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Shoes are more than just coverings for our feet. They have a special place in their lives, which is why we love them - from kinky boots to sexy sandals. Below are some thoughts on this. See the Shoe Gallery for photos of rare and interesting examples of the breed. Send us yours, and tell us why they're special!
November
What
is it about shoes?
Men laugh at us, but there is no denying that shoes cast a magic spell over a lot of us girlies. Why is this? What is it about shoes – as opposed to any other item of apparel – that has such power? We’ve begun a list of reasons here, but we’d love to hear what you think so email us with yours!
 | Even if you have ankles like gourds, there is a style that will flatter you. |
| Even when the rest of you looks like old porridge, your feet can still look good. |
| Feet don’t get varicose veins. |
| Even when your feet are a disgrace, you can cover the nasty toenails/bunions/cracked heels with a beautiful shoe and no one will know. |
| Feet don’t get cellulite. |
| There’s no liposuction for feet. |
| Even ordinary feet can look glamorous in the right shoes. |
| Shoes are an essential item for anyone not housebound or Anna Nicole Smith, and they wear out, so you have to keep buying them. |
| Feet have far less angst associated with them than, say, thighs or upper arms or chins. |
| When the thought of seeing yourself in a changing room mirror is enough to make you weep, you can still go shoe shopping and feel good. |
| There is an endless variety of lovely styles so we don’t get bored. |
| Shoes are transformative – they can make you taller, sluttier, more sophisticated, powerful. |
THE SHOE OF
SALVATION
SHOE: Look at me. Am I not wonderful?
LADY: You are the most wonderful shoe in the world. I fall to my knees and weep with pleasure when I am with you.
Pause
LADY: You are BEAUTY. You are TRUTH. In you I find my SALVATION.
SHOE: Thank you. You are a nice lady.
By Andrew Monkton. Thanks to Sue for this Shoe Story.
October
Of course I blame her
completely. My Grandmother always told me, ‘Do not wear the same shoes on
two consecutive days’. Somehow I must have heard “two years”. Looking at my
collection of shoes, I have certainly acquired enough. Firstly I use the
word “acquire” because it doesn’t sound as bad as “buy”. Also, it has
nothing to do with me, but rather seems to be a pact between my feet and the
shoe shops.
Sadly, it is not any old high street shoe shop, but those which sell the unusual and at unusually high prices.
There I was in St Ives, Cornwall, last week, minding my own business, doing some sketches, when suddenly my feet took a sharp left turn and then a quick right. I went through a doorway, and when I looked down I had the most amazing, bizarre pair of “to die for” suede ankle boots stuck on my feet.
It was only by paying for these divine boots that I was able to get them off.
Trust me, my feet have complete control of the purse!
I have had a love
affair with shoes since my first pair of highly polished patent leather
button straps were given to me aged 8.
They were so shiny I could see my face in them. When not on my feet they were supposed to be hidden in a dark box with shoe trees shoved into them, but once the bedroom door was shut I would fetch the shoes, put them on my bedside table and dream of wearing them fulltime.
Boarding
school was dire in many ways, including the shoe stakes—nasty, smelly gym
shoes ugh! Hockey boots—double ugh!
Brown leather T-strapped sandals, impossible to look at but with these I did try to elevate them to “desirable object” status. I painted them with bright poster paints. It took ages but they were a joy to look at—bright green and yellow with bright blue straps.
Sadly the paint dripped through the holes and stuck them to my ghastly socks. This didn’t help my case when the Nun on duty demanded that I remove “the offensive footwear”. Shoes and socks came off together… exposing spotty feet.
Discovering
high heels...such joy, the curve of the heel and how elegant one’s legs
looked. And the wiggle they give to one’s bottom.
Then reality struck: babies! I couldn’t really push the pram tottering on expensive high heels, looked a bit silly trying to play football. But all was not lost, as I needed shoe boxes to make toys for the boys—Action Man’s bedroom, Tracy Island, that sort of thing.
As far as I know you can’t buy empty shoe boxes. If you can, DO NOT tell me. So you see, I bought shoes out of necessity as the boys needed boxes.
Now I have the shoe boxes all to myself. Gorgeous shoe boxes covered in flowers, plastic see-through boxes—these do cut down the time spent in searching for the right shoes.
I have made calico shoe bags for when the shoes travel. They like to be cosseted at all times. Going away is a huge problem: will I need 6 pairs or 8? If going by car, then the only problem is how to get 10 pairs of shoes into it without being seen!
I do have boring, functional shoes for cycling in, orange jelly clogs for gardening, paint-spattered Mary Janes for when I am being an artiste.
I try really hard to be good. I warn my feet when we are in danger of passing a shoe shop, but suddenly doors open and with a swoosh there I am handing over my credit card once again
The real irony is that I am always barefoot in the house.
Go to www.janjansen-stives.co.uk if you want to drool!
