Picture the scene, Ibiza 1997; foam parties, Manumission sex shows, sunsets at Café del Mar, Renaissance at Pacha, Divine at Privilege and I was there with a suitcase full of shoes.
I had the little white strappy numbers that I wore four years later on my wedding day; we’ll talk about them some other time; some canvas pumps with thick rubber soles and the Destroy Blue wedges that were and still are ‘well fierce’. That was a fantastic holiday, me and the white strappys danced at Manumission until 7am, as I recall Sonique played that night but I could be wrong; it’s 14 years ago and I’ve been to a lot of clubs since then, life has become a blur.
There came a point that night or possibly morning when the sex show started and I stopped dancing long enough to think, “screw this, I need some sleep”. It was a bit boring and being 5’1” I saw bugger all other than Mike’s baldy head bobbing up and down like a sweaty nodding dog. It was all rather unsavoury if you ask me, but I am English you know.
Anyway we left after the sun had risen looking slightly dishevelled with the white strappy shoes more dirty grey than white; it was so bad I had to wash my feet before hitting the sack. I have many photos of that holiday, generally my husband stood in front of some landmark in the day or a sunset in the evening but I have one photo that sums me up completely. A little shop in Ibiza town caught my eye and I knew I had to commit the place to a slightly blurry photograph. I wonder if it’s still there.
