TOES & THE STRAPPY SANDAL CONUNDRUM

Toes, they are strange things.

Like malformed fingers, tentacles of stability, tiny appendages, their canvases ready to be decorated in a bid to prettify their strange appearance. I doubt that anyone has ever claimed them to be their 'best feature'. I paint their ten little nails and on three separate occasions, I have tried a toe ring. But despite my best efforts, I still find them, uninspiring, too exposing and a bit uncouth.

It's such a shame because I find my aversion to toes, to be a great hindrance in my continued quest for a diversified and all encompassing collection of shoes (except for kitten heels - soz). And thus the strappy, barely-there heels, seen on the entire world circa 2017, go largely unworn due to their inherent toe exposure.

I feel it necessary to note here that I don't have bad feet, as feet go. And anyway, I feel like Victoria Beckham put forth a solid case for shoes over the well-being of feet, taking a stand for women-kind, bunions and all. Also see Kim K West and her commitment to a strappy sandal even when perhaps a croc or birkenstock would have been more practical/comfortable and less intrusive/painful. 

During my acquisition of shoes over the years, I've had my fair share of difficulties. Continually choosing aesthetic value over comfort, convincing myself that love can actually make foot shrinkage possible, opting for a bargain over any practical reasoning whatsoever. I have worn shoes that make my feet bleed just from looking at them. I have had shoes that have betrayed me, breaking in the pouring rain, leaving me sodden and trailing a sad sandal still clasped around my ankle (I never leave a shoe behind). I have been tripped up by my own shoes, as a clasp on either shoe caught the other - it took epic stumbles to realise this inbuilt death trap and yes I did continue to wear them...

I hope this illustrates my resilience in regards to my footwear. However, the strappy sandal is that little bit too much, like wearing something low cut with an arse skimming hemline, or a smokey eye with a red lip.

Maybe it's a side effect of being British? The weather being more conducive to year-round wellie boots and combatting chilblains. We're just not used to seeing a whole foot outside of drying in between our toes after a shower. My feet are perma-socked, in that they're permanently in socks. Is it then, that my obvious discomfort, is not that surprising? 

Perhaps it's just me? A quick scroll through instagram tells me that this could strongly be the case. But because I'm not a quitter, I bought a pair of strappy sandals in a resolute attempt to join this foot baring club. I love them - in the box. They are multicoloured, which I must commend myself on, due to exponential wearability. They are also jewel encrusted, which I realise could be mistaken as tacky, but isn't - trust me. The heel height is moderate which again is another practical plus point and they have a double ankle strap which is very confusing to get on but definitely worth it for 'ze look' - see above for rules of style over substance according to V Beckham (but perhaps don't google pictures).

So far, they've remained in the box, but have had numerous outings around my bedroom. We're getting to know each other. I expect it to be quite a lengthy process, but have bought some sparkley, fishnet and striped socks to ease the transition. I'm estimating that I'll be ready sans socks just in time for the annual three days of summer. And you'll have to take my word for it, as wearing a naked foot is one thing, photographing it is quite another... 

(Picture: Pinterest & Unknown)

MY JOURNEY - A T-SHIRT

Just like denim anything, or a leather jacket, a t-shirt is a staple of any wardrobe. Whether plain, printed, motifed, sloganed or cropped, a t-shirt is a stalwart to be layered over or under, worn to the gym, to bed, on a night out out, a night in, to work, to clean in, to have fun in, to slope around in, befitting all manner of moods, adventures and non-adventures. An outfit that requires no effort, no thought, no drama. The nondescript staple easily overlooked, but often the cornerstone of many a great outfit; a canvas of sorts, an emblem of nonchalance.

 

It was during one of my infrequent 'clear outs' that I noticed an apparent shift in taste, my wears 'then' and 'now', my progression of what I like and what I liked. And it was most notable in the white t-shirts that I have amassed of late, none of which possessed the scoop neck of yore. Despite my 2016 self actually living in low cut tees, the slouchy vibe is just not as practical for day-to-day life in almost permanent sub zero temperatures. I used to feel that they spoke of comfort and ease and framed my layered strands of necklaces with an insouciance revered by all as that 'French girl thing'. However, my current 'me' favours a slightly boxy fit with a crew neckline. 

Perhaps it's my age (groan, eye-roll), but no longer do I enjoy looking a bit 'un-done', the peek of a bra brings a rouge to my cheeks now rather than a twinkle to my eye. I see it as a sign of sartorial growth. My proclivity no longer lies in the oversized t-shirt, worn as a half tuck, now they neatly reach waist band level and are of a more fitted ilk. And there's this thing called forethought that seems to speak more loudly to me the older I get. Living in the UK requires a heat tech vest - permanently. Previously, I may have ignored the draft about my cleavage, whistling down and around my stomach and encircling my back. Now baring anything other than my right hand to exchange money for my morning coffee, sends a literal chill that reverberates about my whole entire body.

Yet, this is not the only reason for my new t-shirt proclivity. It speaks of a classic-ness, up there with breton stripes and red lipstick. The clean aesthetic is smart, chic, no fuss, wear with anything, anywhere, even to work. Though admittedly I do save them for casual Fridays, there is something about pairing a crew neck with a smart pair of straight legged, cropped black trousers and a blazer. A smart/casual look that, with the switch out of brogues with white trainers, can transition to weekend wear, or alternatively pair with a stiletto for after work drinks.    

And so my new fondness for the neatly fitted tee has begun. And though the premise of a clear-out is to actually clear out, I feel this a safe enough space to admit that my proclivity for a crew neck does not seem to be slowing down. Oh well, you can never have too many white t-shirts...right?

(Images via: Pinterest)