18 October 2004
(Altogether now) "Oooooooh yes you are..."
Hello. My name is Pix and I'm a shoe addict.
I had a plan.
I wanted a pair of shoes for work. The ones I've been wearing most recently, while comfortable, are boring and frankly, fairly ugly.
This could not continue.
It was payday. I had a plan.
I wanted a pair of shoes that fulfilled the following criteria:
- I can run in them.
- I can walk down the very steep hill into the train station in them (without falling flat on my face or having to turn around and go backwards, clinging on to the railings like a novice skater at an ice-rink).
- Are comfortable enough to wear all day at work, and then all evening in the pub.
- Will co-ordinate with the items in my wardrobe.
- Will look good teamed with fishnets (and ordinary black opaque tights).
- Are sexy (oh come on, of course this is a requirement - I have a reputation to protect).
- Are not too expensive (note: the most I've ever paid for footwear is £50. That includes boots. It's not so much that I'm cheap [shut up], it's that I come from a family of fierce bargain hunters).
So on Saturday afternoon, after an inordinate amount of faffing, I made it to Oxford Street, where I promptly got serious claustrophobia as a result of the crowds, and remembered why I hate shopping on Oxford Street.
More by luck than by judgement, we emerged from Oxford Circus tube station right next to Shellys shoe shop.
... and it was there that the wheels came off the wagon.
I fought my way through the crowds, elbowed my way into the shop, and there they were.
The perfect shoes.
After a side-trip through the whole shop, I finally took my courage in both hands, and made the fatal mistake.
I tried them on.
They were sexy. They fitted. They looked good with fishnets. They were comfortable. I could walk in them. I could have run in them. They weren't so high I was going to fall on my face on the hill to the station.
In short, they were perfect.
Well, almost perfect.
They were £65.
So I wobbled.
I wibbled and I faffed.
I dithered and I prevaricated.
I went through several other shoe shops, telling myself that I'd find something just as perfect, and much cheaper, just a little bit further along the street.
In short, I was a girl... and worse, a girl shopping for shoes.
... and in the end, later than planned, and after a fruitless search for the mythical Schuh shop, I went home, empty handed and horrified at the depths to which I'd sunk.
My despair was so great that not even a bottle of wine and some of those mini chocolate swiss rolls from Marks & Spencer could help...
It was a desperate situation. I had a plan. I wanted shoes, and I had none.
What was I to do?
In a flash, the answer came to me.
eBay.
eBay. Purveyor of bargain shoey goodness.
Surely they would have something to ease my suffering?
They did.
Of course they did.
Two pairs of shoes, and two pairs of boots and £50 (including postage) later, the howling despair had been transformed.
... but you know what?
I still want those shoes.
I have to have those shoes.
Somebody stop me!
I think you should get the shoes.
That would be the mythical Schuh shop right by Oxford Circus tube station then . . .
Seems like this is the right place for peergroup support - buy the shoes.
you really should get them. Or post a picture and have a poll on the matter..
when you see a good thing...you just have to snap it up. buy the shoes. love the shoes. and put the pix up on shoeproject!
Pix I can't beleive you even had to think about getting the shoes, how can someone with such an addiction even need to think twice? Go back and get them babe and turn those heads whilst you dou do so, (by that I mean the ones you knock off during the run from the station to the shop).
£65 isn't bad for sexy shoes that fit (said the woman who baulks at spending more than £20). Shall I send you a pic of my lace up boots ?
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
... contactable via email.
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