those long Back To School afternoons in Clarks, trying on brown sandals and watching my foot get squished in that measuring machine.
All the joy I usually get from shopping evaporates when I’m confronted with acres of practical black and brown leather. I’d rather buy pipe lagging and pile cream.
As a result the only wearable things Iown are a pair of Converse with enormous holes in the sides and some boots with the soles coming off.
Compo from Last of The Summer Wine may as well be my stylist.
Meanwhile, under my bed, there’s such a huge selection of platforms, glitter wedges, patent slingbacks and custard-yellow monsters that I could single-handedly provide the wardrobe for the Pan’s People Comeback Tour 2007.
So when the sole of my boot started flapping on the stairs the other day like a squeaky rubber chicken, my husband decided to act. ‘I’m going to buy you some new ones,’ he said.
That sentence would probably make most women go weak at the knees, but not me. Boots are a big commitment. You have to wear them all winter, so selecting them is so much more involved than swiping the nearest pair of pounds 5 sequinned pumps off theshelf in a frenzy.
Plus, they fall into the brown and black leather category of dullness, and are also especially infuriating this year because I haven’t been able to find a single pair I like.
At first glance, they all look roughly the same, but then you realise that they either make you look like a Lithuanian hooker or there are so many bells, whistles, zips, buckles and slouchy bottoms on them that you may as well audition for Aladdin.
Soon, I was in boot hell. Regardless of the fact that someone was willing to pay out pounds 100 to kit my flapping, stinky feet out in something fabulous, everything looked wrong.
They pinched, they were too big, they didn’t have my size, they swamped my legs, or they were so tight they wouldn’t fit over my calves.
(Would it kill these bootmaking layabouts to put a bit of elastic in there so that lardy legged ladies can walk down the street without getting deep vein thrombosis?)
It was such a practical shopping trip that all I needed was my mum to do up the buckle for me and ask me if they rubbed at the back.
Eventually, I got so fed up I found the first pair of plain looking boots I could and headed for the till.
They ticked all the boxes. They were black, shiny, ladylike, and so ordinary you wouldn’t remember themif they saved your family from a burning building. “You can exchange them,” said the assistant. “As long as you wear them on the carpet and notoutside.”
The next day, I had an indoor boot/carpet marathon. I paced and paced, examining them from all angles. I realised they were really uncomfortable and I didn’t like them.
In fact, they made me look like a member of the Gestapo.
So after all that I have to brave the High Street again. The never-ending quest continues, and I’m no closer to finding a sensible shoe that fits.
Although, I think I might be a real woman, because instead I’ve seen a great pair of shiny, trashy, polka-dot stilettos that make a chocolate-coated fireman look dull in comparison.
Ok, so they’re not sensible, but they’re a lot more fun than boring boots. And if all else fails, I can always donate them to Pan’s People.
‘My big selection of platforms, glitter wedges, patent slingbacks and yellow monsters could provide the wardrobe for the Pan’s People Comeback Tour’
l.sweet@dailyrecord.co.uk
(c) 2006 Daily Record; Glasgow (UK). Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning. All rights Reserved.