Who knew shoe shopping could be this difficult?
My shoes arrived. Arrived, and will be going right back where they came from tout de suite because as soon as I opened the box (with my heart in my mouth, natch), it was glaringly obvious that they’re just totally the wrong colour for my dress. I am gutted: partly because they were the shoes of my dreams, but mostly because it means that the whole wedding-shoe-hunt will now have to recommence, and damn, but that’s getting old now.
I honestly never thought I’d hear myself say this, but you know what? I am sick to death of looking at wedding shoes, people. I mean, I wouldn’t mind – shoes are shoes after all, and they are my most favourite things in the whole wide world, but seriously: why are wedding shoes so ugly? Most of them are flat, clumpy and ugly, and that’s SO not the look I’m going for here. Call me stupid (most people do), but I really don’t want to be waddling down the aisle in the kind of shoes the Queen wears for God’s sake, but that appears to be all that’s on offer.
I blame other brides, personally. "Oooh, I’ll be standing up all day," they say, "I have to make sure I buy comfortable shoes!" Now, I have never subscribed to this view. I’m a heels girl: I’ve been wearing heels for over fifteen years now, and I maintain that anything you can do in your trainers, I can do in my heels. I can stand up all day in stilettos. I can dance all night in stilettos. I even once climbed up the side of a mountain in stilettos, but that’s not a story I like to repeat too often, so moving along, lalala.
My requirements for my wedding shoes are simple:
- They must have high heels
- High, NARROW heels. Not wedges, or big clumpy heels. Narrow.
- They must be either pointy-toed or peep toed, but ideally peep-toed. Not square or round toed.
- They must be ivory, champagne or gold.
- They must not have an ankle strap.
- They must be pretty. Sparkly would be good too.
- I would ideally like to add here that they must be made by Christian Louboutin, but unless I wake up tomorrow and discover that everything I know about my life is wrong, and I am actually a rich woman, that’s not going to be happening.
So. HELP ME. Send shoes. Send money. Send me back my sanity. End this madness, for the love of God!