One of the most difficult purchases I’ve had recently was to buy an innocent pair of flats. Flat shoes aren’t in my wardrobe vocabulary. Heels, heels, heels, Chucks, heels, heels, jandals, wedges, heels, heels, Vans, boots, heels, sky-scraper heels, trainers, heels, heels, slippers, heels, sandals, heels, heels… etc. of a crap-load of heels.
So when I got a part-time job in retail, I had to reassess my footwear range. As much as I absolutely adore my every colour of the rainbow spectrum range of heels (except blue. Hmmm, time for some stiletto shopping), they couldn’t prop me up for my job that involves a lot of standing. And there is no way that I was willing to jeopardise my relationship with my sky-high pretties.
Off to the shoe store I went and never have I felt so uninspired about the prospect of buying new shoes before because I needed a pair of simple, black, functional, sensible flats. I moped around like a kid being dragged around a shop when they’re going through the ‘I hate buying new clothes’ stage. I just couldn’t justify parting with money on something I wasn’t in love with. I hadn’t worn flats for work since I was a teacher and that was eons ago!
I found a pair, on sale and I bought the heck out of them, because they were the cutest of the sensible Suzies; black, suede, and with a little leather bow. And when I handed over my money, I waited for the game show style lights to flash at the ground-breaking purchase. Nothing. No pomp and bravado for entering this new-chartered territory. Just a bag with a boxed pair of Italian crafted flats waving up at me.
As much as I made a big deal… did somebody say Drama Queen in fabulous pumps? I did it and totally thought of celebrating/commiserating with a cheeky wee cocktail, except it was time to hush those puppies and wear them to work. So that’s me now, the lady in retail looking down at her feet, pretending not to like her shoes.