Showing posts with label Shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shoes. Show all posts

Tuesday, 3 August 2010

Temptation

Oh my god, it's stunning!  Who is that woman in the mirror? The one with the great legs and the fabulous figure that goes in and out in all the right places.  How can a dress do that?  It was the perfect summer shift dress, the one I've had half an eye out for all summer and here it was in the sale in the local posh frock shop.  It just sort of slipped itself on and fitted like a dream. 


I had come into the nearby small market town for a quick trip to the dentist to fix my loose crown before the wedding in Kent.  I didn't really need a new dress at all, but then who ever does?  There are plenty of previous years' lapses in the wardrobe which would more than cover the occasion, but there's something about a new dress teamed with three inch heels and a pashmina...

So, just a quick trip next door to make an appointment with the spray tan lady - those white legs could certainly do with some help - then back home to do unexpected things to myself, like depilate, exfoliate and moisturise all over, most of which I have managed to get through life quite happily without until now, but apparently crucial to giving the tan a chance to take.  You certainly need time and money in bucket loads to be beautiful, or even in with a chance, I realised.

My partner did a double-take when I walked into the room,  looking for once like the woman we would both like me to be.  Sadly this will not happen very often, as the credit card bill will soon land on the doorstep and the consequences will have to be faced. 

Still, I enjoyed pulling out all the stops for once... and I thoroughly enjoyed my friend's wedding  Sometimes you just have to go for it.

Sunday, 27 May 2007

Staff Parking

The Registrar swept past me into the staff car par, with a brief wave of her hand. I turned and watched her expertly reversing her 25 year old canvas-topped, long-wheel base Land Rover into a free parking space.

She descended briskly from the battered, mud-splattered vehicle, long blond hair swept into a neat chignon, tailored jacket and knee length skirt, pearl studs and necklace, kitten heels tip-tapping on the tarmac.

We stopped for a moment to admire her new wheels. A present, she said, from her husband, ideal apparently for towing a horse box, and she initiated me into the mysteries of double de-clutching and the necessity of always keeping a waterproof hat in the glove compartment in case it rains inside the cab!

"There is nothing" I said, "more stylish than a beaten up old Land Rover. With heels."

Friday, 2 March 2007

Stranded

"I forget to pray for the angels
And then the angels forget to pray for us ...."
Leonard Cohen


My indoor shoes are quite enchanting. Black leather pumps with a small heel, peep toe and two bows perched jauntily on top. I love coming home and slipping my feet into them - so much more civilised than slippers.


I need to change my shoes when I get home because every winter I live stranded in a sea of mud in the depths of the country. To get out of the front door, I have to hop gingerly from one baked clay terracotta tile to another (my make- shift path) until I reach what passes for my drive, but is just a slightly harder mud path that leads to my car. I never actually reach the car without acquiring a rind of mud on my shoes. It is not recommended to leave the back door at all without a pair of Wellington boots in which to schlurp and schlock through what, in summer, is my back garden. I live on the water table on poorly drained clay soil.

The last time I needed indoor shoes, I was 11 years old and a new arrival at my Catholic convent school in Yorkshire. They were truly ugly things - the colour of pea soup and shaped like boats, secured to my reluctant feet with a strap. Together with thick national health glasses, bottle green pleated synthetic knee length skirts and bad hair cuts I, and my fellow pupils, were completely and utterly de-feminised. But I suppose that was the point. Perhaps that is why I am so feminine now. A reaction against so much ugliness and suppression.