Recently my friend over in England phoned me to tell me her shoe news. This is kind of customary in our friendship, and has happened since we became firm friend’s way back in primary school during a mutual respect for our matching patent leather plimsolls. She works in a high street store and I swear spends her entire lunch break (and salary) on shoes and clothes (can you see why we are such good friends?!).
I settled myself down on the sofa to hear the shoe news. ‘They’re amazing.’ She started. ‘I got them from Harvey Nic’s, they’re Dolce and Gabbana, pink, with fuchsia straps, platform, massive heels. They are my beautiful babies (I could tell she was smiling at this point) my beautiful sitting down to dinner shoes.’
‘Your what?’ I said.
‘My sitting down to dinner shoes,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t walk in them Sophie, but they were too pretty to leave, and are perfect for sitting down in.’
‘Do you have more than one pair of these sitting down to dinner shoes?’
‘Oh yes several, I just get the husband to park as near to the restaurant as possible, then I hobble in, sit myself down and don’t move all night. It’s a chore but the result is these beauties on my feet all night.’
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I thought about this comment for a long time after finishing the phone call with my shoe friend, and wondered about all the women who must do this, after all there are thousands of pairs of shoes out there that are un-walk-able and as women we just can’t resist the delicate straps, the highest of heels. As a self confessed shoe addict I thought back to a few of my own questionable purchases, for example last year around Christmas time I bought an amazing pair of leopard print multiple strapped platform stilettos with shiny black toes. I fell in love with them at first sight and about two minutes later walked out of the shop with them. It was only when I attempted to wear them for a casual shopping trip a few days later that I realised that they not only crushed my toes, dug into the sides of my feet and were excruciatingly high but that they also gave me a blister on the sole of my foot (did you know that could happen?!). After that I had resigned them to the ‘look pretty but too painful to wear’ pile, but with this rather ingenious new piece of wisdom from my shoe friend they could be resurrected for a sitting down occasion.
I decided to share this new knowledge with another of my friends, who I thought was going to be as impressed as I was with the solution for unmanageable heels. She stared at me for a long time after I told her with a huge grin on my face about the SDDS (sitting down to dinner shoes) and explained about being able to wear the dreaded leopard print killers again.
‘Well?’ I said finally, expecting her to be excited as me.
‘What if you need to go to the bathroom?’ she said.