Foot Fetish

February 20, 2013

At 16, girls graduate to the infamous pumps, and the insatiable need for work shoes will justify the price tag, but not the absence of Yves – to which I say: why are they called pumps?

It is around this time each season that Fashion Week depression sets in. Not over the late nights slaving over articles and runway photos. Not over the overwhelming concentration of impractical clothing in one cross-street of one city. Not even over show security guards who have been instructed to respond to all patrons with the worst possible attitude made available by Fashion Week divinity. This spilt milk sob session is about the streetstyle scene – that is, the process of browsing Tommy, Nam and Phil‘s shots of current season Ready-to-Wear and accessories stepping out of sexy black cars, then looking at the contents of the dented suitcase you’ve been living out of for the past three weeks.

Indeed, every pair of shoes I brought with me, and even the pair I bought in New York, are black, but I’m certainly not all too excited by my feet while talking to them in the presence of Hamish Bowles (yes, I did nearly smack him in the face with my elbow backstage at Burberry’s show yesterday). You could say, then, that the fleeting stop by NET-A-PORTER’s NYC offices, gave me a whole new perspective on the world from the ground up. I have enough black staple shoes, Mother (and am fawning over another pair). It’s time for a spring in my step. Go away, Australian winter.

And just like that, we turn a corner, and continue skyward for at least five and a half inches, on the debate as to whether or not shoe statements are worth the bank statement:

As much as the textile is as far from my personal style as you can sprint, Miu Miu sequins seem to get away with all sorts of flat exception mischief: namely, sneaking their way into outfits where turquoise blue does not belong without too much question aside from that of a boyfriend or sartorially disinterested brother. At 16, girls graduate to the infamous pumps (though I never did), and the insatiable need for work shoes will justify the price tag, but not the absence of Yves – to which I say: why are they called pumps? Ought we fist pump our way past a strip of nightclubs in red patent and cheek-skimming bodycon? Or drink sparkling water out of their metallic incarnation, in the back seat of a limousine pumping Big Fat Bass?

The term confuses me, but the shoes do not.

What do you guys think? When your feet undergo an investment, do you always pick black, nude, grey or white? Hit me up.






I would also like to clarify that I don’t know how to wear Alexander Wang sunglasses on one’s feet, but I’ll let you know when I figure that out.

Miu Miu Dégradé Sequined Slippers – Jimmy Choo Malika Perforated Sandals - Jimmy Choo Anouk Patent Leather Pumps – Jimmy Choo Anouk Metallic Watersnake Pumps – Alexander Wang Sunglasses -  Saint Laurent Patent Leather Pumps