Secret no# 1.
This blog post feels kind of like alcoholics anonymous. I have a problem. And according to AA, the first step is admitting to your problem, so here goes. I have a shoe addiction. And not just a teenage girl, “ooh I love high heels” kind of “addiction”, I mean every kind of shoe (well, except for Crocs…I draw the line at Crocs, they should all be set fire to.)
This problem has, as far as I’m aware always been around, from strutting around in my mum’s only pair of high heels when I was little (her wedding shoes in fact, some classic white courts with a pointed toe – so gorgeous!) to today, where I find myself with an impressive amount of shoes to my name that I deem too precious to even leave the house in.
So there we go, I admitted it. But I’m not really sure I’m willing to get over this problem. I did manage to calm down, the student lifestyle kept me admiring from a far for the first time, until the January sales. January sales are like a fashion girls paradise, where beautiful pieces are like gold dust just waiting to be found. And that’s when they hit me. Casually thrown to the side of the seating area in New Look, some black platform cut out stilettos with a chunky heel. I love a chunky heel. Sigh. And they were in the sale for less than £15.Sigh. And…oh my…. they’re my size. If I ever believed in fate, this was the time. It was a magical moment when I slipped them on, to have them fit perfectly. A complete Cinderella moment in the busy aisles of New Look’s shoe department. I had to have them.
It’s been over a week since my addiction was quenched and much to the dismay of my feet, I’ve been wearing these heels every chance I can get. Drinks with the girls, dancing to Beyoncé in my room, even to Tesco to buy butter. New shoes, as Paolo Nutini sang suddenly make everything right.
And of course, I had to show you the shoes.
