A shoe by any other name . . . is another shoe
I am a strong believer in the fact that you can’t really have too many pairs of shoes (the honourable exception to this rule being trainers: in life you need one pair, for running, and that is it). So when …
I am a strong believer in the fact that you can’t really have too many pairs of shoes (the honourable exception to this rule being trainers: in life you need one pair, for running, and that is it). So when I see a pair of shoes that I particularly want to buy, I, well, buy them. Unless it’s that time of the month, a week or so before payday, when I’m haplessly rooting for pennies in my handbag (and yes, I know I’ll never find a penny because we’re in the era of the euro but do we have to be so pedantic?!).
My point is this: shoes are great. No matter how thin (I wish) or not-so-thin I am, they always fit! And, with a little loving care (the odd re-heeling and re-soling, more on which later), they last through thick and thin.
Every now and then I’ll see a shoe that I “must” have, which my mother refers to as my “spoilt side” emerging, although she has no one to blame but herself if I am spoilt in any way, shape or form. And I pursue the shoe like one might pursue a man (or a woman), if one was living in a 1990s pop music video. I stalk the shoe. I search, high up, and low down, for the shoe. The shoe in question, in this instance, being this shoe:
(In the interests of not peppering my blog too much with images of other, more fashionable people, these are Cocorosa‘s feet – but she has a great blog, and wears these shoes a lot, which pleases me much.)
I particularly like this image because the shoes are so elusive, as if they are hiding from me (and you), just out of reach. And out of reach they have been. I did spend quite a while online one day, attempting to find them in my size, with a reasonable shipping rate, and to no avail.
But then today, as I was returning my Dublin Bike to Central Bank and nipping over to Cyclelogical to pick up my own bike, which I am now afraid of leaving anywhere lest someone should steal my basket, I saw a happy little line of Doc Martens, in the window of China Blue.
I’ll be honest: they didn’t have them in my size. But a helpful gentleman informed me that they will have them, in my size, mid-March. Which is but two weeks after my bag arrives, and therefore two weeks after my self-imposed bankruptcy, but I’ll just have to budget better (she tells herself). But tell me this: Doc Martens, are they a do or a don’t? I think they’re a do, but I am sometimes – well, very often, in fact – swayed by fashionable bloggers in far-off places doing fashionable things in their Docs, and I fear I may not have the calves for them. Please advise.