First in a series: what-was-I-thinking shoes
My wardrobe is chock full of shoes that fall into this category.
Let loose on the streets of Montreal one summer's day in 1995, slightly jaded from a late night on the streets at the jazz festival, I hit upon these ridiculous, clumpfest blue suede excuses-for-shoes. And I did wear them, fleetingly, with a pair of faded, straight-legged (oooh, remember?) jeans. I liked the extra height but running for buses was out of the question. In fact, anything other than a leisurely saunter was out of the question.
Who or what can I blame for this purchase?
1. Mr Chick and his absence (he was busy doing the do at a conference - the reason for our trip). He would have said something desperately sensible like: you will never wear them. Don't buy them. I would have sulked for the rest of the afternoon but thanked him (secretly inside my head) later on.
2. The stupendously fantastic exchange rate. I forget, but at the time it was something like five squillion Canadian dollars to the pound.
3. The exotic allure of Buying Shoes In A Foreign Country. Always fall prey to this one.
Anyhoo, still got 'em. Can't part with 'em. Dunno why.