Those tiny pink Barbie stilettos are probably one of my first idea of shoes I wanted on my feet. So much, that stilettos are still my favourite type.
I always liked Mary Jane shoes, but, amazingly, have none. Being a perennial fan of that geek, or librarian chic look, I don’t quite understand why they are not part of my life.
So, let’s spare a thought for this style. This week obsession is… Mary Jane shoes.
Shoes. I just love them. Maybe love is not the right word. I am just obsessed with them. Maybe I should’ve been more clear – this little project is not about any old shoes. It is about heels – needle, chunky, comma, spiky, curvy, platform, wedges, block, straight. Heels are the actual object of my infatuation.
May be I am opening myself to being called a crazy shoe lady and I couldn’t care less – to quote Imelda Marcos, “they went into my closets looking for skeletons, but thank God, all they found were shoes, beautiful shoes”. So there you go.
First of all, I love the way they make me feel. Well, tall, to start with and those 5 foot almost nothing ladies will certainly understand. But they make me feel as if nothing is impossible – you know the “give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world” say? That is right. Nothing is scary in heels – ok, maybe a wet field, going down a mountain, but you know where I am going with this, right? They make me feel happy and more confident. And that’s just on the inside.
My legs look nicer, my posture looks better (ok, orthopedists out there, I know what you are thinking, and frankly, save it!).
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel ugly or insecure in flats. I fell comfortable, alright. In heels, I feel amazing. There is, for me, a weird satisfaction on wearing a fabulous pair of shoes. That’s the reason I decided to document my heels. Most of them, at least. Also, I love looking at them – they are beautiful.
And it gave me and excuse to finally count them. These 90 odd are part of more then 140 pairs of shoes which include flats and boots. Amongst this selection, there are many special ones, like my first pair of Louboutins. Some carry numerous memories. Others, sentimental value; they are more than 12 years old and although I don’t wear them anymore, they are a part of me that came over from Brazil to the UK, and like me, they survived. A few tell tales of boys, usually followed by tales of a heartbreak. It is also a little reminder of pain that we all carry in our live (honestly, there are pairs I only wore once as they butchered my feet!)
Yet, they all tell tales of my life and the person I am – I feel this mosaic is a little patch from a huge patchwork quilt that is me.